I said my evening prayers at its conclusion, and then chose my couch.
{I said my evening prayers: p311.jpg} Beside the crag the heath was very deep: when I lay down my feet were buried in it; rising high on each side, it left only a narrow space for 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 commencement 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.