CHAPTER XIX 253
one flavour of remorse were detected ; and I do not want sacrifice , sorrow , dissolution -- such is not my taste . I wish to foster , not to blight -- to earn gratitude , not to wring tears of blood -- no , nor of brine : my harvest must be in smiles , in endearments , in sweet -- That will do . I think I rave in a kind of exquisite delirium . I should wish now to protract this moment ad infinitum ; but I dare not . So far I have governed myself thoroughly . I have acted as I inwardly swore I would act ; but further might try me beyond my strength . Rise , Miss Eyre : leave me ; the play is played out '."
Where was I ? Did I wake or sleep ? Had I been dreaming ? Did I dream still ? The old woman ' s voice had changed : her accent , her gesture , and all were familiar to me as my own face in a glass -- as the speech of my own tongue . I got up , but did not go . I looked ; I stirred the fire , and I looked again : but she drew her bonnet and her bandage closer about her face , and again beckoned me to depart . The flame illuminated her hand stretched out : roused now , and on the alert for discoveries , I at once noticed that hand . It was no more the withered limb of eld than my own ; it was a rounded supple member , with smooth fingers , symmetrically turned ; a broad ring flashed on the little finger , and stooping forward , I looked at it , and saw a gem I had seen a hundred times before . Again I looked at the face ; which was no longer turned from me -- on the contrary , the bonnet was doffed , the bandage displaced , the head advanced .
" Well , Jane , do you know me ?" asked the familiar voice . " Only take off the red cloak , sir , and then -- " " But the string is in a knot -- help me ." " Break it , sir ."
" There , then -- ' Off , ye lendings !'" And Mr . Rochester stepped out of his disguise .
" Now , sir , what a strange idea !"