"It would not be wicked to love me." "It would to obey you." - Charlotte Brontë

But two miles more, and then we rest!
Well, there is still an hour of day,
And long the brightness of the West
Will light us on our devious way;
Sit then, awhile, here in this wood—
So total is the solitude,
We safely may delay.

It is a very strange sensation to inexperienced youth to feel itself quite alone in the world, cut adrift from every connection, uncertain whether the port to which it is bound can be reached, and prevented by many impediments from returning to that it has quitted.

I am not your dear; I cannot lie down: send me to school soon, Mrs. Reed, for I hate to live here.