Chapter XXXVII
Chapter XXXVIII

Chapter I

THERE was no possibility of taking a walk
that day. We had been wandering, indeed,
in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the
morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when
there was no company, dined early) the cold
winter wind had brought with it clouds so
sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that
further out-door exercise was now out of
the question.

I was glad of it: I never liked long walks,
especially on chilly afternoons: dreadful to
me was the coming home in the raw
twilight, with nipped fingers and toes, and a
heart saddened by the chidings of Bessie,
the nurse, and humbled by the
consciousness of my physical inferiority to
Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed.

The said Eliza, John, and Georgiana were
now clustered round their mama in the
drawing-room: she lay reclined on a sofa by
the fireside, and with her darlings about her
(for the time neither quarrelling nor crying)
looked perfectly happy. Me, she had
dispensed from joining the group; saying,
"She regretted to be under the necessity of
keeping me at a distance; but that until she
heard from Bessie, and could discover by
her own observation, that I was

-1-

promontories" by them only inhabited; of the
coast of Norway, studded with isles from its
southern extremity, the Lindeness, or Naze,
to the North Cape

'Where the Northern Ocean, in vast whirls,

Boils round the naked, melancholy isles

Of farthest Thule; and the Atlantic surge

Pours in among the stormy Hebrides.'

Nor could I pass unnoticed the suggestion
of the bleak shores of Lapland, Siberia,
Spitzbergen, Nova Zembla, Iceland,
Greenland, with "the vast sweep of the
Arctic Zone, and those forlorn regions of
dreary space, that reservoir of frost and
snow, where firm fields of ice, the
accumulation of centuries of winters,
glazed in Alpine heights above heights,
surround the pole, and concentre the
multiplied rigours of extreme cold." Of these
death-white realms I formed an idea of my
own: shadowy, like all the half-
comprehended notions that float dim
through children's brains, but strangely
impressive. The words in these introductory
pages connected themselves with the
succeeding vignettes, and gave
significance to the rock standing up alone in
a sea of billow and spray; to the broken
boat stranded on a desolate coast; to the
cold and ghastly moon glancing through
bars of cloud at a wreck just sinking.

I cannot tell what sentiment haunted the
quite solitary churchyard, with its inscribed
headstone; its gate, its two trees, its low
horizon, girdled by a broken wall, and its
newly-risen crescent, attesting the hour of
eventide.

The two ships becalmed on a torpid sea, I
believed to be marine phantoms.

-2-

"She is in the window-seat, to be sure,
Jack."

And I came out immediately, for I trembled
at the idea of being dragged forth by the
said Jack.

"What do you want?" I asked, with awkward
diffidence.

"Say, 'What do you want, Master Reed?'"
was the answer. "I want you to come here;"
and seating himself in an arm-chair, he
intimated by a gesture that I was to
approach and stand before him.

John Reed was a schoolboy of fourteen
years old; four years older than I, for I was
but ten: large and stout for his age, with a
dingy and unwholesome skin; thick
lineaments in a spacious visage, heavy
limbs and large extremities. He gorged
himself habitually at table, which made him
bilious, and gave him a dim and bleared
eye and flabby cheeks. He ought now to
have been at school; but his mama had
taken him home for a month or two, "on
account of his delicate health." Mr. Miles,
the master, affirmed that he would do very
well if he had fewer cakes and sweetmeats
sent him from home; but the mother's heart
turned from an opinion so harsh, and
inclined rather to the more refined idea that
John's sallowness was owing to over-
application and, perhaps, to pining after
home.

John had not much affection for his mother
and sisters, and an antipathy to me. He
bullied and punished me; not two or three
times in the week, nor once or twice in the
day, but continually: every nerve I had feared
him, and every morsel of flesh in my bones
shrank when he came near. There were
moments when I was bewildered by the
terror he inspired, because I had no appeal

-3-

ought to beg, and not to live here with
gentlemen's children like us, and eat the
same meals we do, and wear clothes at our
mama's expense. Now, I'll teach you to
rummage my bookshelves: for they
aremine; all the house belongs to me, or will
do in a few years. Go and stand by the door,
out of the way of the mirror and the
windows."

I did so, not at first aware what was his
intention; but when I saw him lift and poise
the book and stand in act to hurl it, I
instinctively started aside with a cry of
alarm: not soon enough, however; the
volume was flung, it hit me, and I fell,
striking my head against the door and
cutting it. The cut bled, the pain was sharp:
my terror had passed its climax; other
feelings succeeded.

"Wicked and cruel boy!" I said. "You are like
a murderer you are like a slave-driver you
are like the Roman emperors!"

I had read Goldsmith's History of Rome,
and had formed my opinion of Nero,
Caligula, etc. Also I had drawn parallels in
silence, which I never thought thus to have
declared aloud.

"What! what!" he cried. "Did she say that to
me? Did you hear her, Eliza and
Georgiana? Won't I tell mama? but first"

He ran headlong at me: I felt him grasp my
hair and my shoulder: he had closed with a
desperate thing. I really saw in him a tyrant,
a murderer. I felt a drop or two of blood from
my head trickle down my neck, and was
sensible of somewhat pungent suffering:
these sensations for the time predominated
over fear, and I received him in frantic sort. I
don't very well know what I did with my
hands, but he called me "Rat! Rat!" and
bellowed out aloud. Aid was near him: Eliza

-4-

They had got me by this time into the
apartment indicated by Mrs. Reed, and had
thrust me upon a stool: my impulse was to
rise from it like a spring; their two pair of
hands arrested me instantly.

"If you don't sit still, you must be tied down,"
said Bessie. "Miss Abbot, lend me your
garters; she would break mine directly."

Miss Abbot turned to divest a stout leg of the
necessary ligature. This preparation for
bonds, and the additional ignominy it
inferred, took a little of the excitement out of
me.

"Don't take them off," I cried; "I will not stir."

In guarantee whereof, I attached myself to
my seat by my hands.

"Mind you don't," said Bessie; and when
she had ascertained that I was really
subsiding, she loosened her hold of me;
then she and Miss Abbot stood with folded
arms, looking darkly and doubtfully on my
face, as incredulous of my sanity.

"She never did so before," at last said
Bessie, turning to the Abigail.

"But it was always in her," was the reply.
"I've told Missis often my opinion about the
child, and Missis agreed with me. She's an
underhand little thing: I never saw a girl of
her age with so much cover."

Bessie answered not; but ere long,
addressing me, she said,

"You ought to be aware, Miss, that you are
under obligations to Mrs. Reed: she keeps
you: if she were to turn you off, you would
have to go to the poorhouse."

I had nothing to say to these words: they

-5-

two large windows, with their blinds always
drawn down, were half shrouded in
festoons and falls of similar drapery; the
carpet was red; the table at the foot of the
bed was covered with a crimson cloth; the
walls were a soft fawn colour with a blush of
pink in it; the wardrobe, the toilet-table, the
chairs were of darkly polished old
mahogany. Out of these deep surrounding
shades rose high, and glared white, the
piled-up mattresses and pillows of the bed,
spread with a snowy Marseilles
counterpane. Scarcely less prominent was
an ample cushioned easy-chair near the
head of the bed, also white, with a footstool
before it; and looking, as I thought, like a
pale throne.

This room was chill, because it seldom had
a fire; it was silent, because remote from
the nursery and kitchen; solemn, because it
was known to be so seldom entered. The
house-maid alone came here on
Saturdays, to wipe from the mirrors and the
furniture a week's quiet dust: and Mrs.
Reed herself, at far intervals, visited it to
review the contents of a certain secret
drawer in the wardrobe, where were stored
divers parchments, her jewel-casket, and
a miniature of her deceased husband; and
in those last words lies the secret of the red-
room the spell which kept it so lonely in spite
of its grandeur.

Mr. Reed had been dead nine years: it was
in this chamber he breathed his last; here he
lay in state; hence his coffin was borne by
the undertaker's men; and, since that day, a
sense of dreary consecration had guarded
it from frequent intrusion.

My seat, to which Bessie and the bitter Miss
Abbot had left me riveted, was a low
ottoman near the marble chimney-piece;
the bed rose before me; to my right hand
there was the high, dark wardrobe, with

-6-

purchase indemnity for every fault. John no
one thwarted, much less punished; though
he twisted the necks of the pigeons, killed
the little pea-chicks, set the dogs at the
sheep, stripped the hothouse vines of their
fruit, and broke the buds off the choicest
plants in the conservatory: he called his
mother "old girl," too; sometimes reviled her
for her dark skin, similar to his own; bluntly
disregarded her wishes; not unfrequently
tore and spoiled her silk attire; and he was
still "her own darling." I dared commit no
fault: I strove to fulfil every duty; and I was
termed naughty and tiresome, sullen and
sneaking, from morning to noon, and from
noon to night.

My head still ached and bled with the blow
and fall I had received: no one had reproved
John for wantonly striking me; and because
I had turned against him to avert farther
irrational violence, I was loaded with
general opprobrium.

"Unjust! unjust!" said my reason, forced by
the agonising stimulus into precocious
though transitory power: and Resolve,
equally wrought up, instigated some
strange expedient to achieve escape from
insupportable oppression as running away,
or, if that could not be effected, never eating
or drinking more, and letting myself die.

What a consternation of soul was mine that
dreary afternoon! How all my brain was in
tumult, and all my heart in insurrection! Yet in
what darkness, what dense ignorance, was
the mental battle fought! I could not answer
the ceaseless inward question why I thus
suffered; now, at the distance of I will not
say how many years, I see it clearly.

I was a discord in Gateshead Hall: I was like
nobody there; I had nothing in harmony with
Mrs. Reed or her children, or her chosen
vassalage. If they did not love me, in fact, as

-7-

considered she had kept this promise; and
so she had, I dare say, as well as her nature
would permit her; but how could she really
like an interloper not of her race, and
unconnected with her, after her husband's
death, by any tie? It must have been most
irksome to find herself bound by a hard-
wrung pledge to stand in the stead of a
parent to a strange child she could not love,
and to see an uncongenial alien
permanently intruded on her own family
group.

A singular notion dawned upon me. I
doubted not never doubted that if Mr. Reed
had been alive he would have treated me
kindly; and now, as I sat looking at the white
bed and overshadowed walls occasionally
also turning a fascinated eye towards the
dimly gleaning mirror I began to recall what I
had heard of dead men, troubled in their
graves by the violation of their last wishes,
revisiting the earth to punish the perjured
and avenge the oppressed; and I thought
Mr. Reed's spirit, harassed by the wrongs
of his sister's child, might quit its abode
whether in the church vault or in the unknown
world of the departed and rise before me in
this chamber. I wiped my tears and hushed
my sobs, fearful lest any sign of violent grief
might waken a preternatural voice to
comfort me, or elicit from the gloom some
haloed face, bending over me with strange
pity. This idea, consolatory in theory, I felt
would be terrible if realised: with all my
might I endeavoured to stifle it I
endeavoured to be firm. Shaking my hair
from my eyes, I lifted my head and tried to
look boldly round the dark room; at this
moment a light gleamed on the wall. Was it, I
asked myself, a ray from the moon
penetrating some aperture in the blind? No;
moonlight was still, and this stirred; while I
gazed, it glided up to the ceiling and
quivered over my head. I can now
conjecture readily that this streak of light

-8-

"Miss Jane screamed so loud, ma'am,"
pleaded Bessie.

"Let her go," was the only answer. "Loose
Bessie's hand, child: you cannot succeed in
getting out by these means, be assured. I
abhor artifice, particularly in children; it is
my duty to show you that tricks will not
answer: you will now stay here an hour
longer, and it is only on condition of perfect
submission and stillness that I shall liberate
you then."

"O aunt! have pity! Forgive me! I cannot
endure it let me be punished some other
way! I shall be killed if"

"Silence! This violence is all most
repulsive:" and so, no doubt, she felt it. I was
a precocious actress in her eyes; she
sincerely looked on me as a compound of
virulent passions, mean spirit, and
dangerous duplicity.

Bessie and Abbot having retreated, Mrs.
Reed, impatient of my now frantic anguish
and wild sobs, abruptly thrust me back and
locked me in, without farther parley. I heard
her sweeping away; and soon after she
was gone, I suppose I had a species of fit:
unconsciousness closed the scene.

Chapter III

THE next thing I remember is, waking up
with a feeling as if I had had a frightful
nightmare, and seeing before me a terrible
red glare, crossed with thick black bars. I
heard voices, too, speaking with a hollow
sound, and as if muffled by a rush of wind or
water: agitation, uncertainty, and an all-
predominating sense of terror confused my
faculties. Ere long, I became aware that
some one was handling me; lifting me up
and supporting me in a sitting posture, and
that more tenderly than I had ever been

-9-

Scarcely dared I answer her; for I feared the
next sentence might be rough. "I will try."

"Would you like to drink, or could you eat
anything?"

"No, thank you, Bessie."

"Then I think I shall go to bed, for it is past
twelve o'clock; but you may call me if you
want anything in the night."

Wonderful civility this! It emboldened me to
ask a question.

"Bessie, what is the matter with me? Am I
ill?"

"You fell sick, I suppose, in the red-room
with crying; you'll be better soon, no doubt."

