CHAPTER XXV 362 curtain)-- " it is a lovely night!"
It was. Half heaven was pure and stainless: the clouds, now trooping before the wind, which had shifted to the west, were filing off eastward in long, silvered columns. The moon shone peacefully.
" Well," said Mr. Rochester, gazing inquiringly into my eyes, " how is my Janet now?"
" The night is serene, sir; and so am I."
" And you will not dream of separation and sorrow to-night; but of happy love and blissful union."
This prediction was but half fulfilled: I did not indeed dream of sorrow, but as little did I dream of joy; for I never slept at all. With little Adele in my arms, I watched the slumber of childhood-- so tranquil, so passionless, so innocent-- and waited for the coming day: all my life was awake and astir in my frame: and as soon as the sun rose I rose too. I remember Adele clung to me as I left her: I remember I kissed her as I loosened her little hands from my neck; and I cried over her with strange emotion, and quitted her because I feared my sobs would break her still sound repose. She seemed the emblem of my past life; and he I was now to array myself to meet, the dread, but adored, type of my unknown future day.