28Jane Eyredistinctlytoinferthemainsubjectdiscussed."Something passed her, all dressed in white, and vanished""A great black dog behind him"_"Three loud raps on thechamber door""A light in the churchyard just over his grave,"&c.&c.At last both slept: the fire and the candle went out.For me, thewatches of that long night passed in ghastly wakefulness; strainedbydread:such dread as children only canfeel.No severe or prolonged bodily illness followed this incident ofthe red-room; it only gave my nerves a shock of which I feel thereverberation to this day.Yes, Mrs. Reed, to you I owe somefearful pangs of mental suffering, but I ought to forgive you, foryou knew not what you did: while rending my heart-strings, youthought you were only uprooting my bad propensities. Next day,by noon, I was up and dressed, and sat wrapped in a shawl by thenursery hearth.I felt physically weak and broken down:but myworse ailment was an unutterable wretchedness of mind: awretchedness whichkept drawing fromme silent tears; no soonerhad I wiped one salt drop from my cheek than another followed.Yet, I thought, I ought to have been happy, for none of the Reedswerethere,theywereallgoneoutinthecarriagewiththeirmama.Abbot, too, was sewing in another room, and Bessie, as she movedhither and thither, putting away toys and arranging drawers,addressed to me every now and then a word of unwontedkindness. This state of things should have been to me a paradise ofpeace, accustomed as I was to a life of ceaseless reprimand andthankless fagging; but, in fact, my racked nerves were now in sucha state that no calm could soothe, and no pleasure excite themagreeably.Charlotte BronteElecBookClassics
Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë ElecBook Classics 28 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,” &c. &c. At last both slept: the fire and the candle went out. For me, the watches of that long night passed in ghastly wakefulness; strained by dread: such dread as children only can feel. No severe or prolonged bodily illness followed this incident of the red-room; it only gave my nerves a shock of which I feel the reverberation to this day. Yes, Mrs. Reed, to you I owe some fearful pangs of mental suffering, but I ought to forgive you, for you knew not what you did: while rending my heart-strings, you thought you were only uprooting my bad propensities. Next day, by noon, I was up and dressed, and sat wrapped in a shawl by the nursery hearth. I felt physically weak and broken down: but my worse ailment was an unutterable wretchedness of mind: a wretchedness which kept drawing from me silent tears; no sooner had I wiped one salt drop from my cheek than another followed. Yet, I thought, I ought to have been happy, for none of the Reeds were there, they were all gone out in the carriage with their mama. Abbot, too, was sewing in another room, and Bessie, as she moved hither and thither, putting away toys and arranging drawers, addressed to me every now and then a word of unwonted kindness. This state of things should have been to me a paradise of peace, accustomed as I was to a life of ceaseless reprimand and thankless fagging; but, in fact, my racked nerves were now in such a state that no calm could soothe, and no pleasure excite them agreeably
29JaneEyreBessie had been down into the kitchen, and she brought upwith her a tart on a certain brightly painted china plate, whosebird of paradise,nestling in a wreath of convolvuli and rosebuds,had been wont to stir in mea most enthusiastic sense ofadmiration;and whichplateIhad oftenpetitioned to be allowedtotake in my hand in order to examine it more closely, but hadalways hitherto been deemed unworthy of such a privilege.Thisprecious vessel was now placed on my knee, and I was cordiallyinvited to eat the circlet of delicate pastry upon it. Vain favour!coming, like most other favours long deferred and often wishedfor, 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 plateand tart away. Bessie asked if I would have a book: the word bookacted as a transient stimulus, and I begged her to fetch Gulliver'sTravels from the library.This book I had again and again perusedwith delight. I considered it a narrative of facts, and discovered init a vein of interest deeper than what I found in fairy tales: for as tothe elves, having sought them in vain among foxglove leaves andbells, under mushrooms and beneath the ground-ivy mantling oldwall-nooks, I had at length made up my mind to the sad truth, thattheywere all gone out of England to some savage country wherethe woods were wilder and thicker,and the population morescant; whereas, Lilliput and Brobdignag being, in my creed, solidparts of the earth's surface, I doubted not that I might one day, bytaking a long voyage, see with my own eyes the little fields, houses,and trees, the diminutivepeople,thetiny cows,sheep,and birds ofthe 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 ICharlotteBronteElecBookClassics
Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë ElecBook Classics 29 Bessie had been down into the kitchen, and she brought up with her a tart on a certain brightly painted china plate, whose bird of paradise, nestling in a wreath of convolvuli and rosebuds, had been wont to stir in me a most enthusiastic sense of admiration; and which plate I had often petitioned to be allowed to take in my hand in order to 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
