The clergyman looked up at the speaker and stood mute; the clerk did the same; Mr. Rochester moved slightly，as if an earthquake had rolled under his feet: taking a firmer footing，and not turning his head or eyes，he said，"proceed."

profound silence fell when he had uttered that word，with deep but low intonation. presently Mr. Wood said-

"I cannot proceed without some investigation into what has been asserted，and evidence of its truth or falsehood."

"The ceremony is quite broken off," subjoined the voice behind us. "I am in a condition to prove my allegation: an insuperable impediment to this marriage exists."

Mr. Rochester heard，but heeded not: he stood stubborn and rigid，making no movement but to possess himself of my hand. What a hot and strong grasp he had! and how like quarried marble was his pale，firm，massive front at this moment! How his eye shone，still watchful，and yet wild beneath!

Mr. Wood seemed at a loss. "What is the nature of the impediment?" he asked. "perhaps it may be got over- explained away?"

"Hardly," was the answer. "I have called it insuperable，and I speak advisedly."

The speaker came forward and leaned on the rails. He continued，uttering each word distinctly，calmly，steadily，but not loudly-

"It simply consists in the existence of a previous marriage. Mr. Rochester has a wife now living."

My nerves vibrated to those low-spoken words as they had never vibrated to thunder- my blood felt their subtle violence as it had never felt frost or fire; but I was collected，and in no danger of swooning. I looked at Mr. Rochester: I made him look at me. His whole face was colourless rock: his eye was both spark and flint. He disavowed nothing: he seemed as if he would defy all things. Without speaking，without smiling，without seeming to recognise in me a human being，he only twined my waist with his arm and riveted me to his side.

"Who are you?" he asked of the intruder.