MR. ROCHESTER did, on a future occasion, explain it. It was one afternoon, when he chanced to meet me and Adele in the grounds: and while she played with Pilot and her shuttlecock, he asked me to walk up and down a long beech¹ avenue within sight of her.

 

He then said that she was the daughter of a French opera-dancer, Celine Varens, towards whom he had once cherished what he called a 'grande passion.' This passion Celine had professed² to return with even superior ardour. He thought himself her idol³, ugly as he was: he believed, as he said, that she preferred his 'taille d'athlete' to the elegance⁴ of the Apollo Belvidere.

 

'And, Miss Eyre, so much was I flattered by this preference of the Gallic sylph for her British gnome⁵, that I installed her in an hotel; gave her a complete establishment of servants, a carriage, cashmeres, diamonds, dentelles, etc. In short, I began the process of ruining myself in the received style, like any other spoony. I had not, it seems, the originality⁶ to chalk out a new road to shame and destruction, but trode the old track with stupid exactness not to deviate⁷ an inch from the beaten centre. I had- as I deserved to have- the fate of all other spoonies. Happening to call one evening when Celine did not expect me, I found her out; but it was a warm night, and I was tired with strolling through Paris, so I sat down in her boudoir; happy to breathe the air consecrated⁸ so lately by her presence. No,- I exaggerate; I never thought there was any consecrating⁹ virtue¹⁰ about her: it was rather a sort of pastille perfume she had left; a scent¹¹ of musk¹² and amber¹³, than an odour of sanctity. I was just beginning to stifle¹⁴ with the fumes¹⁵ of conservatory¹⁶ flowers and sprinkled essences, when I bethought myself to open the window and step out on to the balcony. It was moonlight and gaslight besides, and very still and serene¹⁷. The balcony was furnished with a chair or two; I sat down, and took out a cigar,- I will take one now, if you will excuse me.'

 

Here ensued a pause, filled up by the producing and lighting¹⁸ of a cigar; having placed it to his lips and breathed a trail of Havannah incense¹⁹ on the freezing and sunless air, he went on- 'I liked bonbons²⁰ too in those days, Miss Eyre, and I was croquant- (overlook the barbarism)- croquant chocolate comfits, and smoking alternately, watching meantime the equipages that rolled along the fashionable streets towards the neighbouring opera-house, when in an elegant close carriage drawn²¹ by a beautiful pair of English horses, and distinctly seen in the brilliant city-night, I recognised the "voiture" I had given Celine. She was returning: of course my heart thumped²² with impatience²³ against the iron rails I leant upon. The carriage stopped, as I had expected, at the hotel door; my flame (that is the very word for an opera inamorata) alighted: though muffled²⁴ in a cloak- an unnecessary encumbrance²⁵, by the bye, on so warm a June evening- I knew her instantly by her little foot, seen peeping from the skirt of her dress, as she skipped from the carriage step. Bending over the balcony, I was about to murmur²⁶ "Mon ange"- in a tone, of course, which should be audible to the ear of love alone- when a figure jumped from the carriage after her; cloaked also; but that was a spurred heel which had rung on the pavement, and that was a hatted head which now passed under the arched porte cochere of the hotel.

 

'You never felt jealousy²⁷, did you, Miss Eyre? Of course not: I need not ask you; because you never felt love. You have both sentiments yet to experience: your soul sleeps; the shock is yet to be given which shall waken it. You think all existence lapses²⁸ in as quiet a flow as that in which your youth has hitherto slid away. Floating on with closed eyes and muffled ears, you neither see the rocks bristling²⁹ not far off in the bed of the flood, nor hear the breakers boil at their base. But I tell you- and you may mark my words- you will come some day to a craggy pass in the channel, where the whole of life's stream will be broken up into whirl and tumult³⁰, foam³¹ and noise: either you will be dashed to atoms on crag points, or lifted up and borne on by some master-wave into a calmer current- as I am now.

 

'I like this day; I like that sky of steel; I like the sterness and stillness of the world under this frost. I like Thornfield, its antiquity³², its retirement³³, its old crow-trees and thorn-trees, its grey facade³⁴, and lines of dark windows reflecting that metal welkin: and yet how long have I abhorred³⁵ the very thought of it, shunned³⁶ it like a great plague-house? How I do still abhor-'

 

He ground his teeth and was silent: he arrested his step and struck his boot against the hard ground. Some hated thought seemed to have him in its grip, and to hold him so tightly that he could not advance.

