I sought the orchard，driven to its shelter by the wind，which all day had blown strong and full from the south，without，however，bringing a speck of rain. Instead of subsiding as night drew on，it seemed to augment its rush and deepen its roar: the trees blew steadfastly one way，never writhing round，and scarcely tossing back their boughs once in an hour; so continuous was the strain bending their branchy heads northward- the clouds drifted from pole to pole，fast following，mass on mass: no glimpse of blue sky had been visible that July day.

It was not without a certain wild pleasure I ran before the wind，delivering my trouble of mind to the measureless air-torrent thundering through space. Descending the laurel walk，I faced the wreck of the chestnut-tree; it stood up black and riven: the trunk，split down the centre，gaped ghastly. The cloven halves were not broken from each other，for the firm base and strong roots kept them unsundered below; though munity of vitality was destroyed- the sap could flow no more: their great boughs on each side were dead，and next winter"s tempests would be sure to fell one or both to earth: as yet，however，they might be said to form one tree- a ruin，but an entire ruin.

"You did right to hold fast to each other," I said: as if the monster-splinters were living things，and could hear me. "I think，scathed as you look，and charred and scorched，there must be a little sense of life in you yet，rising out of that adhesion at the faithful，honest roots: you will never have green leaves more- never more see birds making nests and singing idyls in your boughs; the time of pleasure and love is over with you: but you are not desolate: each of you has a rade to sympathise with him in his decay." As I looked up at them，the moon appeared momentarily in that part of the sky which filled their fissure; her disk was blood-red and half overcast; she seemed to throw on me one bewildered，dreary glance，and buried herself again instantly in the deep drift of cloud. The wind fell，for a second，round Thornfield; but far away over wood and water，poured a wild，melancholy wail: it was sad to listen to，and I ran off again.