her　mind　again　rally：　at　twelve　o’clock　that　night　she　died。　I　was　not　present　to　close　her　eyes；　nor　were　either　of　her　daughters。　They　came　to　tell　us　the　next　morning　that　all　was　over。　She　was　by　that　time　laid　out。　Eliza　and　I　went　to　look　at　her：　Georgiana；　who　had　burst　out　into　loud　weeping；　said　she　dared　not　go。　There　was　stretched　Sarah　Reed’s　once　robust　and　active　frame；　rigid　and　still：　her　eye　of　flint　was　covered　with　its　cold　lid；　her　brow　and　strong　traits　wore　yet　the　impress　of　her　inexorable　soul。　A　strange　and　solemn　object　was　that　corpse　to　me。　I　gazed　on　it　with　gloom　and　pain：　nothing　soft；　nothing　sweet；　nothing　pitying；　or　hopeful；　or　subduing　did　it　inspire；　only　a　grating　anguish　for　her　woes—not　my　loss—and　a　sombre　tearless　dismay　at　the　fearfulness　of　death　in　such　a　form。

Eliza　surveyed　her　parent　calmly。　After　a　silence　of　some　minutes　she　observed—

“With　her　constitution　she　should　have　lived　to　a　good　old　age：　her　life　was　shortened　by　trouble。”　And　then　a　spasm　constricted　her　mouth　for　an　instant：　as　it　passed　away　she　turned　and　left　the　room；　and　so　did　I。　Neither　of　us　had　dropt　a　tear。

Chapter　22

Mr。　Rochester　had　given　me　but　one　week’s　leave　of　absence：　yet　a　month　elapsed　before　I　quitted　Gateshead。　I　wished　to　leave　immediately　after　the　funeral；　but　Georgiana　entreated　me　to　stay　till　she　could　get　off　to　London；　whither　she　was　now　at　last　invited　by　her　uncle；　Mr。　Gibson；　who　had　e　down　to　direct　hi