feriorityofeverydescription:isoulIkhathisgreatkiomewasbalancedbyunjustseveritytomanyothers.Hewasmoody,too;unatablyso;Imorethanonce,whefortoreadtohim,foundhimsittinginhislibraryalohhisheadbentonhisfoldedarms;and,whenhelookedup,amorose,almostamalignant,scowlblaedhisfeatures.ButIbelievedthathismoodiness,hisharshness,andhisformerfaultsofmorality(Isayformer,fornowheseemedcorrectedofthem)hadtheirsoursomecruelcrossoffate.Ibelievedhewasnaturallyamaertendencies,higherprinciples,andpurertastesthansuchascircumstanceshaddeveloped,educationinstilled,ordestinyenced.Ithoughttherewereexcellentmaterialsinhim;thoughforthepresenttheyhungtogethersomeoiledandtangled.IotdenythatIgrievedfrief,whateverthatwas,andwouldhavegivenmuchtoassuageit.

    ThoughIhadinguishedmydleandwaslaiddowninbed,Icouldnotsleepforthinkingofhislookwhenhepausedintheavenue,andtoldhowhisdestinyhadrisenupbeforehim,anddaredhimtobehappyatThornfield.

    “Whynot?”Iaskedmyself.“Whatalienateshimfromthehouse?Willheleaveitagainsoon?Mrs.Fairfaxsaidheseldomstayedherelohanafhtatatime;andhehasnowbeenresideweeks.Ifhedoesgo,thegewillbedoleful.Supposeheshouldbeabsentspring,summer,andautumn:howjoylesssunshineandfinedayswillseem!”

    IhardlyknowwhetherIhadsleptornotafterthismusing;atanyrate,Istartedwideawakeonhearingavaguemurmur,peculiarandlugubrious,whichsouhought,justaboveme.IwishedIhadkeptmydleburning:thenightwasdrearilydark;myspiritsweredepressed.Iroseandsatupinbed,listening.Thesoundwashushed.

    Itriedagaintosleep;butmyheart