of all this, let it pass away from your mind.
Forgive me for my passionate language: I was a child then; eight, nine years have passed since that day.'
She heeded nothing of what I said; but when she had tasted the water and drawn breath, she went on thus-
'I tell you I could not forget it; and I took my revenge: for you to be adopted by your uncle, and placed in a state of ease and comfort, was what I could not endure. I wrote to him; I said I was sorry for his disappointment, but Jane Eyre was dead: she had died of typhus fever at Lowood. Now act as you please: write and contradict my assertion- expose my falsehood as soon as you like. You were born, I think, to be my torment: my last hour is racked by the recollection of a deed which, but for you, I should never have been tempted to commit.'
'If you could but be persuaded to think no more of it, aunt, and to regard me with kindness and forgiveness-'
'You have a very bad disposition,' said she, 'and one to this day I feel it impossible to understand: how for nine years you could be patient and quiescent under any treatment, and in the tenth break out all fire and violence, I can never comprehend.'
'My disposition is not so bad as you think: I am passionate, but not vindictive. Many a time, as a little child, I should have been glad to love you if you would have let me; and I long earnestly to be reconciled to you now: kiss me, aunt.'
I approached my cheek to her lips: she would not touch it. She said I oppressed her by leaning over the bed, and again demanded water.
As I laid her down- for I raised her and supported her on my arm while she drank- I covered her ice-cold and clammy hand with mine: the feeble fingers shrank from my touch- the glazing eyes shunned my gaze. 'Love me, then, or hate me, as you will,' I said at last, 'you have my full and free forgiveness: ask now for God's, and be at peace.'
poor, suffering woman! it was too late for her to make now the effort to change her habitual frame of mind: living
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