While the rain descends so，must I lay my head on the cold，drenched ground? I fear I cannot do otherwise: for who will receive me? But it will be very dreadful，with this feeling of hunger，faintness，chill，and this sense of desolation- this total prostration of hope.

In all likelihood，though，I should die before morning. And why cannot I reconcile myself to the prospect of death? Why do I struggle to retain a valueless life? Because I know，or believe，Mr. Rochester is living: and then，to die of want and cold is a fate to which nature cannot submit passively. Oh，providence! sustain me a little longer!

Aid!- direct me!"

My glazed eye wandered over the dim and misty landscape. I saw I had strayed far from the village: it was quite out of sight. The very cultivation surrounding it had disappeared. I had，by cross-ways and by-paths，once more drawn near the tract of moorland; and now，only a few fields，almost as wild and unproductive as the heath from which they were scarcely reclaimed，lay between me and the dusky hill.

"Well，I would rather die yonder than in a street or on a frequented road," I reflected. "And far better that crows and ravens- if any ravens there be in these regions- should pick my flesh from my bones，than that they should be prisoned in a workhouse coffin and moulder in a pauper"s grave."

To the hill，then，I turned. I reached it. It remained now only to find a hollow where I could lie down，and feel at least hidden，if not secure. But all the surface of the waste looked level. It showed no variation but of tint: green，where rush and moss overgrew the marshes; black，where the dry soil bore only heath. Dark as it was getting，I could still see these changes，though but as mere alternations of light and shade; for colour had faded with the daylight.

My eye still roved over the sullen swell and along the moor-edge，vanishing amidst the wildest scenery，when at one dim point，far in among the marshes and the ridges，a light sprang up. "That is an ignis fatuus," was my first thought; and I expected it would soon vanish. It burnt on，however，quite steadily，neither receding nor advancing. "Is it，then，a bonfire just kindled?" I questioned. I watched to see whether it would spread: but no; as it did not diminish，so it did not enlarge. "It may be a candle in a house," I then conjectured; "but if so，I can never reach it. It is much too far away: and were it within a yard of me，what would it avail? I should but knock at the door to have it shut in my face."