Bessie went into the housemaid's
apartment, which was near. I heard her say

"Sarah, come and sleep with me in the
nursery; I daren't for my life be alone with
that poor child to-night: she might die; it's
such a strange thing she should have that fit:
I wonder if she saw anything. Missis was
rather too hard."

Sarah came back with her; they both went
to bed; they were whispering together for
half-an-hour before they fell asleep. I
caught scraps of their conversation, from
which I was able only too distinctly to infer
the main subject discussed.

"Something passed her, all dressed in
white, and vanished" "A great black dog
behind him" "Three loud raps on the
chamber door" "A light in the churchyard just
over his grave," etc. etc.

At last both slept: the fire and the candle
went out. For me, the watches of that long

-10-

examine it more closely, but had always
hitherto been deemed unworthy of such a
privilege. This precious vessel was now
placed on my knee, and I was cordially
invited to eat the circlet of delicate pastry
upon it. Vain favour! coming, like most other
favours long deferred and often wished for,
too late! I could not eat the tart; and the
plumage of the bird, the tints of the flowers,
seemed strangely faded: I put both plate
and tart away. Bessie asked if I would have
a book: the word book acted as a transient
stimulus, and I begged her to fetch
Gulliver's Travels from the library. This book
I had again and again perused with delight. I
considered it a narrative of facts, and
discovered in it a vein of interest deeper
than what I found in fairy tales: for as to the
elves, having sought them in vain among
foxglove leaves and bells, under
mushrooms and beneath the ground-ivy
mantling old wall-nooks, I had at length
made up my mind to the sad truth, that they
were all gone out of England to some
savage country where the woods were
wilder and thicker, and the population more
scant; whereas, Lilliput and Brobdignag
being, in my creed, solid parts of the earth's
surface, I doubted not that I might one day,
by taking a long voyage, see with my own
eyes the little fields, houses, and trees, the
diminutive people, the tiny cows, sheep,
and birds of the one realm; and the corn-
fields forest-high, the mighty mastiffs, the
monster cats, the tower-like men and
women, of the other. Yet, when this
cherished volume was now placed in my
hand when I turned over its leaves, and
sought in its marvellous pictures the charm I
had, till now, never failed to find all was
eerie and dreary; the giants were gaunt
goblins, the pigmies malevolent and fearful
imps, Gulliver a most desolate wanderer in
most dread and dangerous regions. I
closed the book, which I dared no longer
peruse, and put it on the table, beside the

-11-

Yet distant and soft the night breeze is
blowing,

Clouds there are none, and clear stars
beam mild,

God, in His mercy, protection is showing,

Comfort and hope to the poor orphan child.

Ev'n should I fall o'er the broken bridge
passing,

Or stray in the marshes, by false lights
beguiled,

Still will my Father, with promise and
blessing,

Take to His bosom the poor orphan child.

There is a thought that for strength should
avail me,

Though both of shelter and kindred
despoiled;

Heaven is a home, and a rest will not fail
me;

God is a friend to the poor orphan child.'

"Come, Miss Jane, don't cry," said Bessie
as she finished. She might as well have
said to the fire, "don't burn!" but how could
she divine the morbid suffering to which I
was a prey? In the course of the morning Mr.
Lloyd came again.

"What, already up!" said he, as he entered
the nursery. "Well, nurse, how is she?"

Bessie answered that I was doing very well.

"Then she ought to look more cheerful.
Come here, Miss Jane: your name is Jane,

-12-

make me ill," I added; while Mr. Lloyd
helped himself to a pinch of snuff.

As he was returning the box to his waistcoat
pocket, a loud bell rang for the servants'
dinner; he knew what it was. "That's for you,
nurse," said he; "you can go down; I'll give
Miss Jane a lecture till you come back."

Bessie would rather have stayed, but she
was obliged to go, because punctuality at
meals was rigidly enforced at Gateshead
Hall.

"The fall did not make you ill; what did,
then?" pursued Mr. Lloyd when Bessie was
gone.

"I was shut up in a room where there is a
ghost till after dark."

I saw Mr. Lloyd smile and frown at the same
time. "Ghost! What, you are a baby after all!
You are afraid of ghosts?"

"Of Mr. Reed's ghost I am: he died in that
room, and was laid out there. Neither
Bessie nor any one else will go into it at
night, if they can help it; and it was cruel to
shut me up alone without a candle, so cruel
that I think I shall never forget it."

"Nonsense! And is it that makes you so
miserable? Are you afraid now in daylight?"

"No: but night will come again before long:
and besides, I am unhappy, very unhappy,
for other things."

"What other things? Can you tell me some of
them?"

How much I wished to reply fully to this
question! How difficult it was to frame any
answer! Children can feel, but they cannot
analyse their feelings; and if the analysis is

-13-

nothing about them."

"If you had such, would you like to go to
them?"

I reflected. Poverty looks grim to grown
people; still more so to children: they have
not much idea of industrious, working,
respectable poverty; they think of the word
only as connected with ragged clothes,
scanty food, fireless grates, rude manners,
and debasing vices: poverty for me was
synonymous with degradation.

"No; I should not like to belong to poor
people," was my reply.

"Not even if they were kind to you?"

I shook my head: I could not see how poor
people had the means of being kind; and
then to learn to speak like them, to adopt
their manners, to be uneducated, to grow
up like one of the poor women I saw
sometimes nursing their children or
washing their clothes at the cottage doors
of the village of Gateshead: no, I was not
heroic enough to purchase liberty at the
price of caste.

"But are your relatives so very poor? Are
they working people?"

"I cannot tell; Aunt. Reed says if I have any,
they must be a beggarly set: I should not like
to go a begging."

"Would you like to go to school?"

Again I reflected: I scarcely knew what
school was: Bessie sometimes spoke of it
as a place where young ladies sat in the
stocks, wore backboards, and were
expected to be exceedingly genteel and
precise: John Reed hated his school, and
abused his master; but John Reed's tastes

-14-

asleep, "Missis was, she dared say, glad
enough to get rid of such a tiresome, ill-
conditioned child, who always looked as if
she were watching everybody, and
scheming plots underhand." Abbot, I think,
gave me credit for being a sort of infantine
Guy Fawkes.

On that same occasion I learned, for the first
time, from Miss Abbot's communications to
Bessie, that my father had been a poor
clergyman; that my mother had married him
against the wishes of her friends, who
considered the match beneath her; that my
grandfather Reed was so irritated at her
disobedience, he cut her off without a
shilling; that after my mother and father had
been married a year, the latter caught the
typhus fever while visiting among the poor
of a large manufacturing town where his
curacy was situated, and where that
disease was then prevalent: that my mother
took the infection from him, and both died
within a month of each other.

Bessie, when she heard this narrative,
sighed and said, "Poor Miss Jane is to be
pitied, too, Abbot."

"Yes," responded Abbot; "if she were a
nice, pretty child, one might compassionate
her forlornness; but one really cannot care
for such a little toad as that."

"Not a great deal, to be sure," agreed
Bessie: "at any rate, a beauty like Miss
Georgiana would be more moving in the
same condition."

"Yes, I doat on Miss Georgiana!" cried the
fervent Abbot. "Little darling! with her long
curls and her blue eyes, and such a sweet
colour as she has; just as if she were
painted! Bessie, I could fancy a Welsh rabbit
for supper."

-15-

purpose; but he was already with his mama.
I heard him in a blubbering tone commence
the tale of how "that nasty Jane Eyre" had
flown at him like a mad cat: he was stopped
rather harshly

"Don't talk to me about her, John: I told you
not to go near her; she is not worthy of
notice; I do not choose that either you or
your sisters should associate with her."

Here, leaning over the banister, I cried out
suddenly, and without at all deliberating on
my words,

"They are not fit to associate with me."

Mrs. Reed was rather a stout woman; but,
on hearing this strange and audacious
declaration, she ran nimbly up the stair,
swept me like a whirlwind into the nursery,
and crushing me down on the edge of my
crib, dared me in an emphatic voice to rise
from that place, or utter one syllable during
the remainder of the day.

"What would Uncle Reed say to you, if he
were alive?" was my scarcely voluntary
demand. I say scarcely voluntary, for it
seemed as if my tongue pronounced words
without my will consenting to their utterance:
something spoke out of me over which I had
no control.

"What?" said Mrs. Reed under her breath:
her usually cold composed grey eye
became troubled with a look like fear; she
took her hand from my arm, and gazed at
me as if she really did not know whether I
were child or fiend. I was now in for it.

"My Uncle Reed is in heaven, and can see
all you do and think; and so can papa and
mama: they know how you shut me up all
day long, and how you wish me dead."

-16-

glancing round occasionally to make sure
that nothing worse than myself haunted the
shadowy room; and when the embers sank
to a dull red, I undressed hastily, tugging at
knots and strings as I best might, and
sought shelter from cold and darkness in my
crib. To this crib I always took my doll;
human beings must love something, and, in
the dearth of worthier objects of affection, I
contrived to find a pleasure in loving and
cherishing a faded graven image, shabby
as a miniature scarecrow. It puzzles me now
to remember with what absurd sincerity I
doated on this little toy, half fancying it alive
and capable of sensation. I could not sleep
unless it was folded in my night-gown; and
when it lay there safe and warm, I was
comparatively happy, believing it to be
happy likewise.

Long did the hours seem while I waited the
departure of the company, and listened for
the sound of Bessie's step on the stairs:
sometimes she would come up in the
interval to seek her thimble or her scissors,
or perhaps to bring me something by way of
supper a bun or a cheese-cake then she
would sit on the bed while I ate it, and when I
had finished, she would tuck the clothes
round me, and twice she kissed me, and
said, "Good night, Miss Jane." When thus
gentle, Bessie seemed to me the best,
prettiest, kindest being in the world; and I
wished most intensely that she would
always be so pleasant and amiable, and
never push me about, or scold, or task me
unreasonably, as she was too often wont to
do. Bessie Lee must, I think, have been a
girl of good natural capacity, for she was
smart in all she did, and had a remarkable
knack of narrative; so, at least, I judge from
the impression made on me by her nursery
tales. She was pretty too, if my recollections
of her face and person are correct. I
remember her as a slim young woman, with
black hair, dark eyes, very nice features,

-17-

the chairs, etc.). Having spread the quilt and
folded my night-dress, I went to the
window-seat to put in order some picture-
books and doll's house furniture scattered
there; an abrupt command from Georgiana
to let her playthings alone (for the tiny chairs
and mirrors, the fairy plates and cups, were
her property) stopped my proceedings; and
then, for lack of other occupation, I fell to
breathing on the frost-flowers with which
the window was fretted, and thus clearing a
space in the glass through which I might
look out on the grounds, where all was still
and petrified under the influence of a hard
frost.

From this window were visible the porter's
lodge and the carriage-road, and just as I
had dissolved so much of the silver-white
foliage veiling the panes as left room to look
out, I saw the gates thrown open and a
carriage roll through. I watched it ascending
the drive with indifference; carriages often
came to Gateshead, but none ever brought
visitors in whom I was interested; it stopped
in front of the house, the door-bell rang
loudly, the new-comer was admitted. All
this being nothing to me, my vacant
attention soon found livelier attraction in the
spectacle of a little hungry robin, which
came and chirruped on the twigs of the
leafless cherry-tree nailed against the wall
near the casement. The remains of my
breakfast of bread and milk stood on the
table, and having crumbled a morsel of roll, I
was tugging at the sash to put out the
crumbs on the window-sill, when Bessie
came running upstairs into the nursery.

"Miss Jane, take off your pinafore; what are
you doing there? Have you washed your
hands and face this morning?" I gave
another tug before I answered, for I wanted
the bird to be secure of its bread: the sash
yielded; I scattered the crumbs, some on
the stone sill, some on the cherry-tree

-18-

with both hands I turned the stiff door-
handle, which, for a second or two, resisted
my efforts. "What should I see besides Aunt
Reed in the apartment? a man or a
woman?" The handle turned, the door
unclosed, and passing through and
curtseying low, I looked up at a black pillar!
such, at least, appeared to me, at first sight,
the straight, narrow, sable-clad shape
standing erect on the rug: the grim face at
the top was like a carved mask, placed
above the shaft by way of capital.

Mrs. Reed occupied her usual seat by the
fireside; she made a signal to me to
approach; I did so, and she introduced me
to the stony stranger with the words: "This is
the little girl respecting whom I applied to
you."

He, for it was a man, turned his head slowly
towards where I stood, and having
examined me with the two inquisitive-
looking grey eyes which twinkled under a
pair of bushy brows, said solemnly, and in a
bass voice, "Her size is small: what is her
age?"

"Ten years."

"So much?" was the doubtful answer; and
he prolonged his scrutiny for some minutes.
Presently he addressed me: "Your name,
little girl?"

"Jane Eyre, sir."

In uttering these words I looked up: he
seemed to me a tall gentleman; but then I
was very little; his features were large, and
they and all the lines of his frame were
equally harsh and prim.

"Well, Jane Eyre, and are you a good child?"

Impossible to reply to this in the affirmative:

-19-

could not be said of you were you to be
called hence."

Not being in a condition to remove his
doubt, I only cast my eyes down on the two
large feet planted on the rug, and sighed,
wishing myself far enough away.

"I hope that sigh is from the heart, and that
you repent of ever having been the occasion
of discomfort to your excellent
benefactress."

"Benefactress! benefactress!" said I
inwardly: "they all call Mrs. Reed my
benefactress; if so, a benefactress is a
disagreeable thing."

