Neither of these returnings was very pleasant or desirable: no magnet drew me to a given point，increasing in its strength of attraction the nearer I came. The return to Thornfield was yet to be tried.

My journey seemed tedious- very tedious: fifty miles one day，a night spent at an inn; fifty miles the next day. During the first twelve hours I thought of Mrs. Reed in her last moments; I saw her disfigured and discoloured face，and heard her strangely altered voice. I mused on the funeral day，the coffin，the hearse，the black train of tenants and servants- few was the number of relatives- the gaping vault，the silent church，the solemn service. Then I thought of Eliza and Georgiana; I beheld one the cynosure of a ball-room，the other the inmate of a convent cell; and I dwelt on and analysed their separate peculiarities of person and character. The evening gave them quite another turn: laid down on my traveller"s bed，I left reminiscence for anticipation.

I was going back to Thornfield: but how long was I to stay there? Not long; of that I was sure. I had heard from Mrs. Fairfax in the interim of my absence: the party at the hall was dispersed; Mr. Rochester had left for London three weeks ago，but he was then expected to return in a fortnight. Mrs. Fairfax surmised that he was gone to make arrangements for his wedding，as he had talked of purchasing a new carriage: she said the idea of his marrying Miss Ingram still seemed strange to her; but from what everybody said，and from what she had herself seen，she could no longer doubt that the event would shortly take place. "You would be strangely incredulous if you did doubt it," was my mental ment. "I don"t doubt it."

The question followed，"Where was I to go?" I dreamt of Miss Ingram all the night: in a vivid morning dream I saw her closing the gates of Thornfield against me and pointing me out another road; and Mr. Rochester looked on with his arms folded- smiling sardonically，as it seemed，at both her and me.