Chapter XXVII

           SometimeintheafternoonIraisedmyhead,andlookingroundandseeingthewesternsungildingthesignofitsdeclineonthewall,Iasked, "WhatamItodo?" 

           Buttheanswermymindgave"LeaveThornfieldatonce"wassoprompt,sodread,thatIstoppedmyears. IsaidIcouldnotbearsuchwordsnow. "ThatIamnotEdwardRochester’sbrideistheleastpartofmywoe,"Ialleged:"thatIhavewakenedoutofmostgloriousdreams,andfoundthemallvoidandvain,isahorrorIcouldbearandmaster; butthatImustleavehimdecidedly,instantly,entirely,isintolerable.Icannotdoit." 

           But,then,avoicewithinmeaverredthatIcoulddoitandforetoldthatIshoulddoit. Iwrestledwithmyownresolution:IwantedtobeweakthatImightavoidtheawfulpassageoffurthersufferingIsawlaidoutforme;andConscience,turnedtyrant,heldPassionbythethroat,toldhertauntingly,shehadyetbutdippedherdaintyfootintheslough,andsworethatwiththatarmofironhewouldthrustherdowntounsoundeddepthsofagony. 

           "Letmebetornaway,"thenIcried."Letanotherhelpme!" 

           "No;youshalltearyourselfaway,noneshallhelpyou:youshallyourselfpluckoutyourrighteye;yourselfcutoffyourrighthand: yourheartshallbethevictim,andyouthepriesttotransfixit." 

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