Another of those odd moments last night, I was unable to sleep, something prompted by a recent conversation. Not entirely sure why it should keep me awake as it was about Jane Eyre, how having finally read the book after seeing so many adaptations I still had the same problem; Rochester’s betrayal of Jane and Jane’s subsequent forgiveness of Rochester. Why?
It was always the least satisfactory part, a moment where my commitment to the story would falter. I understood that she loved him but, again, why? Only by the narrowest of margins is he prevented from being the cause of her ruin. And I suppose I had a light bulb moment, though when I write it down I feel silly because it seems obvious; she forgives him because that’s what love is. Something I vaguely remember being taught as a child, but long since forgotten.
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