Again Mr. Rochester propounded his query: "Is the wandering and sinful，but now rest-seeking and repentant，man justified in daring the world"s opinion，in order to attach to him for ever this gentle，gracious，genial stranger，thereby securing his own peace of mind and regeneration of life?"

"Sir," I answered，"a wanderer"s repose or a sinner"s reformation should never depend on a fellow-creature. Men and women die; philosophers falter in wisdom，and Christians in goodness: if any one you know has suffered and erred，let him look higher than his equals for strength to amend and solace to heal."

"But the instrument- the instrument! God，who does the work，ordains the instrument. I have myself- I tell it you without parable- been a worldly，dissipated，restless man; and I believe I have found the instrument for my cure in-"

He paused: the birds went on carolling，the leaves lightly rustling. I almost wondered they did not check their songs and whispers to catch the suspended revelation; but they would have had to wait many minutes- so long was the silence protracted. At last I looked up at the tardy speaker: he was looking eagerly at me.

"Little friend," said he，in quite a changed tone- while his face changed too，losing all its softness and gravity，and being harsh and sarcastic- "you have noticed my tender penchant for Miss Ingram: don"t you think if I married her she would regenerate me with a vengeance?"

He got up instantly，went quite to the other end of the walk，and when he came back he was humming a tune.