"How long?" he said with some impatience.

"Not long." Jane answered, speaking from behind the great belly that loomed before her, towered above her, lying on the bed fully clothed and outside the covers. In the last months, the ones approaching the great event, it had become exceedingly difficult to function at her full capacity the whole day long, and at least one nap was necessary every afternoon to compensate for this extraordinary lack of energy. She was warm despite the delicate chill of early spring. "You remember what he said, just a matter of days."

Edward paced the room; his restlessness over the last few weeks had increased ten-fold and appeared to be nearing its pinnacle. Jane would be having the child in a matter of days - his child, their child. She was lovely, tired and absolutely serene, the possibility of death, of stillbirth, of pain completely absent from her face. He knew death did not frighten her. Her faith in God was indelible, and when her time had come, he knew she would willingly and without quarrel submit to His mercy. It was one of the things he admired most about her: her untiring love of God and hope for the best. But Edward also knew that the possibility of their child never seeing life secretly terrified her. How could it not? It would devastate them both if the thing they both wanted most - the creation of this new life that fused the two of them in one, a child - was ripped away from them the moment it was given, at the height of long-developed anticipation. Edward did not possess the same, untiring faith as she, and prayed to God that He would remember the trials they had ultimately faced and revered with humility and would give them this child without too much trouble or worry.

His brow furrowed in concentration and, perhaps, anxiety. Jane watched her husband, amused, as he spanned the length of the room over and over again, and she smiled. "Very soon your child will be born, sir, and you will be able to see them for yourself." Jane beckoned him over to her side a minute and held his wrist. "Your pulse is rapid, Edward - calm yourself." She nearly laughed but tried to retain an air that was reposeful and soothing, restoring tranquility by example.

Edward found he could hardly contain himself - it was exciting. Waiting to see those tiny, little features was virtually unendurable considering a short time ago he did not think he would ever see the faces of his children. Now he was merely days away from the realization of this one time impossibility. He wondered who it would look like, he or Jane? But he couldn't think of that now.

"Don't you fear the pain, Jane? I hate to imagine you suffering in that way. Aren't you afraid of the…possibilities?" He nearly shuddered. He watched her and squinted, looking for some change of expression, some indication that she did fear it. He would almost regret putting her in this position if he did not want the child so badly himself. Her face, though, remained placid and at ease. She rolled onto her side to face him and curled into a nearly fetal position.

Edward paused for a moment in his anxious pacing. Soft, silver light came through the window and revealed little, dispersed flakes of snow spiraling to the ground outside. Jane answered, "No, I trust in God." She smiled at him again, a demure little stretch of the mouth. Jane could see the evident anxiety in his eye; never before had he expressed so much concern. "I thought you did too. God will do what is right." Nearly every moment during her pregnancy he had been at her side, always with her, tenderly and gently making love to her, sweetly, fastidiously attending to her needs. This softness and this strange sentimental level of compassion was quite uncharacteristic of the once harsh and hostile man, but it was always very genuine and very heartfelt and never unwelcome. "Yes, it will be painful, but it is a pain I'm willing to endure. Think of the reward, Edward. Did what the doctor have to say frighten you?" She laughed heedlessly, but she knew his answer would be grave.

"Yes, Jane." He heard the strained tension in his own voice. Only an hour or two before, the doctor had come for a routine visit and had explained to them as delicately, but as accurately and as realistically as possible, all that the birthing process entailed. "I had not quite anticipated the time and the messiness that would go along with it all." Edward stopped; his feelings were poignant. He sat down on the bed next to her and placed his hand on her belly. The skin was taut, smooth underneath her clothes. He could feel the vague movements within. He smiled, "I worry too much about you – you are too good for death. Nothing can ruin you. I should follow your example, Janet, and have some faith."

"Yes, you should."

She was so strong; she was so certain. Always pure and pious Jane never faltered, never feared the unknown. "The child of Jane Eyre will be the embodiment of virtue, passion and no doubt a relentless intellect."

"I could say the same for you. You have your own goodness, Edward. I would not have married you if you didn't," she smiled, "The child of Edward Rochester will be equally as passionate and headstrong and intelligent. Your child will have a great many talents; perhaps they will inherit your voice. No doubt, they will be an exceptional performer."

Edward laughed, "My goodness only exists for you, and your child will possess just as many talents."

"Perhaps. I only hope that they find as much happiness as we have found. We have been very fortunate in that respect."

"Yes, though, I only hope, Janet, that they will not have to suffer so much before hand." Silence fell for a moment as they acknowledged mutual sympathies. They contemplated the hand they had each been dealt in life, how far they had come since their first meeting. They each thought of their new life, finally rhythmic, happily routine, and relaxed in transient satisfaction. They lived solely for each other and were content with that. Edward kissed her hand, and, in deference to the bleary, gently pale circles under her eyes, rose and strode towards the door. Before walking out, he stopped to take his leave, "Excuse me, Jane; I'll leave you to rest."

"Do not worry yourself so much, Edward. All will be well in the end."

Edward left her and walked downstairs to the parlor. He sat in the familiar chair by the hearth and waited for God to deal his next hand. Still worrying, he took out a cigar and lit it. What else was there to do besides wait?