DOC《CHAPTER XXV   》

CHAPTER XXV??? THE month of courtship had wasted: its very last hours were being numbered.

There was no putting off the day that advanced- the bridal day;

and all preparations for its arrival were complete. I, at least, had nothing more to do: there were my trunks, packed, locked, corded, ranged in a row along the wall of my little chamber;

to-morrow, at this time, they would be far on their road to London: and so should I (D.V.),- or rather, not I, but one Jane Rochester, a person whom as yet I knew not. The cards of address alone remained to nail on: they lay, four little squares, in the drawer. Mr. Rochester had himself written the direction, '

Mrs. Rochester,- Hotel, London,'

on each: I could not persuade myself to affix them, or to have them affixed. Mrs. Rochester! She did not exist: she would not be born till to-morrow, some time after eight o'

clock A.M.;

and I would wait to be assured she had come into the world alive before I assigned to her all that property. It was enough that in yonder closet, opposite my dressing-table, garments said to be hers had already displaced my black stuff Lowood frock and straw bonnet: for not to me appertained that suit of wedding raiment;

the pearl-coloured robe, the vapoury veil pendent from the usurped portmanteau. I shut the closet to conceal the strange, wraith-like apparel it contained;

which, at this evening hour- nine o'

clock- gave out certainly a most ghostly shimmer through the shadow of my apartment. '

I will leave you by yourself, white dream,'

I said. '

I am feverish: I hear the wind blowing: I will go out of doors and feel it.'

It was not only the hurry of preparation that made me feverish;

not only the anticipation of the great change- the new life which was to commence to-morrow: both these circumstances had their share, doubtless, in producing that restless, excited mood which hurried me forth at this late hour into the darkening grounds: but a third cause influenced my mind more than they. I had at heart a strange and anxious thought. Something had happened which I could not comprehend;

no one knew of or had seen the event but myself: it had taken place the preceding night. Mr. Rochester that night was absent from home;

nor was he yet returned: business had called him to a small estate of two or three farms he possessed thirty miles off- business it was requisite he should settle in person, previous to his meditated departure from England. I waited now his return;

eager to disburthen my mind, and to seek of him the solution of the enigma that perplexed me. Stay till he comes, reader: and, when I disclose my secret to him, you shall share the confidence. I sought the orchard, driven to its shelter by the wind, which all day had blown strong and full from the south, without, however, bringing a speck of rain. Instead of subsiding as night drew on, it seemed to augment its rush and deepen its roar: the trees blew steadfastly one way, never writhing round, and scarcely tossing back their boughs once in an hour;

so continuous was the strain bending their branchy heads northward- the clouds drifted from pole to pole, fast following, mass on mass: no glimpse of blue sky had been visible that July day. It was not without a certain wild pleasure I ran before the wind, delivering my trouble of mind to the measureless air-torrent thundering through space. Descending the laurel walk, I faced the wreck of the chestnut-tree;

it stood up black and riven: the trunk, split down the centre, gaped ghastly. The cloven halves were not broken from each other, for the firm base and strong roots kept them unsundered below;