Chapter 32: The Call of a LetterSt. John did not mention marriage again, but he became even more distant.
He threw himself completely into preparing for his missionary work.
There were fewer words between us, and a quiet heaviness filled the air.
I began to miss the warmth and ease we once had. One evening, I sat alone in my room reading.
By chance, I saw an old letter fall from one of St. John's books.
On the envelope, it said: “Miss Jane Eyre.”
I picked it up, my heart beating faster, my hands trembling. I opened the letter. It was written by Mrs. Fairfax.
She said Mr. Rochester had been in great pain since I left.
His estate had burned down, and he had lost his sight.
Now he lived in a small house in the countryside, all alone. After reading the letter, I sat in tears, unmoving for a long time.
I thought I had moved on, but my heart had never left him.
He was no longer perfect or powerful, but still the man I loved.
An irresistible pull drew me back to him. The next day, I made a decision.
I packed a small bag and got ready to leave.
St. John tried to stop me, but I gently shook my head.
“I must return. He needs me, and I need him,” I said. | 
