contemporary abstract painting

Rochester. The lamp was lit. The dock was on the stroke of twelve.
'Hasten to take off your wet things,' said he; 'and before you
go, good-night- good-night, my darling!'
He kissed me repeatedly. When I looked up, on leaving his arms,
there stood the widow, pale, grave, and amazed. I only smiled at
her, and ran upstairs. 'Explanation will do for another time,' thought
I. Still, when I reached my chamber, I felt a pang at the idea she
should even temporarily misconstrue what she had seen. But joy soon
effaced every other feeling; and loud as the wind blew, near and
deep as the thunder crashed, fierce and frequent as the lightning
gleamed, cataract-like as the rain fell during a storm of two hours'
duration, I experienced no fear and little awe. Mr. Rochester came
thrice to my door in the course of it, to ask if I was safe and
tranquil: and that was comfort, that was strength for anything.
Before I left my bed in the morning, little Adele came running in
to tell me that the great horse-chestnut at the bottom of the
orchard had been struck by lightning in the night, and half of it