Neither of these returnings was very pleasant or desirable: no magnet drew me to a given point, increasing in its strength of attraction the nearer I came.

The return to Thornfield was yet to be tried.
My journey seemed tedious--very tedious: fifty miles one day, a night spent at an inn; fifty miles the next day.

During the first twelve hours I thought of Mrs.Reed in her last moments; I saw her disfigured and discoloured face, and heard her strangely altered voice.

I mused on the funeral day, the coffin, the hearse, the black train of tenants and servants--few was the number of relatives--the gaping vault, the silent church, the solemn service.

Then I thought of Eliza and Georgiana; I beheld one the cynosure of a ball-room, the other the inmate of a convent cell; and I dwelt on and analysed their separate peculiarities of person and character.