Dear Jane Eyre,
Everyday I am driven to madness. I awake, joy swelling in my heart as I think that I might catch a glimpse at your face, your priceless expression. But, once I reach the bottom of the steps, I realize that you are not in the library with Adele, nor are you eating with Mrs. Fairfax. I race to your room, hoping you might still be in slumber. But, alas, your bed is made and you little self is vanished. At this point, I break down in tears and refuse to see anyone.
Yes, my little Janet, I am driven to madness.
Oh, how I wish you had never left. How I wish, once again, to wrap my arms around you. How I wish to hear your voice, to see your striking eyes, to see my pretty beloved sitting with her head on my knee.
It's all because of the mad-woman. Blast her and everything that ever connected me to her! All I want it you, dear Jane, and you had to leave. I am left alone in the home of the monster who brought about this whole tragedy. Oh, I need you, Jane! I am on the edge of becoming as mad as the woman I married, mad from not being with you. My heart is torn to shreds, and never again shall ti recover.
These two months have inched by at the rate of two years, each morning forcing me to re-live the horror I encountered upon your departure. I wish you had never discovered Bertha Antoinette Mason's existence. But, if you had, I know you'd still leave like a phantom in the night, leaving behind and heirloom I ever gave you.
Still I wonder if you loved me as I loved you. If you had felt the same, you mightn't have left. But, I will not torture myself with thoughts like that. I will not measure your affection.
I feel I must end my search for you, however much it pains me to pen the words. I fear I will never find you, and searching endlessly would never do. Oh, if only the world were smaller, and Thornfield Hall were the only place you could go! We'd forget the bringer of our woe and think only of each other. Oh, how you've bewitched me!
I cannot go on like this; as stated beforehand, I am a wreck. I pray to God that he will end my life, or give me some hope of seeing you, you lovely, unearthly creature. I miss the time when we were together, when we-
I cannot think on this now. I know you will never see this letter, I see no use in finishing it and further hurting myself. I love you, I love you, I love you, Jane Eyre.
With everything in me,
Edward Fairfax Rochester