nude oil painting

nude oil painting
looked into my heart, examined its thoughts and feelings, and
endeavoured to bring back with a strict hand such as had been straying
through imagination's boundless and trackless waste, into the safe
fold of common sense.
Arraigned at my own bar, Memory having given her evidence of the
hopes, wishes, sentiments I had been cherishing since last night- of
the general state of mind in which I had indulged for nearly a
fortnight past; Reason having come forward and told, in her own
quiet way, a plain, unvarnished tale, showing how I had rejected the
nude oil painting
real, and rabidly devoured the ideal;- I pronounced judgment to this
effect:-
That a greater fool than Jane Eyre had never breathed the breath of
life; that a more fantastic idiot had never surfeited herself on sweet
lies, and swallowed poison as if it were nectar.
'You,' I said, 'a favourite with Mr. Rochester? You gifted with the
power of pleasing him? You of importance to him in any way? Go! your
folly sickens me. And you have derived pleasure from occasional tokens
of preference- equivocal tokens shown by a gentleman of family and a
man of the world to a dependant and a novice. How dared you? Poor
nude oil painting