Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë Chapter 36 Page 17

Not in my time, I thought: you are a stranger to me.

“I was the late Mr. Rochester’s butler,” he added.

The late! I seem to have received, with full force, the blow I had been trying to evade.

“The late!” I gasped. “Is he dead?”

“I mean the present gentleman, Mr. Edward’s father,” he explained. I breathed again: my blood resumed its flow. Fully assured by these words that Mr. Edward — my Mr. Rochester (God bless him, wherever he was!) — was at least alive: was, in short, “the present gentleman.” Gladdening words! It seemed I could hear all that was to come — whatever the disclosures might be — with comparative