At evening prayers, St. John read from the twenty-first chapter of Revelation, his solemn delivery turning toward Jane as he described the fate reserved for the fearful and unbelieving. During a moment of private prayer afterward, when Jane was on the very verge of yielding to his missionary call, she heard a supernatural cry pierce the silence: “Jane! Jane! Jane!” It was the voice of Edward Rochester, speaking in anguish and woe. Jane broke from St. John’s grasp, declaring she must be alone, and prayed for guidance in her own fashion. By dawn, she had resolved to seek Rochester.
Jane departed Moor House with a brief explanation to Diana and Mary, taking the coach from Whitcross toward Thornfield. The journey took thirty-six hours. When she arrived, she discovered Thornfield Hall reduced to a blackened ruin, a shell-like wall perforated with paneless windows. The landlord of the Rochester Arms revealed the devastating history: Bertha Mason, Rochester’s wife, had set fire to the house, perished on the pavement when she leaped from the roof, and Rochester had been left blind and maimed, losing one hand and both eyes in his desperate rescue attempts. He now lived at Ferndean Manor, thirty miles distant, a broken man who shut himself up like a hermit.
Jane secured a chaise and travelled through rain to Ferndean, a desolate manor-house buried deep in a wood. She arrived at dusk, dismissing her conveyance at the gate. In the twilight, she observed Rochester emerge from the house, his strong form unchanged but his countenance desperate and brooding, like a sightless Samson or caged eagle whose gold-ringed eyes cruelty had extinguished. He groped his way across the grass-plat, rain falling on his uncovered head.
Jane presented herself at the door, asking that her name not be given. When she carried the tray of water and candles into the parlour, Pilot the dog recognised her with a bound and a whine, but Rochester, blind, could not see who had entered. When she spoke, he cried out in bewildered hope, grasping for confirmation that this was no dream. Their reunion was explosive: he seized her, unable to believe she was real. Jane revealed she was now an independent woman, having inherited five thousand pounds from her uncle in Madeira.
When Rochester lapsed into gloom about his infirmities, calling himself a sightless block, Jane rallied him with cheerful mockery, combing his shaggy hair and preparing supper. Their conversation turned to the year apart. Rochester grew jealous when Jane mentioned St. John Rivers, interrogating her with pointed questions about their time together and his lessons in Hindostanee. Jane teased him to relieve his melancholy, then reassured him that her heart was entirely his own.
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