Anne Bronte: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

8. CHAPTER VIII (continued)

It was with an agitated, burning heart and brain that I hurried homewards, regardless of that scorching noonday sun - forgetful of everything but her I had just left - regretting nothing but her impenetrability, and my own precipitancy and want of tact - fearing nothing but her hateful resolution, and my inability to overcome it - hoping nothing - but halt, - I will not bore you with my conflicting hopes and fears - my serious cogitations and resolves.