"Do you say your prayers night and
morning?" continued my interrogator.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you read your Bible?"

"Sometimes."

"With pleasure? Are you fond of it?"

"I like Revelations, and the book of Daniel,
and Genesis and Samuel, and a little bit of
Exodus, and some parts of Kings and
Chronicles, and Job and Jonah."

"And the Psalms? I hope you like them?"

"No, sir."

"No? oh, shocking! I have a little boy,
younger than you, who knows six Psalms by
heart: and when you ask him which he
would rather have, a gingerbread-nut to eat
or a verse of a Psalm to learn, he says: 'Oh!
the verse of a Psalm! angels sing Psalms;'
says he, 'I wish to be a little angel here
below;' he then gets two nuts in

-20-

"Nothing, indeed," thought I, as I struggled to
repress a sob, and hastily wiped away
some tears, the impotent evidences of my
anguish.

"Deceit is, indeed, a sad fault in a child,"
said Mr. Brocklehurst; "it is akin to
falsehood, and all liars will have their
portion in the lake burning with fire and
brimstone; she shall, however, be watched,
Mrs. Reed. I will speak to Miss Temple and
the teachers."

"I should wish her to be brought up in a
manner suiting her prospects," continued
my benefactress; "to be made useful, to be
kept humble: as for the vacations, she will,
with your permission, spend them always at
Lowood."

"Your decisions are perfectly judicious,
madam," returned Mr. Brocklehurst.
"Humility is a Christian grace, and one
peculiarly appropriate to the pupils of
Lowood; I, therefore, direct that especial
care shall be bestowed on its cultivation
amongst them. I have studied how best to
mortify in them the worldly sentiment of
pride; and, only the other day, I had a
pleasing proof of my success. My second
daughter, Augusta, went with her mama to
visit the school, and on her return she
exclaimed: 'Oh, dear papa, how quiet and
plain all the girls at Lowood look, with their
hair combed behind their ears, and their
long pinafores, and those little holland
pockets outside their frocks they are almost
like poor people's children! and,' said she,
'they looked at my dress and mama's, as if
they had never seen a silk gown before.'"

"This is the state of things I quite approve,"
returned Mrs. Reed; "had I sought all
England over, I could scarcely have found a
system more exactly fitting a child like Jane
Eyre. Consistency, my dear Mr.

-21-

falsehood and deceit.'"

With these words Mr. Brocklehurst put into
my hand a thin pamphlet sewn in a cover,
and having rung for his carriage, he
departed.

Mrs. Reed and I were left alone: some
minutes passed in silence; she was
sewing, I was watching her. Mrs. Reed
might be at that time some six or seven and
thirty; she was a woman of robust frame,
square-shouldered and strong-limbed, not
tall, and, though stout, not obese: she had a
somewhat large face, the under jaw being
much developed and very solid; her brow
was low, her chin large and prominent,
mouth and nose sufficiently regular; under
her light eyebrows glimmered an eye
devoid of ruth; her skin was dark and
opaque, her hair nearly flaxen; her
constitution was sound as a bell illness
never came near her; she was an exact,
clever manager; her household and tenantry
were thoroughly under her control; her
children only at times defied her authority
and laughed it to scorn; she dressed well,
and had a presence and port calculated to
set off handsome attire.

Sitting on a low stool, a few yards from her
arm-chair, I examined her figure; I perused
her features. In my hand I held the tract
containing the sudden death of the Liar, to
which narrative my attention had been
pointed as to an appropriate warning. What
had just passed; what Mrs. Reed had said
concerning me to Mr. Brocklehurst; the
whole tenor of their conversation, was
recent, raw, and stinging in my mind; I had
felt every word as acutely as I had heard it
plainly, and a passion of resentment
fomented now within me.

Mrs. Reed looked up from her work; her eye
settled on mine, her fingers at the same

-22-

"How dare I, Mrs. Reed? How dare I?
Because it is the truth. You think I have no
feelings, and that I can do without one bit of
love or kindness; but I cannot live so: and
you have no pity. I shall remember how you
thrust me back roughly and violently thrust
me back into the red-room, and locked me
up there, to my dying day; though I was in
agony; though I cried out, while suffocating
with distress, 'Have mercy! Have mercy,
Aunt Reed!' And that punishment you made
me suffer because your wicked boy struck
me knocked me down for nothing. I will tell
anybody who asks me questions, this exact
tale. People think you a good woman, but
you are bad, hard-hearted. You are
deceitful!"

Ere I had finished this reply, my soul began
to expand, to exult, with the strangest sense
of freedom, of triumph, I ever felt. It seemed
as if an invisible bond had burst, and that I
had struggled out into unhoped-for liberty.
Not without cause was this sentiment: Mrs.
Reed looked frightened; her work had
slipped from her knee; she was lifting up
her hands, rocking herself to and fro, and
even twisting her face as if she would cry.

"Jane, you are under a mistake: what is the
matter with you? Why do you tremble so
violently? Would you like to drink some
water?"

"No, Mrs. Reed."

"Is there anything else you wish for, Jane? I
assure you, I desire to be your friend."

"Not you. You told Mr. Brocklehurst I had a
bad character, a deceitful disposition; and
I'll let everybody at Lowood know what you
are, and what you have done."

"Jane, you don't understand these things:
children must be corrected for their faults."

-23-

Mrs. Reed's pardon; but I knew, partly from
experience and partly from instinct, that was
the way to make her repulse me with double
scorn, thereby re-exciting every turbulent
impulse of my nature.

I would fain exercise some better faculty
than that of fierce speaking; fain find
nourishment for some less fiendish feeling
than that of sombre indignation. I took a
book some Arabian tales; I sat down and
endeavoured to read. I could make no
sense of the subject; my own thoughts
swam always between me and the page I
had usually found fascinating. I opened the
glass-door in the breakfast-room: the
shrubbery was quite still: the black frost
reigned, unbroken by sun or breeze,
through the grounds. I covered my head and
arms with the skirt of my frock, and went out
to walk in a part of the plantation which was
quite sequestrated; but I found no pleasure
in the silent trees, the falling fir-cones, the
congealed relics of autumn, russet leaves,
swept by past winds in heaps, and now
stiffened together. I leaned against a gate,
and looked into an empty field where no
sheep were feeding, where the short grass
was nipped and blanched. It was a very grey
day; a most opaque sky, "onding on snaw,"
canopied all; thence flakes felt it intervals,
which settled on the hard path and on the
hoary lea without melting. I stood, a
wretched child enough, whispering to
myself over and over again, "What shall I do?
what shall I do?"

All at once I heard a clear voice call, "Miss
Jane! where are you? Come to lunch!"

It was Bessie, I knew well enough; but I did
not stir; her light step came tripping down
the path.

"You naughty little thing!" she said. "Why
don't you come when you are called?"

-24-

with me. I'll ask cook to bake you a little
cake, and then you shall help me to look
over your drawers; for I am soon to pack
your trunk. Missis intends you to leave
Gateshead in a day or two, and you shall
choose what toys you like to take with you."

"Bessie, you must promise not to scold me
any more till I go."

"Well, I will; but mind you are a very good girl,
and don't be afraid of me. Don't start when I
chance to speak rather sharply; it's so
provoking."

"I don't think I shall ever be afraid of you
again, Bessie, because I have got used to
you, and I shall soon have another set of
people to dread."

"If you dread them they'll dislike you."

"As you do, Bessie?"

"I don't dislike you, Miss; I believe I am
fonder of you than of all the others."

"You don't show it."

"You little sharp thing! you've got quite a
new way of talking. What makes you so
venturesome and hardy?"

"Why, I shall soon be away from you, and
besides----" I was going to say something
about what had passed between me and
Mrs. Reed, but on second thoughts I
considered it better to remain silent on that
head.

"And so you're glad to leave me?"

"Not at all, Bessie; indeed, just now I'm
rather sorry."

"Just now! and rather! How coolly my little

-25-

remember that she had always been my
best friend, and to speak of her and be
grateful to her accordingly."

"What did you say, Miss?"

"Nothing: I covered my face with the
bedclothes, and turned from her to the wall."

"That was wrong, Miss Jane."

"It was quite right, Bessie. Your Missis has
not been my friend: she has been my foe."

"Oh, Miss Jane! don't say so!"

"Good-bye to Gateshead!" cried I, as we
passed through the hall and went out at the
front door.

The moon was set, and it was very dark;
Bessie carried a lantern, whose light
glanced on wet steps and gravel road
sodden by a recent thaw. Raw and chill was
the winter morning: my teeth chattered as I
hastened down the drive. There was a light
in the porter's lodge: when we reached it,
we found the porter's wife just kindling her
fire: my trunk, which had been carried down
the evening before, stood corded at the
door. It wanted but a few minutes of six, and
shortly after that hour had struck, the distant
roll of wheels announced the coming coach;
I went to the door and watched its lamps
approach rapidly through the gloom.

"Is she going by herself?" asked the porter's
wife.

"Yes."

"And how far is it?"

"Fifty miles."

"What a long way! I wonder Mrs. Reed is not

-26-

The afternoon came on wet and somewhat
misty: as it waned into dusk, I began to feel
that we were getting very far indeed from
Gateshead: we ceased to pass through
towns; the country changed; great grey hills
heaved up round the horizon: as twilight
deepened, we descended a valley, dark
with wood, and long after night had
overclouded the prospect, I heard a wild
wind rushing amongst trees.

Lulled by the sound, I at last dropped
asleep; I had not long slumbered when the
sudden cessation of motion awoke me; the
coach-door was open, and a person like a
servant was standing at it: I saw her face
and dress by the light of the lamps.

"Is there a little girl called Jane Eyre here?"
she asked. I answered "Yes," and was then
lifted out; my trunk was handed down, and
the coach instantly drove away.

I was stiff with long sitting, and bewildered
with the noise and motion of the coach:
Gathering my faculties, I looked about me.
Rain, wind, and darkness filled the air;
nevertheless, I dimly discerned a wall
before me and a door open in it; through this
door I passed with my new guide: she shut
and locked it behind her. There was now
visible a house or houses for the building
spread far with many windows, and lights
burning in some; we went up a broad
pebbly path, splashing wet, and were
admitted at a door; then the servant led me
through a passage into a room with a fire,
where she left me alone.

I stood and warmed my numbed fingers
over the blaze, then I looked round; there
was no candle, but the uncertain light from
the hearth showed, by intervals, papered
walls, carpet, curtains, shining mahogany
furniture: it was a parlour, not so spacious
or splendid as the drawing-room at

-27-

passed from compartment to compartment,
from passage to passage, of a large and
irregular building; till, emerging from the
total and somewhat dreary silence
pervading that portion of the house we had
traversed, we came upon the hum of many
voices, and presently entered a wide, long
room, with great deal tables, two at each
end, on each of which burnt a pair of
candles, and seated all round on benches,
a congregation of girls of every age, from
nine or ten to twenty. Seen by the dim light of
the dips, their number to me appeared
countless, though not in reality exceeding
eighty; they were uniformly dressed in
brown stuff frocks of quaint fashion, and
long holland pinafores. It was the hour of
study; they were engaged in conning over
their to-morrow's task, and the hum I had
heard was the combined result of their
whispered repetitions.

Miss Miller signed to me to sit on a bench
near the door, then walking up to the top of
the long room she cried out,

"Monitors, collect the lesson-books and put
them away!

Four tall girls arose from different tables,
and going round, gathered the books and
removed them. Miss Miller again gave the
word of command,

"Monitors, fetch the supper-trays!"

The tall girls went out and returned
presently, each bearing a tray, with portions
of something, I knew not what, arranged
thereon, and a pitcher of water and mug in
the middle of each tray. The portions were
handed round; those who liked took a
draught of the water, the mug being
common to all. When it came to my turn, I
drank, for I was thirsty, but did not touch the
food, excitement and fatigue rendering me

-28-

chairs, placed at the four tables; all held
books in their hands, and a great book, like
a Bible, lay on each table, before the vacant
seat. A pause of some seconds
succeeded, filled up by the low, vague hum
of numbers; Miss Miller walked from class
to class, hushing this indefinite sound.

A distant bell tinkled: immediately three
ladies entered the room, each walked to a
table and took her seat. Miss Miller
assumed the fourth vacant chair, which was
that nearest the door, and around which the
smallest of the children were assembled: to
this inferior class I was called, and placed at
the bottom of it.

Business now began, the day's Collect was
repeated, then certain texts of Scripture
were said, and to these succeeded a
protracted reading of chapters in the Bible,
which lasted an hour. By the time that
exercise was terminated, day had fully
dawned. The indefatigable bell now
sounded for the fourth time: the classes
were marshalled and marched into another
room to breakfast: how glad I was to behold
a prospect of getting something to eat! I
was now nearly sick from inanition, having
taken so little the day before.

The refectory was a great, low-ceiled,
gloomy room; on two long tables smoked
basins of something hot, which, however,
to my dismay, sent forth an odour far from
inviting. I saw a universal manifestation of
discontent when the fumes of the repast
met the nostrils of those destined to
swallow it; from the van of the procession,
the tall girls of the first class, rose the
whispered words:

"Disgusting! The porridge is burnt again!"

