Your very conscience and reason turn traitor against you. They speak almost as loudly as feeling, and clamor wildly - “think of his misery, look at his state when left alone; soothe him, save him, love him. Who in the world cares for you? Or who will be injured by what you do? You are only thinking of someone else rather than yourself. Despite your belief in the principles instilled in you since birth, you cannot let Mr. Rochester abandon himself when your love could bring him back into God’s fold.”
Your silence urges Mr. Rochester to speak again. “My deep love, my wild woe, my frantic prayer; are all nothing to you?”
How difficult it is to resist his unutterable pathos! “I will be yours, Mr. Rochester,” you say, your voice faltering at the immense decision your heart has made.
“Oh! Come, come to me entirely now!” Mr. Rochester seizes you in a tight embrace. He softly kisses your forehead and cheek, whispering your name with a kind of reverence. Tenderness, affection and longing fill your soul. You are sure you have made the right decision.
You live with Mr. Rochester now in France. Although you are his mistress, he does treat you with all the deference, devotion and duty of a wife. You feel he loves you just as dearly as the day you decided to leave everything you knew in England for the luxuries of a pleasure-villa in a southern clime.
And yet you are torn by the emotions of your relationship. One moment you are fevered with delusive bliss and in another suffocated with the bitterest tears of remorse and shame. Often you remember your free and honest life as a governess in the healthy heart of England and regret that you did not crush the insane promptings of a frenzied moment.
If only Mr. Rochester had been honest with you from the beginning, and you had kept to your principles. Then you might have lived a life that would have ensured your own self-respect.