o　the　touch　or　I　cannot　live！”

He　groped；　I　arrested　his　wandering　hand；　and　prisoned　it　in　both　mine。

“Her　very　fingers！”　he　cried；　“her　small；　slight　fingers！　If　so　there　must　be　more　of　her。”

The　muscular　hand　broke　from　my　custody；　my　arm　was　seized；　my　shoulder—neck—waist—I　was　entwined　and　gathered　to　him。

“Is　it　Jane？　What　is　it？　This　is　her　shape—this　is　her　size—”

“And　this　her　voice；”　I　added。　“She　is　all　here：　her　heart；　too。　God　bless　you；　sir！　I　am　glad　to　be　so　near　you　again。”

“Jane　Eyre！—Jane　Eyre；”　was　all　he　said。

“My　dear　master；”　I　answered；　“I　am　Jane　Eyre：　I　have　found　you　out—I　am　e　back　to　you。”

“In　truth？—in　the　flesh？　My　living　Jane？”

“You　touch　me；　sir；—you　hold　me；　and　fast　enough：　I　am　not　cold　like　a　corpse；　nor　vacant　like　air；　am　I？”

“My　living　darling！　These　are　certainly　her　limbs；　and　these　her　features；　but　I　cannot　be　so　blest；　after　all　my　misery。　It　is　a　dream；　such　dreams　as　I　have　had　at　night　when　I　have　clasped　her　once　more　to　my　heart；　as　I　do　now；　and　kissed　her；　as　thus—and　felt　that　she　loved　me；　and　trusted　that　she　would　not　leave　me。”

“Which　I　never　will；　sir；　from　this　day。”

“Never　will；　says　the　vision？　But　I　always　woke　and　found　it　an　empty　mockery；　and　I　was　desolate　and　abandoned—my　life　dark；　lonely；　hopeless—my　soul　athirst　and　forbidden　to　drink—my　heart　famished　and　never　to　be　fed。　Gentle；　soft　dream；　nestling　in　my　arms　now；　you　will　fly；　too；　as　your　sisters　have　all　fled　before　you：　but　kiss　me　before　you　go—embrace　me；　Jane。”

“There；　sir—and　there！”’

I　pressed　my　lips　to　his　once　brilliant　and　now　rayless　eyes—I　swept　his　hair　from　his　brow；　and　kissed　that　too。　He　suddenly　seemed　to　arouse　himself：　the　convi