"Silence!" ejaculated a voice; not that of
Miss Miller, but one of the upper teachers, a

-29-

the only teacher in the room: a group of
great girls standing about her spoke with
serious and sullen gestures. I heard the
name of Mr. Brocklehurst pronounced by
some lips; at which Miss Miller shook her
head disapprovingly; but she made no great
effort to cheek the general wrath; doubtless
she shared in it.

A clock in the schoolroom struck nine; Miss
Miller left her circle, and standing in the
middle of the room, cried:

"Silence! To your seats!"

Discipline prevailed: in five minutes the
confused throng was resolved into order,
and comparative silence quelled the Babel
clamour of tongues. The upper teachers
now punctually resumed their posts: but still,
all seemed to wait. Ranged on benches
down the sides of the room, the eighty girls
sat motionless and erect; a quaint
assemblage they appeared, all with plain
locks combed from their faces, not a curl
visible; in brown dresses, made high and
surrounded by a narrow tucker about the
throat, with little pockets of holland (shaped
something like a Highlander's purse) tied in
front of their frocks, and destined to serve
the purpose of a work-bag: all, too,
wearing woollen stockings and country-
made shoes, fastened with brass buckles.
Above twenty of those clad in this costume
were full-grown girls, or rather young
women; it suited them ill, and gave an air of
oddity even to the prettiest.

I was still looking at them, and also at
intervals examining the teachers none of
whom precisely pleased me; for the stout
one was a little coarse, the dark one not a
little fierce, the foreigner harsh and
grotesque, and Miss Miller, poor thing!
looked purple, weather-beaten, and over-
worked when, as my eye wandered from

-30-

name written in a prayer-book intrusted to
me to carry to church.

The superintendent of Lowood (for such
was this lady) having taken her seat before
a pair of globes placed on one of the tables,
summoned the first class round her, and
commenced giving a lesson on geography;
the lower classes were called by the
teachers: repetitions in history, grammar,
etc., went on for an hour; writing and
arithmetic succeeded, and music lessons
were given by Miss Temple to some of the
elder girls. The duration of each lesson was
measured by the clock, which at last struck
twelve. The superintendent rose:

"I have a word to address to the pupils," said
she.

The tumult of cessation from lessons was
already breaking forth, but it sank at her
voice. She went on:

"You had this morning a breakfast which you
could not eat; you must be hungry: I have
ordered that a lunch of bread and cheese
shall be served to all."

The teachers looked at her with a sort of
surprise.

"It is to be done on my responsibility," she
added, in an explanatory tone to them, and
immediately afterwards left the room.

The bread and cheese was presently
brought in and distributed, to the high
delight and refreshment of the whole
school. The order was now given "To the
garden!" Each put on a coarse straw
bonnet, with strings of coloured calico, and
a cloak of grey frieze. I was similarly
equipped, and, following the stream, I
made my way into the open air.

-31-

mullioned and latticed windows, which
gave it a church-like aspect; a stone tablet
over the door bore this inscription:

"Lowood Institution. This portion was rebuilt
A.D. , by Naomi Brocklehurst, of
Brocklehurst Hall, in this county." "Let your
light so shine before men, that they may see
your good works, and glorify your Father
which is in heaven." St. Matt. v. 16.

I read these words over and over again: I felt
that an explanation belonged to them, and
was unable fully to penetrate their import. I
was still pondering the signification of
"Institution," and endeavouring to make out
a connection between the first words and
the verse of Scripture, when the sound of a
cough close behind me made me turn my
head. I saw a girl sitting on a stone bench
near; she was bent over a book, on the
perusal of which she seemed intent: from
where I stood I could see the title it was
"Rasselas;" a name that struck me as
strange, and consequently attractive. In
turning a leaf she happened to look up, and I
said to her directly:

"Is your book interesting?" I had already
formed the intention of asking her to lend it
to me some day.

"I like it," she answered, after a pause of a
second or two, during which she examined
me.

"What is it about?" I continued. I hardly know
where I found the hardihood thus to open a
conversation with a stranger; the step was
contrary to my nature and habits: but I think
her occupation touched a chord of
sympathy somewhere; for I too liked
reading, though of a frivolous and childish
kind; I could not digest or comprehend the
serious or substantial.

-32-

"Who subscribes?"

"Different benevolent-minded ladies and
gentlemen in this neighbourhood and in
London."

"Who was Naomi Brocklehurst?"

"The lady who built the new part of this
house as that tablet records, and whose
son overlooks and directs everything here."

"Why?"

"Because he is treasurer and manager of
the establishment."

"Then this house does not belong to that tall
lady who wears a watch, and who said we
were to have some bread and cheese?"

"To Miss Temple? Oh, no! I wish it did: she
has to answer to Mr. Brocklehurst for all she
does. Mr. Brocklehurst buys all our food and
all our clothes."

"Does he live here?"

"No two miles off, at a large hall."

"Is he a good man?"

"He is a clergyman, and is said to do a great
deal of good."

"Did you say that tall lady was called Miss
Temple?"

"Yes."

"And what are the other teachers called?"

"The one with red cheeks is called Miss
Smith; she attends to the work, and cuts out
for we make our own clothes, our frocks,
and pelisses, and everything; the little one

-33-

vessels, whence rose a strong steam
redolent of rancid fat. I found the mess to
consist of indifferent potatoes and strange
shreds of rusty meat, mixed and cooked
together. Of this preparation a tolerably
abundant plateful was apportioned to each
pupil. I ate what I could, and wondered
within myself whether every day's fare
would be like this.

After dinner, we immediately adjourned to
the schoolroom: lessons recommenced,
and were continued till five o'clock.

The only marked event of the afternoon
was, that I saw the girl with whom I had
conversed in the verandah dismissed in
disgrace by Miss Scatcherd from a history
class, and sent to stand in the middle of the
large schoolroom. The punishment seemed
to me in a high degree ignominious,
especially for so great a girl she looked
thirteen or upwards. I expected she would
show signs of great distress and shame;
but to my surprise she neither wept nor
blushed: composed, though grave, she
stood, the central mark of all eyes. "How
can she bear it so quietly so firmly?" I asked
of myself. "Were I in her place, it seems to
me I should wish the earth to open and
swallow me up. She looks as if she were
thinking of something beyond her
punishment beyond her situation: of
something not round her nor before her. I
have heard of day-dreams is she in a day-
dream now? Her eyes are fixed on the floor,
but I am sure they do not see it her sight
seems turned in, gone down into her heart:
she is looking at what she can remember, I
believe; not at what is really present. I
wonder what sort of a girl she is whether
good or naughty."

Soon after five p.m. we had another meal,
consisting of a small mug of coffee, and
half-a-slice of brown bread. I devoured my

-34-

round Miss Scatcherd's chair reading, and
as all was quiet, the subject of their lessons
could be heard, together with the manner in
which each girl acquitted herself, and the
animadversions or commendations of Miss
Scatcherd on the performance. It was
English history: among the readers I
observed my acquaintance of the verandah:
at the commencement of the lesson, her
place had been at the top of the class, but
for some error of pronunciation, or some
inattention to stops, she was suddenly sent
to the very bottom. Even in that obscure
position, Miss Scatcherd continued to
make her an object of constant notice: she
was continually addressing to her such
phrases as the following:

"Burns" (such it seems was her name: the
girls here were all called by their surnames,
as boys are elsewhere), "Burns, you are
standing on the side of your shoe; turn your
toes out immediately." "Burns, you poke
your chin most unpleasantly; draw it in."
"Burns, I insist on your holding your head up;
I will not have you before me in that attitude,"
etc. etc.

A chapter having been read through twice,
the books were closed and the girls
examined. The lesson had comprised part
of the reign of Charles I., and there were
sundry questions about tonnage and
poundage and ship-money, which most of
them appeared unable to answer; still,
every little difficulty was solved instantly
when it reached Burns: her memory
seemed to have retained the substance of
the whole lesson, and she was ready with
answers on every point. I kept expecting that
Miss Scatcherd would praise her attention;
but, instead of that, she suddenly cried out:

"You dirty, disagreeable girl! you have never
cleaned your nails this morning!"

-35-

pleasantest fraction of the day at Lowood:
the bit of bread, the draught of coffee
swallowed at five o'clock had revived
vitality, if it had not satisfied hunger: the long
restraint of the day was slackened; the
schoolroom felt warmer than in the morning
its fires being allowed to burn a little more
brightly, to supply, in some measure, the
place of candles, not yet introduced: the
ruddy gloaming, the licensed uproar, the
confusion of many voices gave one a
welcome sense of liberty.

On the evening of the day on which I had
seen Miss Scatcherd flog her pupil, Burns, I
wandered as usual among the forms and
tables and laughing groups without a
companion, yet not feeling lonely: when I
passed the windows, I now and then lifted a
blind, and looked out; it snowed fast, a drift
was already forming against the lower
panes; putting my ear close to the window, I
could distinguish from the gleeful tumult
within, the disconsolate moan of the wind
outside.

Probably, if I had lately left a good home
and kind parents, this would have been the
hour when I should most keenly have
regretted the separation; that wind would
then have saddened my heart; this obscure
chaos would have disturbed my peace! as it
was, I derived from both a strange
excitement, and reckless and feverish, I
wished the wind to howl more wildly, the
gloom to deepen to darkness, and the
confusion to rise to clamour.

Jumping over forms, and creeping under
tables, I made my way to one of the fire-
places; there, kneeling by the high wire
fender, I found Burns, absorbed, silent,
abstracted from all round her by the
companionship of a book, which she read
by the dim glare of the embers.

-36-

you from the school; that would be a great
grief to your relations. It is far better to
endure patiently a smart which nobody feels
but yourself, than to commit a hasty action
whose evil consequences will extend to all
connected with you; and besides, the Bible
bids us return good for evil."

"But then it seems disgraceful to be
flogged, and to be sent to stand in the
middle of a room full of people; and you are
such a great girl: I am far younger than you,
and I could not bear it."

"Yet it would be your duty to bear it, if you
could not avoid it: it is weak and silly to say
you cannot bear what it is your fate to be
required to bear."

I heard her with wonder: I could not
comprehend this doctrine of endurance;
and still less could I understand or
sympathise with the forbearance she
expressed for her chastiser. Still I felt that
Helen Burns considered things by a light
invisible to my eyes. I suspected she might
be right and I wrong; but I would not ponder
the matter deeply; like Felix, I put it off to a
more convenient season.

"You say you have faults, Helen: what are
they? To me you seem very good."

"Then learn from me, not to judge by
appearances: I am, as Miss Scatcherd
said, slatternly; I seldom put, and never
keep, things, in order; I am careless; I forget
rules; I read when I should learn my lessons;
I have no method; and sometimes I say, like
you, I cannot bear to be subjected to
systematic arrangements. This is all very
provoking to Miss Scatcherd, who is
naturally neat, punctual, and particular."

"And cross and cruel," I added; but Helen
Burns would not admit my addition: she kept

-37-

we had been reading had interested me.
This afternoon, instead of dreaming of
Deepden, I was wondering how a man who
wished to do right could act so unjustly and
unwisely as Charles the First sometimes
did; and I thought what a pity it was that, with
his integrity and conscientiousness, he
could see no farther than the prerogatives of
the crown. If he had but been able to look to
a distance, and see how what they call the
spirit of the age was tending! Still, I like
Charles I respect him I pity him, poor
murdered king! Yes, his enemies were the
worst: they shed blood they had no right to
shed. How dared they kill him!"

Helen was talking to herself now: she had
forgotten I could not very well understand
her that I was ignorant, or nearly so, of the
subject she discussed. I recalled her to my
level.

"And when Miss Temple teaches you, do
your thoughts wander then?"

"No, certainly, not often; because Miss
Temple has generally something to say
which is newer than my own reflections; her
language is singularly agreeable to me, and
the information she communicates is often
just what I wished to gain."

"Well, then, with Miss Temple you are
good?"

"Yes, in a passive way: I make no effort; I
follow as inclination guides me. There is no
merit in such goodness."

"A great deal: you are good to those who
are good to you. It is all I ever desire to be. If
people were always kind and obedient to
those who are cruel and unjust, the wicked
people would have it all their own way: they
would never feel afraid, and so they would
never alter, but would grow worse and

-38-

explain, and I proceeded forthwith to pour
out, in my own way, the tale of my sufferings
and resentments. Bitter and truculent when
excited, I spoke as I felt, without reserve or
softening.

Helen heard me patiently to the end: I
expected she would then make a remark,
but she said nothing.

"Well," I asked impatiently, "is not Mrs. Reed
a hard-hearted, bad woman?"

