"I thank my Maker, that in the midst of judgment he has remembered mercy. I humbly entreat my Redeemer to give me strength to lead henceforth a purer life than I have done hitherto!" Then he stretched out his hand to be led. I took that dear hand, held it a moment to my lips, then let it pass around my shoulder: being so much lower of stature than he, I served both for his prop and guide. We entered the wood, and wended homeward.

It was surely not long now and my agony would soon end. The nurses and midwives were dashing back and forth with no real sense of proportion. Rochester was holding my hand, gripping it tightly. He served both for my prop and guide for this very moment in time. I had a pale, baby blue, maternal dress on and the midwives were fussing over me, trying to take it off. They had firmly insisted I take my dress off, although I deeply wanted to keep it on to spare any sense of embarrassment it could convey. But seemed no point to preach to the converted about matters like this, as they seemed to know what they were doing, even though they seemed quite flustered.

An excruciating pain shot straight through my body and I closed my eyes as it lanced straight through me. My Edward tightened his grip on me, as the rain sheeted down outside, thundering and screaming heavily against the thickly panelled windows made of the most fragile of glass.

"Not long now, Ma'am." said she, who was standing beside my bed with a various array of surgical equipment, all confusing and foreign to me. Science was something that clashed deeply with me and my morals, as I was a devoted Christian, but on this occasion, it could make or break me.

"Hold on now my darling Jane." whispered the voice of my dear Rochester. It was his voice that willed me on in this troubled time. He called me the apple of his eye, for I was the one through whom he saw the entire world. Never did I ever weary of gazing at breathtaking landscapes for him, describing the pure beauty of nature, every time we were outside in the scintillating glow of the sun. He cannot see very much now, but he can see the Earth for what it is; a place built for us.

"Adéle would be most overjoyed to see you back, Miss Eyre." says the calm voice of Mrs Alice Fairfax, standing near the bed, her face aged and etched with the deepest concern and sympathy.

"Thank you greatly, Ma'am." I say. I had wanted to become Adéle's mistress again, for as an inexperienced eloquent as the poor girl is, she is a truly charming and affectionate little thing and I feel that I would be doing my Redeemer's work, if I were to help her further. Sadly, I can no longer be her mistress due to my new baby, but we have agreed to become close acquaintances; or on her terms, best friends. Or to be linguistically more specific, "meilleurs amis…. "

Suddenly, my body convulsed, my whole being, physical and spiritual, shuddering uncontrollably. I let out a high pitched scream, one of complete joy combined with hours of intensive labour. Never have I ever been so exhausted or haggard-looking in my entire life. I managed to catch a glimpse of my unsightly being in the mirror, dishevelled hair and a pale, pale complexion. Nothing like the creation of God at all; much like Bertha Antoinette Mason when I saw her first, locked away in that dreary place she called home.

The nurses and midwives were partially hidden behind a translucent screen and were whispering in hushed, excited voices. Rochester suddenly let go of my hand, for what seemed to be an eternity. A few moments later, when the calm had settled over my impending storm, a pure cry of adulation emits from the depths of Rochester's lovely chest.

He walks out steadily from behind the screen, holding a bundle of blankets with the most extreme gentleness.

"Behold, my love." he whispers, tears magnificently gleaming in his black, shiny eyes, "Our son."

The mass of glorious flesh, stained with evidence from the intensive hours of labour, hiding behind a shock of striking black hair, was my son. My darling, beautiful boy bequeathed to me from God. The room seemed to light up, the iridescent glow of the lamps beaming gently on the bedside table.

He certainly has his father's eyes.