action, such emotions cannot choose but find their only issue in such events. And certainly we do not feel, what it seems to me the highest triumph of inspired intelligence and creative instinct to succeed in making us feel, that the mainspring of all, the central relation of the whole, 'the very pulse of the machine,' has in it this occult inexplicable force of-nature. But when Catherine Earnshaw says to Nelly Dean, 'I am Heathcliff!' and when Jane Eyre answers Edward Rochester's question, whether she feels in him the absolute sense of fitness and correspondence to herself which he feels to himself in her, with the words which close and crown the history of their twin-born spirits—'To the finest fibre of my nature, sir'—we feel to the finest fibre
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CHARLOTTE BRONTË.
