Finished.

We got married this morning. Just a quiet ceremony. Which is what I wanted. Mary and John, who are still living with us, were thrilled to hear it. I wrote my cousins about the wonderful news. Mary and Diana sent back glowing congratulations, while St. John said nothing. Poor man. Now he must go to India on his own.

This blog is now retired. I no longer need the outlet. 

Good news and bad news.

Bad news first: Thornfield is no more. Bertha Mason burnt it down. She died in the fire, and Edward almost did too, trying to save her. A beam fell on him as he was getting all the servants out.

Good news: Edward is still with us. Blind and missing a hand, but with us all the same. And I would not care if he had lost both hands, I am so glad to see him alive. It is so good to be with him again. I am going to stay with him for as long as he will let me.

Not getting married! Except this time, I'm excited!

Brief update, I’m traveling again. Almost said yes to St. John, but then I knew I needed to get back to Thornfield. So I’m on my way back right now.

Worried and excited as to what I’ll find. I’ll write again soon!

India?

I face yet another conundrum. My cousin, St. John, who so graciously took me in, has proposed marriage. And wants me to come with him to India as a missionary.

Here’s the thing, I’m all for the mission to India. I could do it, easily. I mean, I lived with my aunt for how many years? And it didn't kill me? I could totally rock India. 

But I don’t love him. Well, I love him as a brother, of course. But not anything more. And it would probably kill me if he forced me into this loveless marriage. So I told him I would go as his sister, which is what I essentially am.

But would he have it? Of course not. It’s St. John. The man is, as his sister so aptly put, “inexorable as death.”

He gave me tonight to reconsider. Tomorrow, this battle of wills continues.

Another update: I am rich! I have (well, had) a rich uncle who remembered me in his will. Who would have thought, me, rich. Whatever shall I do?

Oh, and another shock. The lovely people who took me in? They are my cousins! I am not alone in the world! I have family, people tied to me by blood, who love me almost as much as I love them. I had never thought I could be happy again!

Brief update: I’m not dead. I’m teaching again, in a small, charity school.

The people who took me in are wonderful. I would say I don't think of him. But that would be a lie. 

Mr. Rochester is married. He’s been married for years. Her name is Bertha Mason, and she lives in the attic, attended by Grace Poole, because she is completely mad. She was the one who set his bed on fire, almost killed Mr Mason (who is actually her brother, and the one who burst into our ceremony and announced all this), and tore up my wedding veil.

I’m leaving. Can’t say where. But I’m leaving. I can’t and won’t live like this. This is most likely the end of this blog. Thank you all for reading. My apologies for its unsatisfactory ending.