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And was Mr. Rochester now ugly in my eyes? No, reader. Gratitude, and many associations, all pleasurable and genial, made his face the object I best liked to see; his presence in a room was more cheering than the brightest fire. Yet I had not forgotten his faults-- indeed, I could not, for he brought them frequently before me. He was proud, sardonic, harsh to inferiority of every discription. In my secret soul I knew that his great kindness to me was balanced by unjust severity to many others. He was moody to... But I believed that his moodiness, his harshness, and his former faults of morality (I say former, for now he seemed corrected of them) had their sourse in some cruel cross of fate. I believed he was naturally a man of better tendencies, higher principals, and purer tastes than such circumstances had developed, education instilled, or destiny encouraged. I thought there were excellent materials in him; though for the present they were hung together somewhat spoiled and tangled. I cannot deny that I greive for his grief, whatever it was, and would have given much to assuage it."

I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will...

Jane Eyre