probably rare, and neither party is apt to boast of it. He also, being
accepted, behaved in the manner to which the highest authorities have
lent their sanction, or, at least, he meant to do so, when the lady "fled
like a roe to her chamber." For all widows are not like widow Malone
(ochone!) renowned in song. When Arbaces, the magician, proposed to
Ione, he did so in the most necromantic and hierophantic manner in which
it could be done; his "properties" including a statue of Isis, an altar,
"and a quick, blue, darting, irregular flame." But his flame, quick,
blue, darting, and irregular as it was, lighted no answering blaze in the
ice-cold breast of the lovely lone. When rejected (in spite of a
splendid arrangement of magic lanterns, then a novelty, got up regardless
of expense) Arbaces swore like an intoxicated mariner, rather than a
necromaunt accustomed to move in the highest circles and pentacles.
Nancy, Miss Broughton's heroine, tells her middle-aged wooer, among other
things, that she accepts him, because "I did think it would be nice for
the boys; but I like you myself, besides." After this ardent confession,
he "kissed her with a sort of diffidence." Many men would have preferred
to go out and kick "the boys."

Mr. Rochester's proposal to Jane Eyre should be read in the works both of
Bret Harte and of Miss Bronte. We own that we prefer Bret Harte's Mr.
Rawjester, who wearily ran the poker through his hair, and wiped his
boots on the dress of his beloved. Even in the original authority, Mr.
Rochester conducted himself rather like a wild beast. He "ground his
teeth," "he seemed to devour" Miss Eyre "with his flaming glance." Miss
Eyre behaved with sense. "I retired to the door." Proposals of this
desperate and homicidal character are probably rare in real life, or, at
least, out of lunatic asylums. To be sure, Mr. Rochester's house _was_ a
kind of lunatic asylum.