Jane: Mr. Rochester, if ever I did a good deed in my life-if ever I thought a good thought-if ever I prayed a sincere and blameless prayer-if ever I wished a righteous wish-I am rewarded now. To be your wife is, for me, to be as happy as I can be on earth.
Mr. Rochester: Because you delight in sacrifice.
Jane: Sacrifice! What do I sacrifice? Famine for food, expectation for content. To be privileged to put my arms round what I value-to press my lips to what I love-to repose on what I trust: is that to make a sacrifice? If so, then certainly I delight in sacrifice.

And your will shall decide your destiny," he said: "I offer you my hand, my heart, and a share of all my possessions."

You play a farce, which I merely laugh at."

I ask you to pass through life at my side--to be my second self, and best earthly companion."

For that fate you have already made your choice, and must abide by it."

Jane, be still a few moments: you are over-excited: I will be still too."

A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away--away--to an indefinite distance--it died. The nightingale's song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept. Mr. Rochester sat quiet, looking at me gently and seriously. Some time passed before he spoke; he at last said -

Come to my side, Jane, and let us explain and understand one another."

I will never again come to your side: I am torn away now, and cannot return."

But, Jane, I summon you as my wife: it is you only I intend to marry."

I was silent: I thought he mocked me.

Come, Jane--come hither."

Your bride stands between us."

He rose, and with a stride reached me.

My bride is here," he said, again drawing me to him, "because my equal is here, and my likeness. Jane, will you marry me?

I ask you to pass through life at my side—to be my second self, and best earthly companion.

Monsieur, if a wife's nature loathes that of the man she is wedded to, marriage must be slavery. Against slavery all right thinkers revolt, and though torture be the price of resistance, torture must be dared: though the only road to freedom lie through the gates of death, those gates must be passed; for freedom is indispensable. Then, monsieur, I would resist as far as my strength permitted; when that strength failed I should be sure of a refuge. Death would certainly screen me both from bad laws and their consequences.

I know what it is to live entirely for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself supremely blest -- blest beyond what language can express; because I am my husband's life as fully as he is mine.

The trouble is not that I am single and likely to stay single, but that I am lonely and likely to stay lonely.