Chapter 27 Part 1

Sometime in the afternoon I raised my head, and looking round, and seeing the Western

sun gliding the sign of its decline on the wall, I asked, what am I to do?

But the answer my mind gave, leaf-thornfield at once, was so prompt, so dread that I stopped

my ears.

I said I could not bear such words now.

But I am not Edward Rodchester's bride, is the least part of my woe, I latched, that

I have wakened out of my most glorious dreams, and found them all void and vain, is a horror

I could bear and master.

But that I must leave him decidedly, instantly, entirely, is intolerable.

I cannot do it.

But then, a voice within me a bird that I could do it, and foretold that I should do it.

I wrestled in my own resolution.

I wanted to be weak that I might avoid the awful passage of further suffering I saw

laid out for me, and conscience, turned tyrant, held passion by the throat, told her tauntingly

she had yet but dipped her dainty foot in the slough, and swore that with that arm of

iron he would thrust her down to unsound a depths of agony.

Let me be torn away, then I cried, let another help me.

No, you shall tear yourself away, none shall help you.

You shall yourself pluck out your right eye, yourself cut off your right hand, your heart

shall be the victim, and you the priest to transfix it.

I rose up suddenly, terror struck at the solitude which so ruthless a judge haunted, at the

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