 

We were ascending³⁷ the avenue when he thus paused; the hall was before us. Lifting his eye to its battlements, he cast over them a glare such as I never saw before or since. Pain, shame, ire, impatience, disgust, detestation, seemed momentarily to hold a quivering conflict in the large pupil dilating³⁸ under his ebon eyebrow³⁹.#p#分页标题#e#

 

Wild was the wrestle⁴⁰ which should be paramount⁴¹; but another feeling rose and triumphed: something hard and cynical⁴²: self-willed and resolute⁴³: it settled his passion and petrified⁴⁴ his countenance⁴⁵: he went on-

 

'During the moment I was silent, Miss Eyre, I was arranging a point with my destiny. She stood there, by that beech-trunk- a hag like one of those who appeared to Macbeth on the heath of Forres. "You like Thornfield?" she said, lifting her finger; and then she wrote in the air a memento⁴⁶, which ran in lurid⁴⁷ hieroglyphics⁴⁸ all along the house-front, between the upper and lower row of windows, "Like it if you can? Like it if you dare!"

 

'"I will like it" said I; "I dare like it;" and' (he subjoined moodily) 'I will keep my word; I will break obstacles to happiness, to goodness- yes, goodness. I wish to be a better man than I have been, than I am; as Job's leviathan broke the spear, the dart⁴⁹, and the habergeon, hindrances⁵⁰ which others count as iron and brass⁵¹, I will esteem⁵² but straw and rotten wood.'

 

Adele here ran before him with her shuttlecock. 'Away!' he cried harshly; 'keep at a distance, child; or go in to Sophie!' Continuing then to pursue his walk in silence, I ventured to recall him to the point whence he had abruptly⁵³ diverged-

 

'Did you leave the balcony, sir,' I asked, 'when Mdlle. Varens entered?'

 

I almost expected a rebuff for this hardly well-timed question, but, on the contrary, waking out of his scowling⁵⁵ abstraction, he turned his eyes towards me, and the shade seemed to clear off his brow. 'Oh, I had forgotten Celine! Well, to resume. When I saw my charmer thus come in accompanied by a cavalier, I seemed to hear a hiss⁵⁶, and the green snake of jealousy, rising on undulating coils from the moonlit balcony, glided⁵⁷ within my waistcoat, and ate its way in two minutes to my heart's core. Strange!' he exclaimed, suddenly starting again from the point. 'Strange that I should choose you for the confidant of all this, young lady; passing strange that you should listen to me quietly, as if it were the most usual thing in the world for a man like me to tell stories of his opera-mistresses to a quaint⁵⁸, inexperienced girl like you! But the last singularity explains the first, as I intimated once before: you, with your gravity, considerateness, and caution were made to be the recipient⁵⁹ of secrets.

 

Besides, I know what sort of a mind I have placed in communication with my own: I know it is one not liable to take infection: it is a peculiar⁶⁰ mind: it is a unique one. Happily I do not mean to harm it: but, if I did, it would not take harm from me. The more you and I converse⁶¹, the better; for while I cannot blight⁶² you, you may refresh me.' After this digression he proceeded-

 

'I remained in the balcony. "They will come to her boudoir, no doubt," thought I: "Let me prepare an ambush⁶³." So putting my hand in through the open window, I drew the curtain over it, leaving only an opening through which I could take observations; then I closed the casement⁶⁴, all but a chink just wide enough to furnish an outlet⁶⁵ to lovers' whispered vows⁶⁶: then I stole back to my chair; and as I resumed it the pair came in. My eye was quickly at the aperture⁶⁷.

 

Celine's chambermaid entered, lit a lamp, left it on the table, and withdrew. The couple were thus revealed to me clearly: both removed their cloaks, and there was "the Varens," shining in satin and jewels,- my gifts of course,- and there was her companion in an officer's uniform; and I knew him for a young roue of a vicomte- a brainless and vicious youth whom I had sometimes met in society, and had never thought of hating because I despised him so absolutely. On recognising him, the fang⁶⁹ of the snake Jealousy was instantly broken; because at the same moment my love for Celine sank under an extinguisher. A woman who could betray me for such a rival was not worth contending for; she deserved only scorn; less, however, than I, who had been her dupe.

