Feeling uncertain about the future, I often checked the last page of a novel, hoping for a happy ending. In Villette, 823. “Here pause: pause at once. There is enough said. Trouble no quiet, kind heart; leave sunny imaginations hope. Let it be theirs to conceive the delight of joy born again fresh out of great terror, the rapture of rescue from peril, the wondrous reprieve from dread, the fruition of return.”
