第66部分(第2/7 页)

　the　night…air　to　invade。　I　folded　my　shawl　double；　and　spread　it　over　me　for　a　coverlet；　a　low；　mossy　swell　was　my　pillow。　Thus　lodged；　I　was　not；　at　least—at　the　mencement　of　the　night；　cold。

My　rest　might　have　been　blissful　enough；　only　a　sad　heart　broke　it。　It　plained　of　its　gaping　wounds；　its　inward　bleeding；　its　riven　chords。　It　trembled　for　Mr。　Rochester　and　his　doom；　it　bemoaned　him　with　bitter　pity；　it　demanded　him　with　ceaseless　longing；　and；　impotent　as　a　bird　with　both　wings　broken；　it　still　quivered　its　shattered　pinions　in　vain　attempts　to　seek　him。

Worn　out　with　this　torture　of　thought；　I　rose　to　my　knees。　Night　was　e；　and　her　plas　were　risen：　a　safe；　still　night：　too　serene　for　the　panionship　of　fear。　We　know　that　God　is　everywhere；　but　certainly　we　feel　His　presence　most　when　His　works　are　on　the　grandest　scale　spread　before　us；　and　it　is　in　the　unclouded　night…sky；　where　His　worlds　wheel　their　silent　course；　that　we　read　clearest　His　infinitude；　His　omnipotence；　His　omnipresence。　I　had　risen　to　my　knees　to　pray　for　Mr。　Rochester。　Looking　up；　I；　with　tear…dimmed　eyes；　saw　the　mighty　Milky…way。　Remembering　what　it　was—what　countless　systems　there　swept　space　like　a　soft　trace　of　light—I　felt　the　might　and　strength　of　God。　Sure　was　I　of　His　efficiency　to　save　what　He　had　made：　convinced　I　grew　that　neither　earth　should　perish；　nor　one　of　the　souls　it　treasured。　I　turned　my　prayer　to　thanksgiving：　the　Source　of　Life　was　also　the　Saviour　of　spirits。　Mr。　Rochester　was　safe；　he　was　God’s；　and　by　God　would　he　be　guarded。　I　again　nestled　to　the　breast　of　the　hill；　and　ere　long　in　sleep　forgot　sorrow。

But　next　day；　Want　came　to　me　pale　and　bare。　Long　after　the　little　birds　had　left　their　nests；　long　after　bees　had　e　in　the　sweet　prime　of　day