bour—youhadbettergonofarther,”urgedthemonitor.“Askinformationofthepeopleattheinn;theygiveyouallyouseek:theysolveyourdoubtsatonce.Gouptothatman,andinquireifMr.Rochesterbeathome.”

    Thesuggestionwassensible,aIcouldnotforcemyselftoait.Isodreadedareplythatwouldcrushmewithdespair.Toprolongdoubtrolonghope.ImightyetoncemoreseetheHalluherayofherstar.Therewasthestilebeforeme—theveryfieldsthroughwhichIhadhurried,blind,deaf,distractedwitharevengefulfurytragandscme,onthemIfledfromThornfield:ereIwellknewwhatcourseIhadresolvedtotake,Iwasinthemidstofthem.HowfastIwalked!HowIraimes!HowIlookedforwardtocatchthefirstviewofthewell-knownwoods!WithwhatfeelingsIweledsireesIknew,andfamiliarglimpsesofmeadowandhillbetweenthem!

    Atlastthewoodsrose;therookeryclustereddark;aloudgbrokethemstillness.Strangedelightinspiredme:onIhastened.Anotherfieldcrossed—alahreaded—andtherewerethecourtyardwalls—thebackoffices:thehouseitself,therookerystillhid.“Myfirstviewofitshallbeinfront,”Idetermined,“whereitsboldbattlementswillstriketheeyenoblyatondwhereIsimymaster’sverywindow:perhapshewillbestandingatit—herisesearly:perhapsheisnowwalkingintheorchard,oronthepavementinfront.CouldIbutseehim!—butamoment!Surely,inthatcase,Ishouldnotbesomadastoruntohim?Iottell—Iamain.AndifIdid—whatthen?Godblesshim!Whatthen?Whowouldbehurtbymyoncemoretastingthelifehisglangiveme?Irave:perhapsatthismomentheiswatgthesunriseoverthePyrenees,oroidelessseaofthesouth.”

    Ihadcoastedalongthelowerwalloftheorchard—tursaherewasagatejustthe