There was the stile before me--the very fields through which I had hurried, blind, deaf, distracted with a revengeful fury tracking and scourging me, on the morning I fled from Thornfield: ere I well knew what course I had resolved to take, I was in the midst of them.
Davanti a me stavano le staccionate che avevo varcate la mattina in cui, sorda, cieca, barcollante, me ne ero allontanata, come se fossi inseguita da una furia vendicatrice. Ero già in mezzo ai campi.