Ihaveanicelittleboudoirandbedroom，attheendofalongpassageonthefirstfloor。Theservantsandsomeofthespareroomsareonthesecondfloor，andallthelivingroomsareonthegroundfloor。Ihavenotseenoneofthemyet，andIknownothingaboutthehouse，exceptthatonewingofitissaidtobefivehundredyearsold，thatithadamoatrounditonce，andthatitgetsitsnameofBlackwaterfromalakeinthepark。
Eleveno’clockhasjuststruck，inaghostlyandsolemnmanner，fromaturretoverthecentreofthehouse，whichIsawwhenIcamein。Alargedoghasbeenwoke，apparentlybythesoundofthebell，andishowlingandyawningdrearily，somewhereroundacorner。Ihearechoingfootstepsinthepassagesbelow，andtheironthumpingofboltsandbarsatthehousedoor。Theservantsareevidentlygoingtobed。ShallIfollowtheirexample？
No，Iamnothalfsleepyenough。Sleepy，didIsay？IfeelasifIshouldneverclosemyeyesagain。Thebareanticipationofseeingthatdearface，andhearingthatwell-knownvoicetomorrow，keepsmeinaperpetualfeverofexcitement。IfIonlyhadtheprivilegesofaman，IwouldorderoutSirPercival’sbesthorseinstantly，andtearawayonanight-gallop，eastward，tomeettherisingsun——along，hard，heavy，ceaselessgallopofhoursandhours，likethefamoushighwayman’sridetoYork。Being，however，nothingbutawoman，condemnedtopatience，propriety，andpetticoatsforlife，Imustrespectthehousekeeper’sopinions，andtrytocomposemyselfinsomefeebleandfeminineway。
Readingisoutofthequestion——Ican’tfixmyattentiononbooks。
LetmetryifIcanwritemyselfintosleepinessandfatigue。Myjournalhasbeenverymuchneglectedoflate。WhatcanIrecall——standing，asInowdo，onthethresholdofanewlife——ofpersonsandevents，ofchancesandchanges，duringthepastsixmonths——thelong，weary，emptyintervalsinceLaura’swedding-day？