"Jane Eyre"
by Charlotte Bronte

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     "What! you will go?"

     "I am cold, sir."

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

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

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

 

     I regained 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 gale, wakened by hope, bore my spirit triumphantly towards the bourne: but I could not reach it, even in fancy--a counteracting breeze blew off land, and continually drove me back. Sense would resist delirium: judgment would warn passion. Too feverish to rest, I rose as soon as day dawned.

 
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