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Chapter XXV

           IthoughtIhadfoundthesourceofyourmelancholyinadream." 

           Ishookmyhead."What!istheremore?ButIwillnotbelieveittobeanythingimportant.Iwarnyouofincredulitybeforehand.Goon." 

           Thedisquietudeofhisair,thesomewhatapprehensiveimpatienceofhismanner,surprisedme:butIproceeded. 

           "Idreamtanotherdream,sir:thatThornfieldHallwasadrearyruin,theretreatofbatsandowls. Ithoughtthatofallthestatelyfrontnothingremainedbutashell-likewall,veryhighandveryfragile-looking. Iwandered,onamoonlightnight,throughthegrass-grownenclosurewithin:hereIstumbledoveramarblehearth,andthereoverafallenfragmentofcornice. Wrappedupinashawl,Istillcarriedtheunknownlittlechild:Imightnotlayitdownanywhere,howevertiredweremyarmshowevermuchitsweightimpededmyprogress,Imustretainit. Iheardthegallopofahorseatadistanceontheroad;Iwassureitwasyou;andyouweredepartingformanyyearsandforadistantcountry. Iclimbedthethinwallwithfranticperiloushaste,eagertocatchoneglimpseofyoufromthetop: thestonesrolledfromundermyfeet,theivybranchesIgraspedgaveway,thechildclungroundmyneckinterror,andalmoststrangledme;atlastIgainedthesummit. Isawyoulikeaspeckonawhitetrack,lesseningeverymoment.TheblastblewsostrongIcouldnotstand. 

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