52who will never destroy what He created. North Face Denali Hoodie
I leave no oneto regret me much: I have only a father; and he is lately married,and will not miss me. By dying young, I shall escape greatCharlotte Bront. ElecBook ClassicsJane Eyre sufferings. I had not qualities or talents to make my way very wellin the world: I should have been continually at fault.”“But where are you going to, Helen? Can you see? Do youknow?”“I believe; I have faith: I am going to God.”“Where is God? What is God?”“My Maker and yours, who will never destroy what He created. North Face Denali Hoodie
I rely implicitly on His power, and confide wholly in His goodness:I count the hours till that eventful one arrives which shall restoreme to Him, reveal Him to me.”“You are sure, then, Helen, that there is such a place as heaven,and that our souls can get to it when we die?”“I am sure there is a future state; I believe God is good; I canresign my immortal part to Him without any misgiving. God is myfather; God is my friend: I love Him; I believe He loves me.”“And shall I see you again, Helen, when I die?”“You will come to the same region of happiness: be received bythe same mighty, universal Parent, no doubt, dear Jane.”Again I questioned, but this time only in thought. “Where isthat region? Does it exist?” And I clasped my arms closer roundHelen; she seemed dearer to me than ever; I felt as if I could notlet her go; I lay with my face hidden on her neck. North Face Women's Jacket Presently shesaid, in the sweetest tone—“How comfortable I am! That last fit of coughing has tired me alittle; I feel as if I could sleep: but don’t leave me, Jane; I like tohave you near me.”“I’ll stay with you, dear Helen: no one shall take me way.”“Are you warm, darling?”“Yes.”Charlotte Bront. ElecBook ClassicsJane Eyre “Goodnight, Jane.”“Goodnight, Helen. the north face jacket
”She kissed me, and I her, and we both soon slumbered.When I awoke it was day: an unusual movement roused me; Ilooked up; I was in somebody’s arms; the nurse held me; she wascarrying me through the passage back to the dormitory. I was notreprimanded for leaving my bed; people had something else tothink about; no explanation was afforded then to my manyquestions; but a day or two afterwards I learned that Miss Temple,on returning to her own room at dawn, had found me laid in thelittle crib; my face against Helen Burns’s shoulder, my arms roundher neck. I was asleep, and Helen was—dead.Her grave is in Brocklebridge churchyard: for fifteen years afterher death it was only covered by a grassy mound; but now a greymarble tablet marks the spot, inscribed with her name, and theword “Resurgam.”Charlotte Bront.