CHAPTER XXVII 381
" Then you are mistaken, and you know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable. Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still: if you raved, my arms should confine you, and not a strait waistcoat-- your grasp, even in fury, would have a charm for me: if you flew at me as wildly as that woman did this morning, I should receive you in an embrace, at least as fond as it would be restrictive. I should not shrink from you with disgust as I did from her: in your quiet moments you should have no watcher and no nurse but me; and I could hang over you with untiring tenderness, though you gave me no smile in return; and never weary of gazing into your eyes, though they had no longer a ray of recognition for me.-- But why do I follow that train of ideas? I was talking of removing you from Thornfield. All, you know, is prepared for prompt departure: to-morrow you shall go. I only ask you to endure one more night under this roof, Jane; and then, farewell to its miseries and terrors for ever! I have a place to repair to, which will be a secure sanctuary from hateful reminiscences, from unwelcome intrusion-- even from falsehood and slander."
" And take Adele with you, sir," I interrupted; " she will be a companion for you."
" What do you mean, Jane? I told you I would send Adele to school; and what do I want with a child for a companion, and not my own child,-- a French dancer ' s bastard? Why do you importune me about her! I say, why do you assign Adele to me for a companion?"
" You spoke of a retirement, sir; and retirement and solitude are dull: too dull for you."
" Solitude! solitude!" he reiterated with irritation. " I see I must come to an explanation. I don ' t know what sphynx-like expression is forming in your countenance. You are to share my solitude. Do you understand?"