"She has been unkind to you, no doubt;
because you see, she dislikes your cast of
character, as Miss Scatcherd does mine;
but how minutely you remember all she has
done and said to you! What a singularly
deep impression her injustice seems to
have made on your heart! No ill-usage so
brands its record on my feelings. Would you
not be happier if you tried to forget her
severity, together with the passionate
emotions it excited? Life appears to me too
short to be spent in nursing animosity or
registering wrongs. We are, and must be,
one and all, burdened with faults in this
world: but the time will soon come when, I
trust, we shall put them off in putting off our
corruptible bodies; when debasement and
sin will fall from us with this cumbrous frame
of flesh, and only the spark of the spirit will
remain, the impalpable principle of light and
thought, pure as when it left the Creator to
inspire the creature: whence it came it will
return; perhaps again to be communicated
to some being higher than man perhaps to
pass through gradations of glory, from the
pale human soul to brighten to the seraph!
Surely it will never, on the contrary, be
suffered to degenerate from man to fiend?
No; I cannot believe that: I hold another
creed: which no one ever taught me, and
which I seldom mention; but in which I
delight, and to which I cling: for it extends
hope to all: it makes Eternity a rest a mighty

-39-

cold: we had no boots, the snow got into our
shoes and melted there: our ungloved
hands became numbed and covered with
chilblains, as were our feet: I remember well
the distracting irritation I endured from this
cause every evening, when my feet
inflamed; and the torture of thrusting the
swelled, raw, and stiff toes into my shoes in
the morning. Then the scanty supply of food
was distressing: with the keen appetites of
growing children, we had scarcely sufficient
to keep alive a delicate invalid. From this
deficiency of nourishment resulted an
abuse, which pressed hardly on the younger
pupils: whenever the famished great girls
had an opportunity, they would coax or
menace the little ones out of their portion.
Many a time I have shared between two
claimants the precious morsel of brown
bread distributed at tea-time; and after
relinquishing to a third half the contents of
my mug of coffee, I have swallowed the
remainder with an accompaniment of
secret tears, forced from me by the
exigency of hunger.

Sundays were dreary days in that wintry
season. We had to walk two miles to
Brocklebridge Church, where our patron
officiated. We set out cold, we arrived at
church colder: during the morning service
we became almost paralysed. It was too far
to return to dinner, and an allowance of cold
meat and bread, in the same penurious
proportion observed in our ordinary meals,
was served round between the services.

At the close of the afternoon service we
returned by an exposed and hilly road,
where the bitter winter wind, blowing over a
range of snowy summits to the north, almost
flayed the skin from our faces.

I can remember Miss Temple walking lightly
and rapidly along our drooping line, her
plaid cloak, which the frosty wind fluttered,

-40-

I have not yet alluded to the visits of Mr.
Brocklehurst; and indeed that gentleman
was from home during the greater part of
the first month after my arrival; perhaps
prolonging his stay with his friend the
archdeacon: his absence was a relief to
me. I need not say that I had my own
reasons for dreading his coming: but come
he did at last.

One afternoon (I had then been three weeks
at Lowood), as I was sitting with a slate in
my hand, puzzling over a sum in long
division, my eyes, raised in abstraction to
the window, caught sight of a figure just
passing: I recognised almost instinctively
that gaunt outline; and when, two minutes
after, all the school, teachers included, rose
en masse, it was not necessary for me to
look up in order to ascertain whose
entrance they thus greeted. A long stride
measured the schoolroom, and presently
beside Miss Temple, who herself had risen,
stood the same black column which had
frowned on me so ominously from the
hearthrug of Gateshead. I now glanced
sideways at this piece of architecture. Yes, I
was right: it was Mr. Brocklehurst, buttoned
up in a surtout, and looking longer,
narrower, and more rigid than ever.

I had my own reasons for being dismayed at
this apparition; too well I remembered the
perfidious hints given by Mrs. Reed about
my disposition, etc.; the promise pledged
by Mr. Brocklehurst to apprise Miss Temple
and the teachers of my vicious nature. All
along I had been dreading the fulfilment of
this promise, I had been looking out daily for
the "Coming Man," whose information
respecting my past life and conversation
was to brand me as a bad child for ever:
now there he was. He stood at Miss
Temple's side; he was speaking low in her
ear: I did not doubt he was making
disclosures of my villainy; and I watched her

-41-

"Well, for once it may pass; but please not to
let the circumstance occur too often. And
there is another thing which surprised me; I
find, in settling accounts with the
housekeeper, that a lunch, consisting of
bread and cheese, has twice been served
out to the girls during the past fortnight. How
is this? I looked over the regulations, and I
find no such meal as lunch mentioned. Who
introduced this innovation? and by what
authority?"

"I must be responsible for the circumstance,
sir," replied Miss Temple: "the breakfast
was so ill prepared that the pupils could not
possibly eat it; and I dared not allow them to
remain fasting till dinner-time."

"Madam, allow me an instant. You are
aware that my plan in bringing up these girls
is, not to accustom them to habits of luxury
and indulgence, but to render them hardy,
patient, self-denying. Should any little
accidental disappointment of the appetite
occur, such as the spoiling of a meal, the
under or the over dressing of a dish, the
incident ought not to be neutralised by
replacing with something more delicate the
comfort lost, thus pampering the body and
obviating the aim of this institution; it ought
to be improved to the spiritual edification of
the pupils, by encouraging them to evince
fortitude under temporary privation. A brief
address on those occasions would not be
mistimed, wherein a judicious instructor
would take the opportunity of referring to the
sufferings of the primitive Christians; to the
torments of martyrs; to the exhortations of
our blessed Lord Himself, calling upon His
disciples to take up their cross and follow
Him; to His warnings that man shall not live
by bread alone, but by every word that
proceedeth out of the mouth of God; to His
divine consolations, "If ye suffer hunger or
thirst for My sake, happy are ye." Oh,
madam, when you put bread and cheese,

-42-

Grace: and why that abundance? I have
again and again intimated that I desire the
hair to be arranged closely, modestly,
plainly. Miss Temple, that girl's hair must be
cut off entirely; I will send a barber to-
morrow: and I see others who have far too
much of the excrescence that tall girl, tell her
to turn round. Tell all the first form to rise up
and direct their faces to the wall."

Miss Temple passed her handkerchief over
her lips, as if to smooth away the involuntary
smile that curled them; she gave the order,
however, and when the first class could
take in what was required of them, they
obeyed. Leaning a little back on my bench, I
could see the looks and grimaces with
which they commented on this manoeuvre:
it was a pity Mr. Brocklehurst could not see
them too; he would perhaps have felt that,
whatever he might do with the outside of the
cup and platter, the inside was further
beyond his interference than he imagined.

He scrutinised the reverse of these living
medals some five minutes, then
pronounced sentence. These words fell like
the knell of doom:

"All those top-knots must be cut off."

Miss Temple seemed to remonstrate.

"Madam," he pursued, "I have a Master to
serve whose kingdom is not of this world:
my mission is to mortify in these girls the
lusts of the flesh; to teach them to clothe
themselves with shame-facedness and
sobriety, not with braided hair and costly
apparel; and each of the young persons
before us has a string of hair twisted in
plaits which vanity itself might have woven;
these, I repeat, must be cut off; think of the
time wasted, of----"

Mr. Brocklehurst was here interrupted: three

-43-

slate, I rallied my forces for the worst. It
came.

"A careless girl!" said Mr. Brocklehurst, and
immediately after "It is the new pupil, I
perceive." And before I could draw breath, "I
must not forget I have a word to say
respecting her." Then aloud: how loud it
seemed to me! "Let the child who broke her
slate come forward!"

Of my own accord I could not have stirred; I
was paralysed: but the two great girls who
sit on each side of me, set me on my legs
and pushed me towards the dread judge,
and then Miss Temple gently assisted me to
his very feet, and I caught her whispered
counsel,

"Don't be afraid, Jane, I saw it was an
accident; you shall not be punished."

The kind whisper went to my heart like a
dagger.

"Another minute, and she will despise me
for a hypocrite," thought I; and an impulse of
fury against Reed, Brocklehurst, and Co.
bounded in my pulses at the conviction. I
was no Helen Burns.

"Fetch that stool," said Mr. Brocklehurst,
pointing to a very high one from which a
monitor had just risen: it was brought.

"Place the child upon it."

And I was placed there, by whom I don't
know: I was in no condition to note
particulars; I was only aware that they had
hoisted me up to the height of Mr.
Brocklehurst's nose, that he was within a
yard of me, and that a spread of shot
orange and purple silk pelisses and a cloud
of silvery plumage extended and waved
below me.

-44-

which I, by this time in perfect possession of
my wits, observed all the female
Brocklehursts produce their pocket-
handkerchiefs and apply them to their
optics, while the elderly lady swayed herself
to and fro, and the two younger ones
whispered, "How shocking!"

Mr. Brocklehurst resumed.

"This I learned from her benefactress; from
the pious and charitable lady who adopted
her in her orphan state, reared her as her
own daughter, and whose kindness, whose
generosity the unhappy girl repaid by an
ingratitude so bad, so dreadful, that at last
her excellent patroness was obliged to
separate her from her own young ones,
fearful lest her vicious example should
contaminate their purity: she has sent her
here to be healed, even as the Jews of old
sent their diseased to the troubled pool of
Bethesda; and, teachers, superintendent, I
beg of you not to allow the waters to
stagnate round her."

With this sublime conclusion, Mr.
Brocklehurst adjusted the top button of his
surtout, muttered something to his family,
who rose, bowed to Miss Temple, and then
all the great people sailed in state from the
room. Turning at the door, my judge said:

"Let her stand half-an-hour longer on that
stool, and let no one speak to her during the
remainder of the day."

There was I, then, mounted aloft; I, who had
said I could not bear the shame of standing
on my natural feet in the middle of the room,
was now exposed to general view on a
pedestal of infamy. What my sensations
were no language can describe; but just as
they all rose, stifling my breath and
constricting my throat, a girl came up and
passed me: in passing, she lifted her eyes.

-45-

Already I had made visible progress: that
very morning I had reached the head of my
class; Miss Miller had praised me warmly;
Miss Temple had smiled approbation; she
had promised to teach me drawing, and to
let me learn French, if I continued to make
similar improvement two months longer:
and then I was well received by my fellow-
pupils; treated as an equal by those of my
own age, and not molested by any; now,
here I lay again crushed and trodden on;
and could I ever rise more?

"Never," I thought; and ardently I wished to
die. While sobbing out this wish in broken
accents, some one approached: I started
up again Helen Burns was near me; the
fading fires just showed her coming up the
long, vacant room; she brought my coffee
and bread.

"Come, eat something," she said; but I put
both away from me, feeling as if a drop or a
crumb would have choked me in my present
condition. Helen regarded me, probably
with surprise: I could not now abate my
agitation, though I tried hard; I continued to
weep aloud. She sat down on the ground
near me, embraced her knees with her
arms, and rested her head upon them; in
that attitude she remained silent as an
Indian. I was the first who spoke:

"Helen, why do you stay with a girl whom
everybody believes to be a liar?"

"Everybody, Jane? Why, there are only
eighty people who have heard you called
so, and the world contains hundreds of
millions."

"But what have I to do with millions? The
eighty, I know, despise me."

"Jane, you are mistaken: probably not one
in the school either despises or dislikes you:

-46-

Besides this earth, and besides the race of
men, there is an invisible world and a
kingdom of spirits: that world is round us,
for it is everywhere; and those spirits watch
us, for they are commissioned to guard us;
and if we were dying in pain and shame, if
scorn smote us on all sides, and hatred
crushed us, angels see our tortures,
recognise our innocence (if innocent we be:
as I know you are of this charge which Mr.
Brocklehurst has weakly and pompously
repeated at second-hand from Mrs. Reed;
for I read a sincere nature in your ardent
eyes and on your clear front), and God waits
only the separation of spirit from flesh to
crown us with a full reward. Why, then,
should we ever sink overwhelmed with
distress, when life is so soon over, and
death is so certain an entrance to
happiness to glory?"

I was silent; Helen had calmed me; but in
the tranquillity she imparted there was an
alloy of inexpressible sadness. I felt the
impression of woe as she spoke, but I could
not tell whence it came; and when, having
done speaking, she breathed a little fast
and coughed a short cough, I momentarily
forgot my own sorrows to yield to a vague
concern for her.

Resting my head on Helen's shoulder, I put
my arms round her waist; she drew me to
her, and we reposed in silence. We had not
sat long thus, when another person came in.
Some heavy clouds, swept from the sky by
a rising wind, had left the moon bare; and
her light, streaming in through a window
near, shone full both on us and on the
approaching figure, which we at once
recognised as Miss Temple.

"I came on purpose to find you, Jane Eyre,"
said she; "I want you in my room; and as
Helen Burns is with you, she may come too."

-47-

falsehood; defend yourself to me as well as
you can. Say whatever your memory
suggests is true; but add nothing and
exaggerate nothing."

I resolved, in the depth of my heart, that I
would be most moderate most correct; and,
having reflected a few minutes in order to
arrange coherently what I had to say, I told
her all the story of my sad childhood.
Exhausted by emotion, my language was
more subdued than it generally was when it
developed that sad theme; and mindful of
Helen's warnings against the indulgence of
resentment, I infused into the narrative far
less of gall and wormwood than ordinary.
Thus restrained and simplified, it sounded
more credible: I felt as I went on that Miss
Temple fully believed me.

In the course of the tale I had mentioned Mr.
Lloyd as having come to see me after the fit:
for I never forgot the, to me, frightful
episode of the red-room: in detailing which,
my excitement was sure, in some degree,
to break bounds; for nothing could soften in
my recollection the spasm of agony which
clutched my heart when Mrs. Reed spurned
my wild supplication for pardon, and locked
me a second time in the dark and haunted
chamber.

I had finished: Miss Temple regarded me a
few minutes in silence; she then said

"I know something of Mr. Lloyd; I shall write
to him; if his reply agrees with your
statement, you shall be publicly cleared
from every imputation; to me, Jane, you are
clear now."

