But what is so headstrong as youth? What so blind as inexperience? These affirmed that it was pleasure enough to have the privilege of again looking on Mr. Rochester, whether he looked on me or not; and they added⁠—“Hasten! hasten! be with him while you may: but a few more days or weeks, at most, and you are parted from him forever!” And then I strangled a newborn agony⁠—a deformed thing which I could not persuade myself to own and rear⁠—and ran on.

They are making hay, too, in Thornfield meadows: or rather, the labourers are just quitting their work, and returning home with their rakes on their shoulders, now, at the hour I arrive. I have but a field or two to traverse, and then I shall cross the road and reach the gates. How full the hedges are of roses! But I have no time to gather any; I want to be at the house. I passed a tall briar, shooting leafy and flowery branches across the path; I see the narrow stile with stone steps; and I see⁠— Mr. Rochester sitting there, a book and a pencil in his hand; he is writing.