 

'They began to talk; their conversation eased me completely: frivolous⁷⁰, mercenary, heartless, and senseless, it was rather calculated to weary than enrage⁷¹ a listener. A card of mine lay on the table; this being perceived, brought my name under discussion.

 

Neither of them possessed⁷² energy or wit to belabour me soundly, but they insulted me as coarsely as they could in their little way: especially Celine, who even waxed rather brilliant on my personal defects- deformities she termed them. Now it had been her custom to launch out into fervent⁷³ admiration⁷⁴ of what she called my "beaute male": wherein she differed diametrically from you, who told me point-blank, at the second interview, that you did not think me handsome. The contrast struck me at the time and-'#p#分页标题#e#

 

Adele here came running up again.

 

'Monsieur, John has just been to say that your agent has called and wishes to see you.'

 

'Ah! in that case I must abridge⁷⁵. Opening the window, I walked in upon them; liberated⁷⁶ Celine from my protection; gave her notice to vacate her hotel; offered her a purse for immediate⁷⁷ exigencies⁷⁸; disregarded screams, hysterics, prayers, protestations, convulsions; made an appointment with the vicomte for a meeting at the Bois de Boulogne. Next morning I had the pleasure of encountering him; left a bullet in one of his poor etiolated arms, feeble as the wing of a chicken in the pip, and then thought I had done with the whole crew.

 

But unluckily the Varens, six months before, had given me this filette Adele, who, she affirmed, was my daughter; and perhaps she may be, though I see no proofs of such grim paternity written in her countenance: Pilot is more like me than she. Some years after I had broken with the mother, she abandoned her child, and ran away to Italy with a musician or singer. I acknowledged no natural claim on Adele's part to be supported by me, nor do I now acknowledge any, for I am not her father; but hearing that she was quite destitute⁷⁹, I e'en took the poor thing out of the slime and mud of Paris, and transplanted it here, to grow up clean in the wholesome⁸⁰ soil of an English country garden. Mrs. Fairfax found you to train it; but now you know that it is the illegitimate offspring of a French opera-girl, you will perhaps think differently of your post and protegee: you will be coming to me some day with notice that you have found another place- that you beg me to look out for a new governess, etc.- Eh?'

 

'No: Adele is not answerable for either her mother's faults or yours: I have a regard for her; and now that I know she is, in a sense, parentless- forsaken⁸¹ by her mother and disowned by you, sir- I shall cling closer to her than before. How could I possibly prefer the spoilt pet of a wealthy family, who would hate her governess as a nuisance, to a lonely little orphan⁸², who leans towards her as a friend?'

 

'Oh, that is the light in which you view it! Well, I must go in now; and you too: it darkens.'

 

But I stayed out a few minutes longer with Adele and Pilot- ran a race with her, and played a game of battledore and shuttlecock. When we went in, and I had removed her bonnet⁸³ and coat, I took her on my knee; kept her there an hour, allowing her to prattle⁸⁴ as she liked: not rebuking⁸⁵ even some little freedoms and trivialities into which she was apt to stray when much noticed, and which betrayed in her a superficiality of character, inherited probably from her mother, hardly congenial to an English mind. Still she had her merits; and I was disposed to appreciate all that was good in her to the utmost. I sought in her countenance and features a likeness⁸⁷ to Mr. Rochester, but found none: no trait, no turn of expression announced relationship. It was a pity: if she could but have been proved to resemble him, he would have thought more of her.

 

It was not till after I had withdrawn⁸⁸ to my own chamber⁶⁸ for the night, that I steadily⁸⁹ reviewed the tale Mr. Rochester had told me. As he had said, there was probably nothing at all extraordinary in the substance of the narrative⁹⁰ itself: a wealthy Englishman's passion for a French dancer, and her treachery to him, were every-day matters enough, no doubt, in society; but there was something decidedly strange in the paroxysm of emotion which had suddenly seized him when he was in the act of expressing the present contentment of his mood, and his newly revived pleasure in the old hall and its environs. I meditated⁹¹ wonderingly on this incident; but gradually quitting it, as I found it for the present inexplicable⁹², I turned to the consideration of my master's manner to myself. The confidence he had thought fit to repose⁹³ in me seemed a tribute to my discretion⁹⁴: I regarded and accepted it as such. His deportment had now for some weeks been more uniform towards me than at the first. I never seemed in his way; he did not take fits of chilling hauteur⁹⁵: when he met me unexpectedly, the encounter seemed welcome; he had always a word and sometimes a smile for me: when summoned by formal invitation to his presence, I was honoured by a cordiality of reception that made me feel I really possessed the power to amuse him, and that these evening  conferences were sought as much for his pleasure as for my benefit.