She kissed me, and still keeping me at her
side (where I was well contented to stand,
for I derived a child's pleasure from the
contemplation of her face, her dress, her
one or two ornaments, her white forehead,

-48-

Mrs. Harden, be it observed, was the
housekeeper: a woman after Mr.
Brocklehurst's own heart, made up of equal
parts of whalebone and iron.

"Oh, very well!" returned Miss Temple; "we
must make it do, Barbara, I suppose." And
as the girl withdrew she added, smiling,
"Fortunately, I have it in my power to supply
deficiencies for this once."

Having invited Helen and me to approach
the table, and placed before each of us a
cup of tea with one delicious but thin morsel
of toast, she got up, unlocked a drawer, and
taking from it a parcel wrapped in paper,
disclosed presently to our eyes a good-
sized seed-cake.

"I meant to give each of you some of this to
take with you," said she, "but as there is so
little toast, you must have it now," and she
proceeded to cut slices with a generous
hand.

We feasted that evening as on nectar and
ambrosia; and not the least delight of the
entertainment was the smile of gratification
with which our hostess regarded us, as we
satisfied our famished appetites on the
delicate fare she liberally supplied. Tea
over and the tray removed, she again
summoned us to the fire; we sat one on
each side of her, and now a conversation
followed between her and Helen, which it
was indeed a privilege to be admitted to
hear.

Miss Temple had always something of
serenity in her air, of state in her mien, of
refined propriety in her language, which
precluded deviation into the ardent, the
excited, the eager: something which
chastened the pleasure of those who
looked on her and listened to her, by a
controlling sense of awe; and such was my

-49-

drew us to her heart:

"God bless you, my children!"

Helen she held a little longer than me: she let
her go more reluctantly; it was Helen her eye
followed to the door; it was for her she a
second time breathed a sad sigh; for her
she wiped a tear from her cheek.

On reaching the bedroom, we heard the
voice of Miss Scatcherd: she was
examining drawers; she had just pulled out
Helen Burns's, and when we entered Helen
was greeted with a sharp reprimand, and
told that to-morrow she should have half-a-
dozen of untidily folded articles pinned to
her shoulder.

"My things were indeed in shameful
disorder," murmured Helen to me, in a low
voice: "I intended to have arranged them,
but I forgot."

Next morning, Miss Scatcherd wrote in
conspicuous characters on a piece of
pasteboard the word "Slattern," and bound
it like a phylactery round Helen's large, mild,
intelligent, and benign-looking forehead.
She wore it till evening, patient, unresentful,
regarding it as a deserved punishment. The
moment Miss Scatcherd withdrew after
afternoon school, I ran to Helen, tore it off,
and thrust it into the fire: the fury of which
she was incapable had been burning in my
soul all day, and tears, hot and large, had
continually been scalding my cheek; for the
spectacle of her sad resignation gave me
an intolerable pain at the heart.

About a week subsequently to the incidents
above narrated, Miss Temple, who had
written to Mr. Lloyd, received his answer: it
appeared that what he said went to
corroborate my account. Miss Temple,
having assembled the whole school,

-50-

I would not now have exchanged Lowood
with all its privations for Gateshead and its
daily luxuries.

Chapter IX

BUT the privations, or rather the hardships,
of Lowood lessened. Spring drew on: she
was indeed already come; the frosts of
winter had ceased; its snows were melted,
its cutting winds ameliorated. My wretched
feet, flayed and swollen to lameness by the
sharp air of January, began to heal and
subside under the gentler breathings of
April; the nights and mornings no longer by
their Canadian temperature froze the very
blood in our veins; we could now endure the
play-hour passed in the garden: sometimes
on a sunny day it began even to be pleasant
and genial, and a greenness grew over
those brown beds, which, freshening daily,
suggested the thought that Hope traversed
them at night, and left each morning brighter
traces of her steps. Flowers peeped out
amongst the leaves; snow-drops,
crocuses, purple auriculas, and golden-
eyed pansies. On Thursday afternoons
(half-holidays) we now took walks, and
found still sweeter flowers opening by the
wayside, under the hedges.

I discovered, too, that a great pleasure, an
enjoyment which the horizon only bounded,
lay all outside the high and spike-guarded
walls of our garden: this pleasure consisted
in prospect of noble summits girdling a
great hill-hollow, rich in verdure and
shadow; in a bright beck, full of dark stones
and sparkling eddies. How different had
this scene looked when I viewed it laid out
beneath the iron sky of winter, stiffened in
frost, shrouded with snow! when mists as
chill as death wandered to the impulse of
east winds along those purple peaks, and
rolled down "ing" and holm till they blended
with the frozen fog of the beck! That beck

-51-

rules relaxed. The few who continued well
were allowed almost unlimited license;
because the medical attendant insisted on
the necessity of frequent exercise to keep
them in health: and had it been otherwise,
no one had leisure to watch or restrain them.
Miss Temple's whole attention was
absorbed by the patients: she lived in the
sick-room, never quitting it except to snatch
a few hours' rest at night. The teachers
were fully occupied with packing up and
making other necessary preparations for
the departure of those girls who were
fortunate enough to have friends and
relations able and willing to remove them
from the seat of contagion. Many, already
smitten, went home only to die: some died
at the school, and were buried quietly and
quickly, the nature of the malady forbidding
delay.

While disease had thus become an
inhabitant of Lowood, and death its
frequent visitor; while there was gloom and
fear within its walls; while its rooms and
passages steamed with hospital smells, the
drug and the pastille striving vainly to
overcome the effluvia of mortality, that
bright May shone unclouded over the bold
hills and beautiful woodland out of doors. Its
garden, too, glowed with flowers:
hollyhocks had sprung up tall as trees, lilies
had opened, tulips and roses were in
bloom; the borders of the little beds were
gay with pink thrift and crimson double
daisies; the sweetbriars gave out, morning
and evening, their scent of spice and
apples; and these fragrant treasures were
all useless for most of the inmates of
Lowood, except to furnish now and then a
handful of herbs and blossoms to put in a
coffin.

But I, and the rest who continued well,
enjoyed fully the beauties of the scene and
season; they let us ramble in the wood, like

-52-

liberty with her? Had I forgotten her? or was
I so worthless as to have grown tired of her
pare society? Surely the Mary Arm Wilson I
have mentioned was inferior to my first
acquaintance: she could only tell me
amusing stories, and reciprocate any racy
and pungent gossip I chose to indulge in;
while, if I have spoken truth of Helen, she
was qualified to give those who enjoyed the
privilege of her converse a taste of far
higher things.

True, reader; and I knew and felt this: and
though I am a defective being, with many
faults and few redeeming points, yet I never
tired of Helen Burns; nor ever ceased to
cherish for her a sentiment of attachment,
as strong, tender, and respectful as any that
ever animated my heart. How could it be
otherwise, when Helen, at all times and
under all circumstances, evinced for me a
quiet and faithful friendship, which ill-
humour never soured, nor irritation never
troubled? But Helen was ill at present: for
some weeks she had been removed from
my sight to I knew not what room upstairs.
She was not, I was told, in the hospital
portion of the house with the fever patients;
for her complaint was consumption, not
typhus: and by consumption I, in my
ignorance, understood something mild,
which time and care would be sure to
alleviate.

I was confirmed in this idea by the fact of
her once or twice coming downstairs on
very warm sunny afternoons, and being
taken by Miss Temple into the garden; but,
on these occasions, I was not allowed to go
and speak to her; I only saw her from the
schoolroom window, and then not distinctly;
for she was much wrapped up, and sat at a
distance under the verandah.

One evening, in the beginning of June, I had
stayed out very late with Mary Ann in the

-53-

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.

-54-

Miss Temple was not to be seen: I knew
afterwards that she had been called to a
delirious patient in the fever-room. I
advanced; then paused by the crib side: my
hand was on the curtain, but I preferred
speaking before I withdrew it. I still recoiled
at the dread of seeing a corpse.

"Helen!" I whispered softly, "are you
awake?"

She stirred herself, put back the curtain,
and I saw her face, pale, wasted, but quite
composed: she looked so little changed that
my fear was instantly dissipated.

"Can it be you, Jane?" she asked, in her
own gentle voice.

"Oh!" I thought, "she is not going to die; they
are mistaken: she could not speak and look
so calmly if she were."

I got on to her crib and kissed her: her
forehead was cold, and her cheek both cold
and thin, and so were her hand and wrist;
but she smiled as of old.

"Why are you come here, Jane? It is past
eleven o'clock: I heard it strike some
minutes since."

"I came to see you, Helen: I heard you were
very ill, and I could not sleep till I had spoken
to you."

"You came to bid me good-bye, then: you
are just in time probably."

"Are you going somewhere, Helen? Are you
going home?"

"Yes; to my long home my last home."

"No, no, Helen!" I stopped, distressed. While
I tried to devour my tears, a fit of coughing

-55-

He loves me."

"And shall I see you again, Helen, when I
die?"

"You will come to the same region of
happiness: be received by the same
mighty, universal Parent, no doubt, dear
Jane."

Again I questioned, but this time only in
thought. "Where is that region? Does it
exist?" And I clasped my arms closer round
Helen; she seemed dearer to me than ever;
I felt as if I could not let her go; I lay with my
face hidden on her neck. Presently she
said, in the sweetest tone,

"How comfortable I am! That last fit of
coughing has tired me a little; I feel as if I
could sleep: but don't leave me, Jane; I like
to have you near me."

"I'll stay with you, dear Helen: no one shall
take me way."

"Are you warm, darling?"

"Yes."

"Good-night, Jane."

"Good-night, Helen."

She kissed me, and I her, and we both soon
slumbered.

When I awoke it was day: an unusual
movement roused me; I looked up; I was in
somebody's arms; the nurse held me; she
was carrying me through the passage back
to the dormitory. I was not reprimanded for
leaving my bed; people had something else
to think about; no explanation was afforded
then to my many questions; but a day or two
afterwards I learned that Miss Temple, on

-56-

better situation; new regulations were
made; improvements in diet and clothing
introduced; the funds of the school were
intrusted to the management of a
committee. Mr. Brocklehurst, who, from his
wealth and family connections, could not be
overlooked, still retained the post of
treasurer; but he was aided in the discharge
of his duties by gentlemen of rather more
enlarged and sympathising minds: his
office of inspector, too, was shared by
those who knew how to combine reason
with strictness, comfort with economy,
compassion with uprightness. The school,
thus improved, became in time a truly useful
and noble institution. I remained an inmate
of its walls, after its regeneration, for eight
years: six as pupil, and two as teacher; and
in both capacities I bear my testimony to its
value and importance.

During these eight years my life was
uniform: but not unhappy, because it was
not inactive. I had the means of an excellent
education placed within my reach; a
fondness for some of my studies, and a
desire to excel in all, together with a great
delight in pleasing my teachers, especially
such as I loved, urged me on: I availed
myself fully of the advantages offered me. In
time I rose to be the first girl of the first
class; then I was invested with the office of
teacher; which I discharged with zeal for
two years: but at the end of that time I
altered.

Miss Temple, through all changes, had thus
far continued superintendent of the
seminary: to her instruction I owed the best
part of my acquirements; her friendship and
society had been my continual solace; she
had stood me in the stead of mother,
governess, and, latterly, companion. At this
period she married, removed with her
husband (a clergyman, an excellent man,
almost worthy of such a wife) to a distant

-57-

some years been in Lowood: my
experience had been of its rules and
systems; now I remembered that the real
world was wide, and that a varied field of
hopes and fears, of sensations and
excitements, awaited those who had
courage to go forth into its expanse, to seek
real knowledge of life amidst its perils.

I went to my window, opened it, and looked
out. There were the two wings of the
building; there was the garden; there were
the skirts of Lowood; there was the hilly
horizon. My eye passed all other objects to
rest on those most remote, the blue peaks;
it was those I longed to surmount; all within
their boundary of rock and heath seemed
prison-ground, exile limits. I traced the
white road winding round the base of one
mountain, and vanishing in a gorge
between two; how I longed to follow it
farther! I recalled the time when I had
travelled that very road in a coach; I
remembered descending that hill at twilight;
an age seemed to have elapsed since the
day which brought me first to Lowood, and I
had never quitted it since. My vacations had
all been spent at school: Mrs. Reed had
never sent for me to Gateshead; neither she
nor any of her family had ever been to visit
me. I had had no communication by letter or
message with the outer world: school-rules,
school-duties, school-habits and notions,
and voices, and faces, and phrases, and
costumes, and preferences, and
antipathies such was what I knew of
existence. And now I felt that it was not
enough; I tired of the routine of eight years in
one afternoon. I desired liberty; for liberty I
gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it
seemed scattered on the wind then faintly
blowing. I abandoned it and framed a
humbler supplication; for change, stimulus:
that petition, too, seemed swept off into
vague space: "Then," I cried, half
desperate, "grant me at least a new

-58-

"What do I want? A new place, in a new
house, amongst new faces, under new
circumstances: I want this because it is of
no use wanting anything better. How do
people do to get a new place? They apply to
friends, I suppose: I have no friends. There
are many others who have no friends, who
must look about for themselves and be their
own helpers; and what is their resource?"

I could not tell: nothing answered me; I then
ordered my brain to find a response, and
quickly. It worked and worked faster: I felt
the pulses throb in my head and temples;
but for nearly an hour it worked in chaos;
and no result came of its efforts. Feverish
with vain labour, I got up and took a turn in
the room; undrew the curtain, noted a star or
two, shivered with cold, and again crept to
bed.

