I was weeping wildly as I walked along my solitary way: fast, fast I went like one delirious.

A weakness, beginning inwardly, extending to the limbs, seized me, and I fell: I lay on the ground some minutes, pressing my face to the wet turf.

I had some fear--or hope--that here I should die: but I was soon up; crawling forwards on my hands and knees, and then again raised to my feet--as eager and as determined as ever to reach the road.
When I got there, I was forced to sit to rest me under the hedge; and while I sat, I heard wheels, and saw a coach come on.

I stood up and lifted my hand; it stopped.

I asked where it was going: the driver named a place a long way off, and where I was sure Mr.Rochester had no connections.