oil painting from picture

its wild waters a shore, sweet as the hills of Beulah; and now and
then a freshening gale, wakened by hope, bore my spirit triumphantly
towards the bourne: but I could not reach it, even in fancy- a
counteracting breeze blew off land, and continually drove me back.
Sense would resist delirium: judgment would warn passion. Too feverish
to rest, I rose as soon as day dawned.

I BOTH wished and feared to see Mr. Rochester on the day which
followed this sleepless night: I wanted to hear his voice again, yet
feared to meet his eye. During the early part of the morning, I
momentarily expected his coming; he was not in the frequent habit of
entering the schoolroom, but he did step in for a few minutes
sometimes, and I had the impression that he was sure to visit it
that day.
But the morning passed just as usual: nothing happened to interrupt
the quiet course of Adele's studies; only soon after breakfast, I
heard some bustle in the neighbourhood of Mr. Rochester's chamber,