A kind fairy, in my absence, had surely
dropped the required suggestion on my
pillow; for as I lay down, it came quietly and
naturally to my mind: "Those who want
situations advertise; you must advertise in
the ----shire Herald."

"How? I know nothing about advertising."

Replies rose smooth and prompt now:

"You must enclose the advertisement and
the money to pay for it under a cover
directed to the editor of the Herald; you
must put it, the first opportunity you have,
into the post at Lowton; answers must be
addressed to J.E., at the post-office there;
you can go and inquire in about a week after
you send your letter, if any are come, and
act accordingly."

This scheme I went over twice, thrice; it was
then digested in my mind; I had it in a clear
practical form: I felt satisfied, and fell
asleep.

-59-

My ostensible errand on this occasion was
to get measured for a pair of shoes; so I
discharged that business first, and when it
was done, I stepped across the clean and
quiet little street from the shoemaker's to
the post-office: it was kept by an old dame,
who wore horn spectacles on her nose, and
black mittens on her hands.

"Are there any letters for J.E.?" I asked.

She peered at me over her spectacles, and
then she opened a drawer and fumbled
among its contents for a long time, so long
that my hopes began to falter. At last, having
held a document before her glasses for
nearly five minutes, she presented it across
the counter, accompanying the act by
another inquisitive and mistrustful glance it
was for J.E.

"Is there only one?" I demanded.

"There are no more," said she; and I put it in
my pocket and turned my face homeward: I
could not open it then; rules obliged me to
be back by eight, and it was already half-
past seven.

Various duties awaited me on my arrival. I
had to sit with the girls during their hour of
study; then it was my turn to read prayers; to
see them to bed: afterwards I supped with
the other teachers. Even when we finally
retired for the night, the inevitable Miss
Gryce was still my companion: we had only
a short end of candle in our candlestick, and
I dreaded lest she should talk till it was all
burnt out; fortunately, however, the heavy
supper she had eaten produced a soporific
effect: she was already snoring before I had
finished undressing. There still remained an
inch of candle: I now took out my letter; the
seal was an initial F.; I broke it; the contents
were brief.

-60-

will, probably, be a good way from the
town."

Here the socket of the candle dropped, and
the wick went out.

Next day new steps were to be taken; my
plans could no longer be confined to my
own breast; I must impart them in order to
achieve their success. Having sought and
obtained an audience of the superintendent
during the noontide recreation, I told her I
had a prospect of getting a new situation
where the salary would be double what I
now received (for at Lowood I only got £15
per annum); and requested she would
break the matter for me to Mr. Brocklehurst,
or some of the committee, and ascertain
whether they would permit me to mention
them as references. She obligingly
consented to act as mediatrix in the matter.
The next day she laid the affair before Mr.
Brocklehurst, who said that Mrs. Reed must
be written to, as she was my natural
guardian. A note was accordingly
addressed to that lady, who returned for
answer, that "I might do as I pleased: she
had long relinquished all interference in my
affairs." This note went the round of the
committee, and at last, after what appeared
to me most tedious delay, formal leave was
given me to better my condition if I could;
and an assurance added, that as I had
always conducted myself well, both as
teacher and pupil, at Lowood, a testimonial
of character and capacity, signed by the
inspectors of that institution, should
forthwith be furnished me.

This testimonial I accordingly received in
about a month, forwarded a copy of it to
Mrs. Fairfax, and got that lady's reply,
stating that she was satisfied, and fixing
that day fortnight as the period for my
assuming the post of governess in her
house.

-61-

quite forgotten me, I think, Miss Jane?"

In another second I was embracing and
kissing her rapturously: "Bessie! Bessie!
Bessie!" that was all I said; whereat she half
laughed, half cried, and we both went into
the parlour. By the fire stood a little fellow of
three years old, in plaid frock and trousers.

"That is my little boy," said Bessie directly.

"Then you are married, Bessie?"

"Yes; nearly five years since to Robert
Leaven, the coachman; and I've a little girl
besides Bobby there, that I've christened
Jane."

"And you don't live at Gateshead?"

"I live at the lodge: the old porter has left."

"Well, and how do they all get on? Tell me
everything about them, Bessie: but sit down
first; and, Bobby, come and sit on my knee,
will you?" but Bobby preferred sidling over
to his mother.

"You're not grown so very tall, Miss Jane,
nor so very stout," continued Mrs. Leaven. "I
dare say they've not kept you too well at
school: Miss Reed is the head and
shoulders taller than you are; and Miss
Georgiana would make two of you in
breadth."

"Georgiana is handsome, I suppose,
Bessie?"

"Very. She went up to London last winter
with her mama, and there everybody
admired her, and a young lord fell in love
with her: but his relations were against the
match; and what do you think? he and Miss
Georgiana made it up to run away; but they
were found out and stopped. It was Miss

-62-

I smiled at Bessie's frank answer: I felt that
it was correct, but I confess I was not quite
indifferent to its import: at eighteen most
people wish to please, and the conviction
that they have not an exterior likely to
second that desire brings anything but
gratification.

"I dare say you are clever, though,"
continued Bessie, by way of solace. "What
can you do? Can you play on the piano?"

"A little."

There was one in the room; Bessie went
and opened it, and then asked me to sit
down and give her a tune: I played a waltz or
two, and she was charmed.

"The Miss Reeds could not play as well!"
said she exultingly. "I always said you would
surpass them in learning: and can you
draw?"

"That is one of my paintings over the
chimney-piece." It was a landscape in
water colours, of which I had made a
present to the superintendent, in
acknowledgment of her obliging mediation
with the committee on my behalf, and which
she had framed and glazed.

"Well, that is beautiful, Miss Jane! It is as
fine a picture as any Miss Reed's drawing-
master could paint, let alone the young
ladies themselves, who could not come
near it: and have you learnt French?"

"Yes, Bessie, I can both read it and speak
it."

"And you can work on muslin and canvas?"

"I can."

"Oh, you are quite a lady, Miss Jane! I knew

-63-

the next morning at Lowton, while I was
waiting for the coach. We parted finally at
the door of the Brocklehurst Arms there:
each went her separate way; she set off for
the brow of Lowood Fell to meet the
conveyance which was to take her back to
Gateshead, I mounted the vehicle which
was to bear me to new duties and a new life
in the unknown environs of Millcote.

Chapter XI

A NEW chapter in a novel is something like a
new scene in a play; and when I draw up the
curtain this time, reader, you must fancy you
see a room in the George Inn at Millcote,
with such large figured papering on the
walls as inn rooms have; such a carpet,
such furniture, such ornaments on the
mantelpiece, such prints, including a
portrait of George the Third, and another of
the Prince of Wales, and a representation of
the death of Wolfe. All this is visible to you by
the light of an oil lamp hanging from the
ceiling, and by that of an excellent fire, near
which I sit in my cloak and bonnet; my muff
and umbrella lie on the table, and I am
warming away the numbness and chill
contracted by sixteen hours' exposure to the
rawness of an October day: I left Lowton at
four o'clock A.M., and the Millcote town
clock is now just striking eight.

Reader, though I look comfortably
accommodated, I am not very tranquil in my
mind. I thought when the coach stopped
here there would be some one to meet me; I
looked anxiously round as I descended the
wooden steps the "boots" placed for my
convenience, expecting to hear my name
pronounced, and to see some description
of carriage waiting to convey me to
Thornfield. Nothing of the sort was visible;
and when I asked a waiter if any one had
been to inquire after a Miss Eyre, I was
answered in the negative: so I had no

-64-

Thornfield.

"A matter of six miles."

"How long shall we be before we get
there?"

"Happen an hour and a half."

He fastened the car door, climbed to his
own seat outside, and we set off. Our
progress was leisurely, and gave me ample
time to reflect; I was content to be at length
so near the end of my journey; and as I
leaned back in the comfortable though not
elegant conveyance, I meditated much at
my ease.

"I suppose," thought I, "judging from the
plainness of the servant and carriage, Mrs.
Fairfax is not a very dashing person: so
much the better; I never lived amongst fine
people but once, and I was very miserable
with them. I wonder if she lives alone except
this little girl; if so, and if she is in any
degree amiable, I shall surely be able to get
on with her; I will do my best; it is a pity that
doing one's best does not always answer.
At Lowood, indeed, I took that resolution,
kept it, and succeeded in pleasing; but with
Mrs. Reed, I remember my best was always
spurned with scorn. I pray God Mrs. Fairfax
may not turn out a second Mrs. Reed; but if
she does, I am not bound to stay with her! let
the worst come to the worst, I can advertise
again. How far are we on our road now, I
wonder?"

I let down the window and looked out;
Millcote was behind us; judging by the
number of its lights, it seemed a place of
considerable magnitude, much larger than
Lowton. We were now, as far as I could see,
on a sort of common; but there were houses
scattered all over the district; I felt we were
in a different region to Lowood, more

-65-

wanting to complete the beau-ideal of
domestic comfort. A more reassuring
introduction for a new governess could
scarcely be conceived; there was no
grandeur to overwhelm, no stateliness to
embarrass; and then, as I entered, the old
lady got up and promptly and kindly came
forward to meet me.

"How do you do, my dear? I am afraid you
have had a tedious ride; John drives so
slowly; you must be cold, come to the fire."

"Mrs. Fairfax, I suppose?" said I.

"Yes, you are right: do sit down."

She conducted me to her own chair, and
then began to remove my shawl and untie
my bonnet-strings; I begged she would not
give herself so much trouble.

"Oh, it is no trouble; I dare say your own
hands are almost numbed with cold. Leah,
make a little hot negus and cut a sandwich
or two: here are the keys of the storeroom."

And she produced from her pocket a most
housewifely bunch of keys, and delivered
them to the servant.

"Now, then, draw nearer to the fire," she
continued. "You've brought your luggage
with you, haven't you, my dear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll see it carried into your room," she said,
and bustled out.

"She treats me like a visitor," thought I. "I little
expected such a reception; I anticipated
only coldness and stiffness: this is not like
what I have heard of the treatment of
governesses; but I must not exult too soon."

-66-

sure, and John and his wife are very decent
people; but then you see they are only
servants, and one can't converse with them
on terms of equality: one must keep them at
due distance, for fear of losing one's
authority. I'm sure last winter (it was a very
severe one, if you recollect, and when it did
not snow, it rained and blew), not a creature
but the butcher and postman came to the
house, from November till February; and I
really got quite melancholy with sitting night
after night alone; I had Leah in to read to me
sometimes; but I don't think the poor girl
liked the task much: she felt it confining. In
spring and summer one got on better:
sunshine and long days make such a
difference; and then, just at the
commencement of this autumn, little Adela
Varens came and her nurse: a child makes
a house alive all at once; and now you are
here I shall be quite gay."

My heart really warmed to the worthy lady as
I heard her talk; and I drew my chair a little
nearer to her, and expressed my sincere
wish that she might find my company as
agreeable as she anticipated.

"But I'll not keep you sitting up late to-night,"
said she; "it is on the stroke of twelve now,
and you have been travelling all day: you
must feel tired. If you have got your feet well
warmed, I'll show you your bedroom. I've
had the room next to mine prepared for you;
it is only a small apartment, but I thought you
would like it better than one of the large front
chambers: to be sure they have finer
furniture, but they are so dreary and solitary,
I never sleep in them myself."

I thanked her for her considerate choice,
and as I really felt fatigued with my long
journey, expressed my readiness to retire.
She took her candle, and I followed her from
the room. First she went to see if the hall-
door was fastened; having taken the key

-67-

hope, seemed all astir. I cannot precisely
define what they expected, but it was
something pleasant: not perhaps that day or
that month, but at an indefinite future period.

I rose; I dressed myself with care: obliged to
be plain for I had no article of attire that was
not made with extreme simplicity I was still
by nature solicitous to be neat. It was not my
habit to be disregardful of appearance or
careless of the impression I made: on the
contrary, I ever wished to look as well as I
could, and to please as much as my want of
beauty would permit. I sometimes regretted
that I was not handsomer; I sometimes
wished to have rosy cheeks, a straight
nose, and small cherry mouth; I desired to
be tall, stately, and finely developed in
figure; I felt it a misfortune that I was so little,
so pale, and had features so irregular and
so marked. And why had I these aspirations
and these regrets? It would be difficult to
say: I could not then distinctly say it to
myself; yet I had a reason, and a logical,
natural reason too. However, when I had
brushed my hair very smooth, and put on my
black frock which, Quakerlike as it was, at
least had the merit of fitting to a nicety and
adjusted my clean white tucker, I thought I
should do respectably enough to appear
before Mrs. Fairfax, and that my new pupil
would not at least recoil from me with
antipathy. Having opened my chamber
window, and seen that I left all things
straight and neat on the toilet table, I
ventured forth.

Traversing the long and matted gallery, I
descended the slippery steps of oak; then I
gained the hall: I halted there a minute; I
looked at some pictures on the walls (one, I
remember, represented a grim man in a
cuirass, and one a lady with powdered hair
and a pearl necklace), at a bronze lamp
pendent from the ceiling, at a great clock
whose case was of oak curiously carved,

-68-

an early riser." I went up to her, and was
received with an affable kiss and shake of
the hand.