 

I, indeed, talked comparatively little, but I heard him talk with relish⁹⁶. It was his nature to be communicative; he liked to open to a mind unacquainted with the world glimpses of its scenes and ways (I do not mean its corrupt⁹⁷ scenes and wicked ways, but such as derived⁹⁸ their interest from the great scale on which they were acted, the strange novelty by which they were characterised); and I had a keen delight in receiving the new ideas he offered, in imagining the new pictures he portrayed⁹⁹, and following him in thought through the new regions he disclosed, never startled or troubled by one noxious¹⁰⁰ allusion¹⁰¹.#p#分页标题#e#

 

The ease of his manner freed me from painful restraint: the friendly frankness, as correct as cordial, with which he treated me, drew me to him. I felt at times as if he were my relation rather than my master: yet he was imperious sometimes still; but I did not mind that; I saw it was his way. So happy, so gratified did I become with this new interest added to life, that I ceased to pine after kindred: my thin crescent-destiny seemed to enlarge; the blanks of existence were filled up; my bodily health improved; I gathered flesh and strength.

 

And was Mr. Rochester now ugly in my eyes? No, reader: gratitude¹⁰², and many associations, all pleasurable and genial⁸⁶, made his face the object I best liked to see; his presence in a room was more cheering than the brightest fire. Yet I had not forgotten his faults; indeed, I could not, for he brought them frequently before me. He was proud, sardonic¹⁰³, harsh to inferiority of every description: in my secret soul I knew that his great kindness to me was balanced by unjust severity to many others. He was moody¹⁰⁴, too; unaccountably so; I more than once,  when sent for to read to him, found him sitting in his library alone, with his head bent¹⁰⁵ on his folded arms; and, when he looked up, a morose¹⁰⁶, almost a malignant¹⁰⁷, scowl⁵⁴ blackened his features. But I believed that his moodiness¹⁰⁸, his harshness, and his former faults of morality (I say former, for now he seemed corrected of them) had their source in some cruel cross of fate. I believed he was naturally a man of better tendencies, higher principles, and purer tastes than such as circumstances had developed, education instilled¹⁰⁹, or destiny encouraged. I thought there were excellent materials in him; though for the present they hung together somewhat spoiled and tangled¹¹⁰. I cannot deny that I grieved for his grief, whatever that was, and would have given much to assuage¹¹¹ it.

 

Though I had now extinguished my candle and was laid down in bed, I could not sleep for thinking of his look when he paused in the avenue, and told how his destiny had risen up before him, and dared him to be happy at Thornfield.

 

'Why not?' I asked myself. 'What alienates¹¹² him from the house? Will he leave it again soon? Mrs. Fairfax said he seldom stayed here longer than a fortnight at a time; and he has now been resident eight weeks. If he does go, the change will be doleful. Suppose he should be absent spring, summer, and autumn: how joyless sunshine and fine days will seem!'

 

I hardly know whether I had slept or not after this musing¹¹³; at any rate, I started wide awake on hearing a vague murmur, peculiar and lugubrious¹¹⁴, which sounded, I thought, just above me. I wished I had kept my candle burning: the night was drearily¹¹⁵ dark; my spirits were depressed¹¹⁶. I rose and sat up in bed, listening. The sound was hushed.

 

I tried again to sleep; but my heart beat anxiously: my inward tranquillity¹¹⁸ was broken. The clock, far down in the hall, struck two. Just then it seemed my chamber-door was touched; as if fingers had swept the panels in groping a way along the dark gallery outside. I said, 'Who is there?' Nothing answered. I was chilled with fear.

 

All at once I remembered that it might be Pilot, who, when the kitchen-door chanced to be left open, not unfrequently found his way up to the threshold of Mr. Rochester's chamber: I had seen him lying there myself in the mornings. The idea calmed me somewhat: I lay down.

 

Silence composes the nerves; and as an unbroken hush¹¹⁷ now reigned¹¹⁹ again through the whole house, I began to feel the return of slumber¹²⁰. But it was not fated that I should sleep that night. A dream had scarcely approached my ear, when it fled affrighted, scared by a marrow-freezing incident enough.

