Jane Eyre, Part 13 of 34
The Sleepy Bookshelf
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I Believe He Is of Mine
I feel akin to him. I understand the language of his countenance and movement. Though rank and wealth sever us widely, i have something in my brain and heart that assimilates me mentally to him. Did i say, a few days since, that i had nothing to do with him but to receive my salary at his hands? Blasphemy against nature. Every good, true, vigorous feeling i have gathers impulsively round him. I know i muston seal my sentiments. I must smother hope. And yet, while i breathe and think, i must love him.
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