In the Air
{Adapted from Jane Eyre, Chapter 37}
I leaned against the mantelpiece in the parlor. My sight having been stripped from me that fateful night, I could only faintly detect light. Most times I could tell whether it was daylight, though barely because our paltry and depressing English weather kept the sky overcast most days. My solace was in the candles lit at night.
I had long since given up on actually living a life. My former "wife" having perished at her own hand that dreadful night, and the true love of my life having left me because of her, I found no other reason to live, though I didn't believe in ending life. I never had much faith in God, but I had respect for his creation. I thought I had fallen out of His favor. How could I still be in His favor, with everything I had done in my life?
That evening I lingered in the parlor, awaiting Mary to return with the candles I requested. I grew weary of the staff. Barking at the servants seemed to be my only pleasure. Living alone with only my thoughts was killing me slowly, from the inside outward. I missed my beloved – my Jane. In my torment and restlessness of thought, I called out to God the other night. Thinking that action fruitless, as I was fully sure He had never cared for me, I called out for the one person who had – my Jane. My precious Janet.
Earlier, as I had walked around the grounds, completely frustrated with my miserable blindness but too proud to accept assistance, the atmosphere had felt strange. There was a hum of electric charge in the air. I pondered this, attributing it to the brewing storm outside. Perhaps a thunderstorm was on the horizon, charging the air with electric energy.
As I pondered these things, I heard the parlor door click shut. Pilot began to bark. I ordered the miserable animal to quiet himself and told Mary to approach with my water. As she approached, I got the strange sensation that it was not, in fact, Mary. There was a strange hum in the air like earlier. I could not define it. The electric charge - I had felt it before this evening, but at the moment, in my depression and distress, I could not name it. As I took the water from her Pilot began to bark again.
"Down, Pilot!"
I sipped the water, thoughts now pervading my brain that, perhaps, Pilot knew more than I did.
"This is you, Mary, is it not?"
The instant I heard her voice, I knew. I reached my hand out to grab her. I thought I had gone insane. Was it real? Was it her? I knew that voice all too well. I begged her to speak again. Her voice was all too real this time, and – though I did not want to believe it – there was no doubt in my soul.
I will admit that in my frantic state, I groped aimlessly for her, longing to touch that precious young woman that I loved so dearly. She soon ended my distress by enveloping my paw in her lovely, capable hands. But that wasn't enough. The separation had been too great. I needed further proof. I wrestled my hand free of her grip and soon grabbed any part of her that I could pull near to me. I held her to me, as if I thought she might run away again at a moment's notice. Yes. Yes. This was my beloved Jane.
"Jane Eyre!-Jane Eyre!"
I could have uttered her name repetitively until the rapture and it would not have been enough to convey how ecstatic I was to have her in the room with me at that moment, to hold her next to me and know that she was in fact real. I prayed she would never leave my side again. She assured me that she would never relinquish her place at my side – never again. And that, dear readers, was all I even needed to know.