 

This was a demoniac laugh- low, suppressed, and deep- uttered, as it seemed, at the very keyhole of my chamber door. The head of my bed was near the door, and I thought at first the goblin-laugher stood at my bedside- or rather, crouched¹²¹ by my pillow: but I rose, looked round, and could see nothing; while, as I still gazed, the unnatural¹²² sound was reiterated¹²³: and I knew it came from behind the panels. My first impulse was to rise and fasten the bolt; my next, again to cry out, 'Who is there?'

 

Something gurgled and moaned. Ere long, steps retreated up the gallery towards the third-storey staircase: a door had lately been made to shut in that staircase; I heard it open and close, and all was still.

 

'Was that Grace Poole? and is she possessed with a devil?' thought I. Impossible now to remain longer by myself: I must go to Mrs. Fairfax. I hurried on my frock and a shawl; I withdrew the bolt and opened the door with a trembling hand. There was a candle burning just outside, and on the matting in the gallery. I was surprised at this circumstance: but still more was I amazed to perceive the air quite dim, as if filled with smoke; and, while looking to the right hand and left, to find whence these blue wreaths issued, I became further aware of a strong smell of burning.#p#分页标题#e#

 

Something creaked: it was a door ajar; and that door was Mr.

 

Rochester's, and the smoke rushed in a cloud from thence. I thought no more of Mrs. Fairfax; I thought no more of Grace Poole, or the laugh: in an instant, I was within the chamber. Tongues of flame darted¹²⁴ round the bed: the curtains were on fire. In the midst of blaze and vapour, Mr. Rochester lay stretched motionless, in deep sleep.

 

'Wake! wake!' I cried. I shook him, but he only murmured and turned: the smoke had stupefied him. Not a moment could be lost: the very sheets were kindling¹²⁵, I rushed to his basin and ewer¹²⁶; fortunately, one was wide and the other deep, and both were filled with water. I heaved them up, deluged¹²⁷ the bed and its occupant, flew back to my own room, brought my own water-jug, baptized the couch afresh, and, by God's aid, succeeded in extinguishing the flames which were devouring¹²⁸ it.

 

The hiss of the quenched¹²⁹ element, the breakage of a pitcher¹³⁰ which I flung from my hand when I had emptied it, and, above all, the splash of the shower-bath I had liberally bestowed¹³¹, roused Mr. Rochester at last. Though it was now dark, I knew he was awake; because I heard him fulminating strange anathemas¹³² at finding himself lying in a pool of water.

 

'Is there a flood?' he cried.

 

No, sir,' I answered; 'but there has been a fire: get up, do; you are quenched now; I will fetch you a candle.'

 

'In the name of all the elves in Christendom, is that Jane Eyre?' he demanded. 'What have you done with me, witch, sorceress? Who is in the room besides you? Have you plotted to drown me?'

 

'I will fetch you a candle, sir; and, in Heaven's name, get up.

 

Somebody has plotted something: you cannot too soon find out who and what it is.'

 

'There! I am up now; but at your peril¹³³ you fetch a candle yet: wait two minutes till I get into some dry garments, if any dry there be- yes, here is my dressing-gown. Now run!'

 

I did run; I brought the candle which still remained in the gallery. He took it from my hand, held it up, and surveyed the bed, all blackened and scorched¹³⁴, the sheets drenched¹³⁵, the carpet round  swimming in water.

 

'What is it? and who did it?' he asked.

 

I briefly¹³⁶ related to him what had transpired¹³⁷: the strange laugh I had heard in the gallery; the step ascending to the third storey; the smoke,- the smell of fire which had conducted me to his room; in what state I had found matters there, and how I had deluged him with all the water I could lay hands on.

 

He listened very gravely; his face, as I went on, expressed more concern than astonishment¹³⁸; he did not immediately speak when I had concluded.

 

'Shall I call Mrs. Fairfax?' I asked.

 

'Mrs. Fairfax? No; what the deuce would you call her for? What can she do? Let her sleep unmolested.'

 

'Then I will fetch Leah, and wake John and his wife.'

 

'Not at all: just be still. You have a shawl on. If you are not warm enough, you may take my cloak yonder; wrap it about you, and sit down in the arm-chair: there,- I will put it on. Now place your feet on the stool, to keep them out of the wet. I am going to leave you a few minutes. I shall take the candle. Remain where you are till I return; be as still as a mouse. I must pay a visit to the second storey. Don't move, remember, or call any one.'

