"Because you are sorry to leave it?"

The vehemence of emotion was claiming mastery, and struggling for full
sway--to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last; yes--and to speak.

"I grieve to leave Thornfield. I love Thornfield, because I have lived
in it a full and delightful life. I have not been trampled on; I have
not been petrified. I have talked face to face with what I delight
in--an original, a vigorous and expanded mind. I have known you, Mr.
Rochester. I see the necessity of departure, but it is like looking on
the necessity of death."

"Where do you see the necessity?" he asked suddenly.

"Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you?" I retorted, roused
to something like passion. "Do you think, because I am poor, obscure,
plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! I have
as much soul as you--and full as much heart! I am not talking to you now
through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even mortal flesh.
It is my spirit that addresses your spirit, just as if both had passed
through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal--as we are!"

"As we are!" repeated Mr. Rochester, gathering me to his heart and
pressing his lips on my lips. "So, Jane!"

"Yes, so, sir!" I replied. "I have spoken my mind, and can go anywhere
now. Let me go!"

"Jane, be still; don't struggle so, like a wild, frantic bird, rending
its own plumage in its desperation."