30JaneEyreturned over its leaves, and sought in its marvellous pictures thecharm I had, till now, never failed to findall was eerie anddreary; the giants were gaunt goblins, the pigmies malevolent andfearful imps, Gulliver a most desolate wanderer in most dread anddangerous regions. I closed the book, which I dared no longerperuse, and put it on the table, beside the untasted tart.Bessie had now finished dusting and tidying the room, andhaving washed her hands, she opened a certain little drawer, fullof splendid shreds of silk and satin, and began making a newbonnet for Georgiana's doll. Meantime she sang: her song was-"In thedays when we went gipsyingA long time ago."I had often heard the song before, and always with livelydelight; for Bessie had a sweet voice,at least, I thought so. Butnow, though her voice was still sweet, I found in its melody anindescribable sadness. Sometimes, preoccupied with her work,she sang the refrain very low, very lingeringly; “"A long time ago"came out like the saddest cadence of a funeral hymn. She passedinto another ballad, this time a really doleful one."My feet they are sore, and my limbs they are weary;Long is the way,and the mountains are wild;Soon will the twilight close moonless and drearyOverthepathofthepoororphanchild.Why did they send me so far and solonely,Up where the moors spread and grey rocks are piled?CharlotteBronteElecBookClassics
Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë ElecBook Classics 30 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 untasted tart. Bessie had now finished dusting and tidying the room, and having washed her hands, she opened a certain little drawer, full of splendid shreds of silk and satin, and began making a new bonnet for Georgiana’s doll. Meantime she sang: her song was— “In the days when we went gipsying, A long time ago.” I had often heard the song before, and always with lively delight; for Bessie had a sweet voice,—at least, I thought so. But now, though her voice was still sweet, I found in its melody an indescribable sadness. Sometimes, preoccupied with her work, she sang the refrain very low, very lingeringly; “A long time ago” came out like the saddest cadence of a funeral hymn. She passed into another ballad, this time a really doleful one. “My feet they are sore, and my limbs they are weary; Long is the way, and the mountains are wild; Soon will the twilight close moonless and dreary Over the path of the poor orphan child. Why did they send me so far and so lonely, Up where the moors spread and grey rocks are piled?
31JaneEyreMen are hard-hearted,and kind angels onlyWatcho'erthestepsofapoororphanchild.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 thepoor orphan child.Ev'n should I fall o'er thebroken bridge passing,Orstrayinthemarshes,byfalselightsbeguiled.Still will my Father, with promise and blessing,Take to His bosom the poor orphan child.Thereisathoughtthatforstrengthshould avail me,Though both of shelterand 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. Shemight as well have said to the fire, "don't burn!" but how could shedivine the morbid suffering to whichI was a prey? In the course ofthe 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:yournameis Jane,isitnot?""Yes, sir, Jane Eyre.""Well, you have been crying, Miss Jane Eyre; can you tell meElecBookClassicsCharlotte Bronte
Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë ElecBook Classics 31 Men are hard-hearted, and kind angels only Watch o’er the steps of a poor orphan child. 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, is it not?” “Yes, sir, Jane Eyre.” “Well, you have been crying, Miss Jane Eyre; can you tell me
32Jane Eyrewhat about? Have you any pain?""No,sir.""Oh! I daresay she is crying because she could not go out withMissis in the carriage,"interposed Bessie."Surely not! why, she is too old for such pettishness."Ithought so too; and my self-esteem being wounded by thefalsecharge, I answered promptly,"Inever cried for such a thing inmylife:I hate going out in the carriage.Icrybecause I am miserable.""Ohfie, Miss!"saidBessie.The good apothecary appeared a little puzzled. I was standingbefore him; he fixed his eyes on me very steadily: his eyes weresmall and grey;, not very bright, but I dare say I should think themshrewd now: he had a hard-featured yet good-natured lookingface.Havingconsidered meatleisure,hesaid-"Whatmadeyou ill yesterday?""She had a fall," said Bessie, again putting in her word."Fall! why, that is like a baby again! Can't she manage to walkat her age? She must be eight or nine years old.""I was knocked down,"was the blunt explanation, jerked out ofme by another pang of mortified pride; “but that did not make meill," I added; while Mr. Lloyd helped himself to a pinch of snuff.As he was returning the box to his waistcoat pocket, a loud bellrang 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 tillyoucomeback."Bessie would rather have stayed, but she was obliged to go,because punctuality at meals was rigidly enforced at GatesheadHall."The fall did not make you ill; what did, then?"pursued Mr.Charlotte BronteElecBookClassics
Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë ElecBook Classics 32 what about? Have you any pain?” “No, sir.” “Oh! I daresay she is crying because she could not go out with Missis in the carriage,” interposed Bessie. “Surely not! why, she is too old for such pettishness.” I thought so too; and my self-esteem being wounded by the false charge, I answered promptly, “I never cried for such a thing in my life: I hate going out in the carriage. I cry because I am miserable.” “Oh fie, Miss!” said Bessie. The good apothecary appeared a little puzzled. I was standing before him; he fixed his eyes on me very steadily: his eyes were small and grey; not very bright, but I dare say I should think them shrewd now: he had a hard-featured yet good-natured looking face. Having considered me at leisure, he said— “What made you ill yesterday?” “She had a fall,” said Bessie, again putting in her word. “Fall! why, that is like a baby again! Can’t she manage to walk at her age? She must be eight or nine years old.” “I was knocked down,” was the blunt explanation, jerked out of me by another pang of mortified pride; “but that did not 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