 

He went: I watched the light withdraw. He passed up the gallery very softly, unclosed the staircase door with as little noise as possible, shut it after him, and the last ray vanished. I  was left in total darkness. I listened for some noise, but heard nothing. A very long time elapsed. I grew weary: it was cold, in spite of the cloak; and then I did not see the use of staying, as I was not to rouse the house. I was on the point of risking Mr. Rochester's displeasure by disobeying his orders, when the light once more gleamed dimly on the gallery wall, and I heard his unshod feet tread the matting. 'I hope it is he,' thought I, 'and not something worse.'

 

He re-entered, pale and very gloomy. 'I have found it all out,' said he, setting his candle down on the washstand; 'it is as I thought.'

 

'How, sir?'

 

He made no reply, but stood with his arms folded, looking on the ground. At the end of a few minutes he inquired in rather a peculiar tone-

 

'I forget whether you said you saw anything when you opened your chamber door.'

 

'No, sir, only the candlestick on the ground.'

 

'But you heard an odd laugh? You have heard that laugh before, I should think, or something like it?'#p#分页标题#e#

 

'Yes, sir: there is a woman who sews here, called Grace Poole,- she laughs in that way. She is a singular person.'

 

'Just so. Grace Poole- you have guessed it. She is, as you say, singular- very. Well, I shall reflect on the subject. Meantime, I am glad that you are the only person, besides myself, acquainted with the precise details of to-night's incident. You are no talking fool: say nothing about it. I will account for this state of affairs' (pointing to the bed): 'and now return to your own room. I shall do very well on the sofa in the library for the rest of the night. It is near four:- in two hours the servants will be up.'

 

'Good-night, then, sir,' said I, departing.

 

He seemed surprised- very inconsistently so, as he had just told me to go.

 

'What!' he exclaimed, 'are you quitting me already, and in that way?'

 

'You said I might go, sir.'

 

'But not without taking leave; not without a word or two of acknowledgment and good-will: not, in short, in that brief, dry fashion. Why, you have saved my life!- snatched me from a horrible and excruciating death! and you walk past me as if we were mutual¹³⁹ strangers! At least shake hands.'

 

He held out his hand; I gave him mine: he took it first in one, then in both his own.

 

'You have saved my life: I have a pleasure in owing you so immense a debt. I cannot say more. Nothing else that has being would have been tolerable to me in the character of creditor¹⁴⁰ for such an obligation: but you: it is different;- I feel your benefits no burden, Jane.'

 

He paused; gazed at me: words almost visible trembled on his lips,- but his voice was checked.

 

'Good-night again, sir. There is no debt, benefit, burden, obligation, in the case.'

 

'I knew,' he continued, you would do me good in some way, at some time;- I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld¹⁴¹ you: their expression and smile did not'- (again he stopped)- 'did not' (he proceeded hastily) 'strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing.

 

People talk of natural sympathies; I have heard of good genii: there are grains of truth in the wildest fable¹⁴². My cherished preserver, good-night!'

 

Strange energy was in his voice, strange fire in his look. 'I am glad I happened to be awake,' I said: and then I was going.

 

'What! you will go?'

 

'I am cold, sir.'

 

'Cold? Yes,- and standing¹⁴³ in a pool! Go, then, Jane; go!' But he still retained my hand, and I could not free it. I bethought myself of an expedient¹⁴⁴.

 

'I think I hear Mrs. Fairfax move, sir,' said I.

 

'Well, leave me': he relaxed his fingers, and I was gone.

 

I regained¹⁴⁵ my couch, but never thought of sleep. Till morning dawned I was tossed on a buoyant but unquiet sea, where billows of trouble rolled under surges of joy. I thought sometimes I saw beyond its wild waters a shore, sweet as the hills of Beulah; and now and then a freshening gale¹⁴⁶, wakened by hope, bore my spirit triumphantly¹⁴⁷ towards the bourne: but I could not reach it, even in fancy- a counteracting¹⁴⁸ breeze blew off land, and continually drove me back.

 

Sense would resist delirium¹⁴⁹: judgment¹⁵⁰ would warn passion. Too feverish¹⁵¹ to rest, I rose as soon as day dawned.

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