"How do you like Thornfield?" she asked. I
told her I liked it very much.

"Yes," she said, "it is a pretty place; but I
fear it will be getting out of order, unless Mr.
Rochester should take it into his head to
come and reside here permanently; or, at
least, visit it rather oftener: great houses
and fine grounds require the presence of
the proprietor."

"Mr. Rochester!" I exclaimed. "Who is he?"

"The owner of Thornfield," she responded
quietly. "Did you not know he was called
Rochester?"

Of course I did not I had never heard of him
before; but the old lady seemed to regard
his existence as a universally understood
fact, with which everybody must be
acquainted by instinct.

"I thought," I continued, "Thornfield belonged
to you."

"To me? Bless you, child; what an idea! To
me! I am only the housekeeper the
manager. To be sure I am distantly related
to the Rochesters by the mother's side, or at
least my husband was; he was a
clergyman, incumbent of Hay that little
village yonder on the hill and that church
near the gates was his. The present Mr.
Rochester's mother was a Fairfax, and
second cousin to my husband: but I never
presume on the connection in fact, it is
nothing to me; I consider myself quite in the
light of an ordinary housekeeper: my
employer is always civil, and I expect
nothing more."

-69-

French; but you will make out her meaning
very well, I dare say."

Fortunately I had had the advantage of
being taught French by a French lady; and
as I had always made a point of conversing
with Madame Pierrot as often as I could,
and had besides, during the last seven
years, learnt a portion of French by heart
daily applying myself to take pains with my
accent, and imitating as closely as possible
the pronunciation of my teacher, I had
acquired a certain degree of readiness and
correctness in the language, and was not
likely to be much at a loss with
Mademoiselle Adela. She came and shook
hand with me when she heard that I was her
governess; and as I led her in to breakfast, I
addressed some phrases to her in her own
tongue: she replied briefly at first, but after
we were seated at the table, and she had
examined me some ten minutes with her
large hazel eyes, she suddenly commenced
chattering fluently.

"Ah!" cried she, in French, "you speak my
language as well as Mr. Rochester does: I
can talk to you as I can to him, and so can
Sophie. She will be glad: nobody here
understands her: Madame Fairfax is all
English. Sophie is my nurse; she came with
me over the sea in a great ship with a
chimney that smoked how it did smoke! and
I was sick, and so was Sophie, and so was
Mr. Rochester. Mr. Rochester lay down on a
sofa in a pretty room called the salon, and
Sophie and I had little beds in another place.
I nearly fell out of mine; it was like a shelf.
And Mademoiselle what is your name?"

"Eyre Jane Eyre."

"Aire? Bah! I cannot say it. Well, our ship
stopped in the morning, before it was quite
daylight, at a great city a huge city, with very
dark houses and all smoky; not at all like the

-70-

calls pride to her aid; desires her attendant
to deck her in her brightest jewels and
richest robes, and resolves to meet the
false one that night at a ball, and prove to
him, by the gaiety of her demeanour, how
little his desertion has affected her.

The subject seemed strangely chosen for
an infant singer; but I suppose the point of
the exhibition lay in hearing the notes of love
and jealousy warbled with the lisp of
childhood; and in very bad taste that point
was: at least I thought so.

Adèle sang the canzonette tunefully enough,
and with the naïveté of her age. This
achieved, she jumped from my knee and
said, "Now, Mademoiselle, I will repeat you
some poetry."

Assuming an attitude, she began, "La Ligue
des Rats: fable de La Fontaine." She then
declaimed the little piece with an attention
to punctuation and emphasis, a flexibility of
voice and an appropriateness of gesture,
very unusual indeed at her age, and which
proved she had been carefully trained.

"Was it your mama who taught you that
piece?" I asked.

"Yes, and she just used to say it in this way:
'Qu' avez vous donc? lui dit un de ces rats;
parlez!' She made me lift my hand so to
remind me to raise my voice at the question.
Now shall I dance for you?"

"No, that will do: but after your mama went
to the Holy Virgin, as you say, with whom
did you live then?"

"With Madame Frédéric and her husband:
she took care of me, but she is nothing
related to me. I think she is poor, for she had
not so fine a house as mama. I was not long
there. Mr. Rochester asked me if I would

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folding-doors of which stood open: I went in
when she addressed me. It was a large,
stately apartment, with purple chairs and
curtains, a Turkey carpet, walnut-panelled
walls, one vast window rich in slanted
glass, and a lofty ceiling, nobly moulded.
Mrs. Fairfax was dusting some vases of
fine purple spar, which stood on a
sideboard.

"What a beautiful room!" I exclaimed, as I
looked round; for I had never before seen
any half so imposing.

"Yes; this is the dining-room. I have just
opened the window, to let in a little air and
sunshine; for everything gets so damp in
apartments that are seldom inhabited; the
drawing-room yonder feels like a vault."

She pointed to a wide arch corresponding
to the window, and hung like it with a Tyrian-
dyed curtain, now looped up. Mounting to it
by two broad steps, and looking through, I
thought I caught a glimpse of a fairy place,
so bright to my novice-eyes appeared the
view beyond. Yet it was merely a very pretty
drawing-room, and within it a boudoir, both
spread with white carpets, on which
seemed laid brilliant garlands of flowers;
both ceiled with snowy mouldings of white
grapes and vine-leaves, beneath which
glowed in rich contrast crimson couches
and ottomans; while the ornaments on the
pale Pariain mantelpiece were of sparkling
Bohemian glass, ruby red; and between the
windows large mirrors repeated the general
blending of snow and fire.

"In what order you keep these rooms, Mrs.
Fairfax!" said I. "No dust, no canvas
coverings: except that the air feels chilly,
one would think they were inhabited daily."

"Why, Miss Eyre, though Mr. Rochester's
visits here are rare, they are always sudden

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whether he is in jest or earnest, whether he
is pleased or the contrary; you don't
thoroughly understand him, in short at least,
I don't: but it is of no consequence, he is a
very good master."

This was all the account I got from Mrs.
Fairfax of her employer and mine. There are
people who seem to have no notion of
sketching a character, or observing and
describing salient points, either in persons
or things: the good lady evidently belonged
to this class; my queries puzzled, but did not
draw her out. Mr. Rochester was Mr.
Rochester in her eyes; a gentleman, a
landed proprietor nothing more: she
inquired and searched no further, and
evidently wondered at my wish to gain a
more definite notion of his identity.

When we left the dining-room, she
proposed to show me over the rest of the
house; and I followed her upstairs and
downstairs, admiring as I went; for all was
well arranged and handsome. The large
front chambers I thought especially grand:
and some of the third-storey rooms, though
dark and low, were interesting from their air
of antiquity. The furniture once appropriated
to the lower apartments had from time to
time been removed here, as fashions
changed: and the imperfect light entering by
their narrow casement showed bedsteads
of a hundred years old; chests in oak or
walnut, looking, with their strange carvings
of palm branches and cherubs' heads, like
types of the Hebrew ark; rows of venerable
chairs, high-backed and narrow; stools still
more antiquated, on whose cushioned tops
were yet apparent traces of half-effaced
embroideries, wrought by fingers that for
two generations had been coffin-dust. All
these relics gave to the third storey of
Thornfield Hall the aspect of a home of the
past: a shrine of memory. I liked the hush,
the gloom, the quaintness of these retreats

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like a map: the bright and velvet lawn closely
girdling the grey base of the mansion; the
field, wide as a park, dotted with its ancient
timber; the wood, dun and sere, divided by
a path visibly overgrown, greener with moss
than the trees were with foliage; the church
at the gates, the road, the tranquil hills, all
reposing in the autumn day's sun; the
horizon bounded by a propitious sky, azure,
marbled with pearly white. No feature in the
scene was extraordinary, but all was
pleasing. When I turned from it and
repassed the trap-door, I could scarcely
see my way down the ladder; the attic
seemed black as a vault compared with that
arch of blue air to which I had been looking
up, and to that sunlit scene of grove,
pasture, and green hill, of which the hall was
the centre, and over which I had been
gazing with delight.

Mrs. Fairfax stayed behind a moment to
fasten the trap-door; I, by drift of groping,
found the outlet from the attic, and
proceeded to descend the narrow garret
staircase. I lingered in the long passage to
which this led, separating the front and back
rooms of the third storey: narrow, low, and
dim, with only one little window at the far
end, and looking, with its two rows of small
black doors all shut, like a corridor in some
Bluebeard's castle.

While I paced softly on, the last sound I
expected to hear in so still a region, a laugh,
struck my ear. It was a curious laugh;
distinct, formal, mirthless. I stopped: the
sound ceased, only for an instant; it began
again, louder: for at first, though distinct, it
was very low. It passed off in a clamorous
peal that seemed to wake an echo in every
lonely chamber; though it originated but in
one, and I could have pointed out the door
whence the accents issued.

"Mrs. Fairfax!" I called out: for I now heard

-74-

The conversation, thus turned on Adèle,
continued till we reached the light and
cheerful region below. Adèle came running
to meet us in the hall, exclaiming

"Mesdames, vous etes servies!" adding,
"J'ai bien faim, moi!"

We found dinner ready, and waiting for us in
Mrs. Fairfax's room.

Chapter XII

THE promise of a smooth career, which my
first calm introduction to Thornfield Hall
seemed to pledge, was not belied on a
longer acquaintance with the place and its
inmates. Mrs. Fairfax turned out to be what
she appeared, a placid-tempered, kind-
natured woman, of competent education
and average intelligence. My pupil was a
lively child, who had been spoilt and
indulged, and therefore was sometimes
wayward; but as she was committed
entirely to my care, and no injudicious
interference from any quarter ever thwarted
my plans for her improvement, she soon
forgot her little freaks, and became
obedient and teachable. She had no great
talents, no marked traits of character, no
peculiar development of feeling or taste
which raised her one inch above the
ordinary level of childhood; but neither had
she any deficiency or vice which sunk her
below it. She made reasonable progress,
entertained for me a vivacious, though
perhaps not very profound, affection; and
by her simplicity, gay prattle, and efforts to
please, inspired me, in return, with a
degree of attachment sufficient to make us
both content in each other's society.

This, par parenthèse, will be thought cool
language by persons who entertain solemn
doctrines about the angelic nature of
children, and the duty of those charged with

-75-

certainly, they were many and glowing; to let
my heart be heaved by the exultant
movement, which, while it swelled it in
trouble, expanded it with life; and, best of
all, to open my inward ear to a tale that was
never ended a tale my imagination created,
and narrated continuously; quickened with
all of incident, life, fire, feeling, that I
desired and had not in my actual existence.

It is in vain to say human beings ought to be
satisfied with tranquillity: they must have
action; and they will make it if they cannot
find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller
doom than mine, and millions are in silent
revolt against their lot. Nobody knows how
many rebellions besides political rebellions
ferment in the masses of life which people
earth. Women are supposed to be very calm
generally: but women feel just as men feel;
they need exercise for their faculties, and a
field for their efforts, as much as their
brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a
restraint, too absolute a stagnation,
precisely as men would suffer; and it is
narrow-minded in their more privileged
fellow-creatures to say that they ought to
confine themselves to making puddings
and knitting stockings, to playing on the
piano and embroidering bags. It is
thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at
them, if they seek to do more or learn more
than custom has pronounced necessary for
their sex.

When thus alone, I not unfrequently heard
Grace Poole's laugh: the same peal, the
same low, slow ha! ha! which, when first
heard, had thrilled me: I heard, too, her
eccentric murmurs; stranger than her laugh.
There were days when she was quite silent;
but there were others when I could not
account for the sounds she made.
Sometimes I saw her: she would come out
of her room with a basin, or a plate, or a tray
in her hand, go down to the kitchen and

-76-

"Revenez bientôt, ma bonne amie, ma chère
Mdlle. Jeannette," with a kiss I set out.

The ground was hard, the air was still, my
road was lonely; I walked fast till I got warm,
and then I walked slowly to enjoy and
analyse the species of pleasure brooding
for me in the hour and situation. It was three
o'clock; the church bell tolled as I passed
under the belfry: the charm of the hour lay in
its approaching dimness, in the low-gliding
and pale-beaming sun. I was a mile from
Thornfield, in a lane noted for wild roses in
summer, for nuts and blackberries in
autumn, and even now possessing a few
coral treasures in hips and haws, but whose
best winter delight lay in its utter solitude
and leafless repose. If a breath of air
stirred, it made no sound here; for there
was not a holly, not an evergreen to rustle,
and the stripped hawthorn and hazel bushes
were as still as the white, worn stones
which causewayed the middle of the path.
Far and wide, on each side, there were only
fields, where no cattle now browsed; and
the little brown birds, which stirred
occasionally in the hedge, looked like single
russet leaves that had forgotten to drop.

This lane inclined up-hill all the way to Hay;
having reached the middle, I sat down on a
stile which led thence into a field. Gathering
my mantle about me, and sheltering my
hands in my muff, I did not feel the cold,
though it froze keenly; as was attested by a
sheet of ice covering the causeway, where
a little brooklet, now congealed, had
overflowed after a rapid thaw some days
since. From my seat I could look down on
Thornfield: the grey and battlemented hall
was the principal object in the vale below
me; its woods and dark rookery rose
against the west. I lingered till the sun went
down amongst the trees, and sank crimson
and clear behind them. I then turned
eastward.