Act 4 — SCENE III.—The Oratory. Octagonal recess with large stained windows, practicable, beyond which a portion of the house may be seen, consisting of turrets, to show effect of fire at the end of Act; low railing at opening of recess. Organ music. ROCHESTER discovered.
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Roch. (Impatiently.) Why comes she not? my bounding soul would fain outstrip both time and thought and reach the consummation of my hope, ’ere stern reflection, reason’s officer, should cry, beware! Why will they have me thus alone with conscience nicely scrupulous.—Away! away! I will not think; in that direction madness lies; what, ho! (Noise without.) Ah, here at last; be calm, my soul. (Again noise.) ’Tis Ingram’s voice; yes, as I live, ’tis he and his proud sister. Have I wrongfully judged her, and my touchstone proven her to be right ringing metal? if so, I’m trebly cursed. They’re here.
Enter DOWAGER, INGRAM, BLANCHE, DENT, and LADY MARY, R. H.
Suspense were more than agony, I must be resolved at once; how shall I welcome thee, lady: as my disinterested love, bride of my heart and not of my wealth? You are silent! be thanked for it, ye immortal powers. Speak, Blanche!
Dow. Hold, sir; ’tis time this insolent mockery should have a termination; can you smile, deceiver, and behold the victim of your wicked perfidy!
Roch. Perfidy! to whom, then, was your daughter betrothed, to me, or to my money-chest?
Dow. Pshaw; what romantic nonsense is this; speak to him, Ingram, I can have no patience with the poor impostor.
Lord Ing. ’Pon my life it’s a little awkward, lady mother; but as I’m the head of the house, I suppose I must.
Roch. Let me look at you, Blanche. By heaven, her features are as calm as marble. What are promises and protestations, gentle looks and whispered sentences—all hollowness, pretence, and lies.
Lord Ing. Come, come, Rochester, this is a most unimaginative age; that sort of talk reads tolerably well in novels, but sounds somewhat impertinent in real life. Your paper heroes are privileged individuals, but flesh and blood people don’t feel inclined to listen to such improbable mouthing.
Roch. Miserable idiot!
Lord Ing. (To Dent.) Did you hear that?
Dent. Distinctly.
Lord Ing. What ought I to do?
Dent. Nothing?
Roch. I have no time to waste—be explicit. Do you wish this match to be broken off!
Lord Ing. Most undoubtedly. Do you suppose that I would suffer my sister to be sacrificed to a man——
Roch. Whose heart outweighs his wealth. I thought so, and am not disappointed; still I must have confirmation from the Lady Blanche herself. Speak, lady; would you have me release you from your promise?
Blan. Mr. Rochester, I——
Dow. She would——
Roch. Hush! let her speak, I’ll hear none other.
Blan. I like you very much——
Dow. As a friend.
Roch. Silence! Proceed, Lady Blanche.
Blan. My mother answers for me, sir.
Dow. Affectionate creature!
Roch. Am I released?
(Motions Dowager to silence—a pause—he watches Blanche, as she quietly exclaims.)
Blan. Yes!
(Rochester walks about quietly triumphant.)
Dow. Unconditionally; but we shall always be most happy to receive your visits in a friendly way, Mr. Rochester. Shall we not, Ingram?
Lord Ing. To be sure, and I shall visit him in the shooting season. (Aside.) Don’t be disconsolate, there’s a good fellow, we’re all devilish sorry, you know. Keep up your spirits.
Roch. I mean to do so. My kind considerate friends, now listen to me all of ye. Had there been one touch of heart—one spark of noble feeling in that woman’s nature—I should deeply regret the stratagem which I have used. (All start.)
Lord Ing. Stratagem! I’m afraid we’re sold!
Roch. But as it is, her unworthiness has, like a dull foil, made lighter still the starlike radiance of her for whose beloved sake, I fling aside the gauds of title and of name. Come forth, sole mistress of this heart and home.
(Leads forward JANE EYRE—all start.)
Dow. } The governess!
Blan. }
Lord Ing. Lady mother, you are checkmated.
(All the servants cluster round—the chaplain enters the enclosure.)
Dow. Marry the governess! revolting!
Roch. Yes, the governess! one pure instant of whose companionship were worth a whole eternity with such as ye. Come, be witnesses of the fulfilment of my soul’s uttermost desire. Look up, sweet love—look up—a few moments nerve. (Leads her towards enclosure—large bell, hastily rung—noise without.) What interruption’s this?
Grace. (Heard outside.) “She has escaped!”
Roch. Horror! what do I hear; must my cup of joy be dashed from me, even in the moment of my greatest bliss? never. Proceed with the ceremony.
(Noise increases—bell louder.)
Enter JOHN.
John. “The house is in flames.”
(Confusion—the oratory window is thrust open with terrible crash, and the maniac wife appears in the opening, a torch in her hand.)
Roch. My wife!
Jane. His wife!
(Faints—portion of the house beyond seen in flames.)
END OF ACT IV.