not in words, not outwardly; only at my heart's core.

That night I never thought to sleep, but a slumber fell on me as soon as
I lay down in bed, and in my sleep a vision spoke to my spirit:
"Daughter, flee temptation!" I rose with the dim dawn. One word
comprised my intolerable duty--Depart!

After three days wandering and starvation on the north-midland moors,
for hastily and secretly I had travelled by coach as far from Thornfield
as my money would carry me, I found a temporary home at the vicarage of
Morton, until the clergyman of that moorland parish, Mr. St. John
Rivers, secured for me--under the assumed name of Jane Elliott--the
mistresship of the village school.

At Christmas I left the school. As the spring advanced St. John Rivers,
who, with an icy heroism, was possessed by the idea of becoming a
missionary, urged me strongly to accompany him to India as his wife, on
the grounds that I was docile, diligent, and courageous, and would be
very useful. I felt such veneration for him that I was tempted to cease
struggling with him--to rush down the torrent of his will into the gulf
of his existence, and there lose my own.

_V.--Reunion_

The time came when he called on me to decide. I fervently longed to do
what was right, and only that. "Show me the path, show me the path!" I
entreated of Heaven.

My heart beat fast and thick; I heard its throb. Suddenly it stood still
to an inexpressible feeling that thrilled it through. My senses rose
expectant; ear and eye waited, while the flesh quivered on my bones. I
saw nothing; but I heard a voice, somewhere, cry "Jane! Jane! Jane!"--
nothing more.

"Oh, God! What is it?" I gasped. I might have said, "Where is it?" for
it did not seem in the room, nor in the house, nor in the garden, nor
from overhead. And it was the voice of a human being--a loved,
well-remembered voice--that of Edward Fairfax Rochester; and it spoke in
pain and woe, wildly, eerily, urgently.

"I am coming!" I cried. "Wait for me!" I ran out into the garden; it was
void.

"Down, superstition!" I commented, as that spectre rose up black by the
black yew at the gate.

I mounted to my chamber, locked myself in, fell on my knees, and seemed
to penetrate very near a Mighty Spirit; and my soul rushed out in
gratitude at His feet.

Then I rose from the thanksgiving, took a resolve, and lay down,
unscared, enlightened, eager but for the daylight.

Thirty-six hours later I was crossing the fi