r；　held　me　in　thrall　at　present。　Of　late　it　had　been　easy　enough　for　me　to　look　sad：　a　cankering　evil　sat　at　my　heart　and　drained　my　happiness　at　its　source—the　evil　of　suspense。

Perhaps　you　think　I　had　forgotten　Mr。　Rochester；　reader；　amidst　these　changes　of　place　and　fortune。　Not　for　a　moment。　His　idea　was　still　with　me；　because　it　was　not　a　vapour　sunshine　could　disperse；　nor　a　sand…traced　effigy　storms　could　wash　away；　it　was　a　name　graven　on　a　tablet；　fated　to　last　as　long　as　the　marble　it　inscribed。　The　craving　to　know　what　had　bee　of　him　followed　me　everywhere；　when　I　was　at　Morton；　I　re…entered　my　cottage　every　evening　to　think　of　that；　and　now　at　Moor　House；　I　sought　my　bedroom　each　night　to　brood　over　it。

In　the　course　of　my　necessary　correspondence　with　Mr。　Briggs　about　the　will；　I　had　inquired　if　he　knew　anything　of　Mr。　Rochester’s　present　residence　and　state　of　health；　but；　as　St。　John　had　conjectured；　he　was　quite　ignorant　of　all　concerning　him。　I　then　wrote　to　Mrs。　Fairfax；　entreating　information　on　the　subject。　I　had　calculated　with　certainty　on　this　step　answering　my　end：　I　felt　sure　it　would　elicit　an　early　answer。　I　was　astonished　when　a　fortnight　passed　without　reply；　but　when　two　months　wore　away；　and　day　after　day　the　post　arrived　and　brought　nothing　for　me；　I　fell　a　prey　to　the　keenest　anxiety。

I　wrote　again：　there　was　a　chance　of　my　first　letter　having　missed。　Renewed　hope　followed　renewed　effort：　it　shone　like　the　former　for　some　weeks；　then；　like　it；　it　faded；　flickered：　not　a　line；　not　a　word　reached　me。　When　half　a　year　wasted　in　vain　expectancy；　my　hope　died　out；　and　then　I　felt　dark　indeed。

A　fine　spring　shone　round　me；　which　I　could　not　enjoy。　Summer　approached；　Diana　tried　to　cheer　me：　she　said　I　looked　ill；　an