The manor-house of Ferndean was a building of considerable antiquity, moderate size, and no architectural pretensions, deep buried in a wood. I had heard of it before. Mr. Rochester often spoke of it,

I proceeded: at last my way opened, the trees thinned a little; presently I beheld a railing, then the house - scarce, by this dim light, distinguishable from the trees; so dank and green were its dec

And, reader, do you think I feared him in his blind ferocity? - if you do, you little know me. A soft hope blest with my sorrow that soon I should dare to drop a kiss on that brow of rock, and on thos