“Mr. Rochester, I must leave you.”

“For how long, Jane? For a few minutes, while you smooth your hair — which is somewhat dishevelled; and bathe your face — which looks feverish?”

“I must leave Ad�le and Thornfield. I must part with you for my whole life: I must begin a new existence among strange faces and strange scenes.”

“Of course: I told you you should. I pass over the madness about parting from me. You mean you must become a part of me. As to the new existence, it is all right: you shall yet be my wife: I am not married. You shall be Mrs. Rochester — both virtually and nominally.

I shall keep only to you so long as you and I live. You shall go to a place