Keeping going

"How sad to be lying now on a sick bed, and to be in danger of dying! This world is pleasant--it would be dreary to be called from it, and to have to go who knows where?"  And then my mind made its first earnest effort to comprehend what had been infused into it concerning heaven and hell; and for the first time it recoiled, baffled; and for the first time glancing behind, on each side, and before it, it saw all round an unfathomed gulf: it felt the one point where it stood--the present; all the rest was formless cloud and vacant depth; and it shuddered at the thought of tottering, and plunging amid that chaos.  While pondering this new idea, I heard the front door open; Mr. Bates came out, and with him was a nurse.  After she had seen him mount his horse and depart, she was about to close the door, but I ran up to her.  "How is Helen Burns?"  "Very poorly," was the answer.  "Is it her Mr. Bates has been to see?"  "Yes."  "And what does he say about her?"  "He says she'll not be here long."  This phrase, uttered in my hearing yesterday, would have only conveyed the notion that she was about to be removed to Northumberland, to her own home.  I should not have suspected that it meant she was dying; but I knew instantly now!  It opened clear on my comprehension that Helen Burns was numbering her last days in this world, and that she was going to be taken to the region of spirits, if such region there were.  I experienced a shock of horror, then a strong thrill of grief, then a desire--a necessity to see her; and I asked in what room she lay.  "She is in Miss Temple's room," said the nurse.  "May I go up and speak to her?"  "Oh no, child!  It is not likely; and now it is time for you to come in; you'll catch the fever if you stop out when the dew is falling."  The nurse closed the front door; I went in by the side entrance which led to the schoolroom: I was just in time; it was nine o'clock, and Miss Miller was calling the pupils to go to bed.  It might be two hours later, probably near eleven, when I--not having been able to fall asleep, and deeming, from the perfect silence of the dormitory, that my companions were all wrapt in profound repose--rose softly, put on my frock over my night-dress, and, without shoes, crept from the apartment, and set off in quest of Miss Temple's room.  It was quite at the other end of the house; but I knew my way; and the light of the unclouded summer moon, entering here and there at passage windows, enabled me to find it without difficulty.  An odour of camphor and burnt vinegar warned me when I came near the fever room: and I passed its door quickly, fearful lest the nurse who sat up all night should hear me.  I dreaded being discovered and sent back; for I _must_ see Helen,--I must embrace her before she died,--I must give her one last kiss, exchange with her one last word.