animal painting

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, and wished
to accompany me to the sea-side. This St. John opposed; he said I
did not want dissipation, I wanted employment; my present life was too