Jane Eyre, Part 1 of 34
The Sleepy Bookshelf
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Missus Reed, a Friend of Missus Reed's
An inviting born in such a vault, i had been told. Did mister reed lie buried? And led by this thought to recall his idea, i dwelt on it with gathering dread. I wiped my tears and hushed my sobs, fearful lest any sign of violent grief might waken a preternatural voice to comfort me or elicit from the gloom some haloed face bending over me. With strange pity, this idea, consolatory in theory, i felt, would be terrible if realized.
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