33Jane EyreLloyd whenBessiewas gone."I was shut up in a room where there is a ghost till after dark."I sawMr.Lloyd smileand frownatthe sametime."Ghost! What, you are a baby after all! You are afraid ofghosts?""Of Mr. Reed's ghost I am: he died in that room, and was laidout there. Neither Bessie nor any one else will go into it at night, ifthey can help it; and it was cruel to shut me up alone without acandle,so cruel that I think I shall never forget it.""Nonsense! And is it that makes you so miserable? Are youafraid nowindaylight?""No: but night will come again before long: and besides,I amunhappy,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 difficultit wasto frame any answer! Children can feel, buttheycannotanalyse their feelings; and if the analysis is partially effected inthought, theyknow not how to express the result of the process inwords.Fearful, however,of losing this first and only opportunityof relieving my grief by imparting it, I, after a disturbed pause,contrived to frame a meagre, though, as far as it went, trueresponse."For one thing, I have no father or mother, brothers or sisters.""You have a kind aunt and cousins."Again I paused; then bunglingly enounced“But John Reed knocked me down, and my aunt shut me up inthered-room."Mr.Lloyd a second timeproduced his snuff-box."Don't you think Gateshead Hall a very beautiful house?"askedCharlotte BronteElecBookClassics
Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë ElecBook Classics 33 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 partially effected in thought, they know not how to express the result of the process in words. Fearful, however, of losing this first and only opportunity of relieving my grief by imparting it, I, after a disturbed pause, contrived to frame a meagre, though, as far as it went, true response. “For one thing, I have no father or mother, brothers or sisters.” “You have a kind aunt and cousins.” Again I paused; then bunglingly enounced— “But John Reed knocked me down, and my aunt shut me up in the red-room.” Mr. Lloyd a second time produced his snuff-box. “Don’t you think Gateshead Hall a very beautiful house?” asked
34Jane Eyrehe."Are you not very thankful to have such a fine place to live at?""It is not my house, sir; and Abbot says I have less right to beherethanaservant.""Pooh! you can't be silly enough to wish to leave such asplendid place?"“If I had anywhere else to go, I should be glad to leave it; but Ican neverget awayfrom Gateshead till I ama woman.""Perhaps you may-who knows? Have you any relationsbesidesMrs.Reed?""I think not, sir.""None belonging to your father?""I don't know. I asked Aunt Reed once, and she said possibly Imight have some poor, low relations called Eyre, but she knewnothingaboutthem.""If you had such, would you like to go to them?"I reflected.Poverty looks grim to grown people; still more so tochildren: they have not much idea of industrious, working,respectablepoverty;theythinkof theword onlyas connectedwithragged clothes, scanty food, fireless grates, rude manners, anddebasing vices: poverty for me was synonymous with degradation.“No;I should not like tobelong topoor people,"was myreply."Notevenif theywerekind toyou?"I shook my head: I could not see how poor people had themeans of being kind; and then to learn to speak like them, to adopttheir manners, to be uneducated, to grow up like one of the poorwomen I saw sometimes nursing their children or washing theirclothes at the cottage doors of the village of Gateshead: no, I wasnot heroic enough to purchase liberty at the price of caste.“But are your relatives so very poor? Are they workingCharlotte BronteElecBookClassics
Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë ElecBook Classics 34 he. “Are you not very thankful to have such a fine place to live at?” “It is not my house, sir; and Abbot says I have less right to be here than a servant.” “Pooh! you can’t be silly enough to wish to leave such a splendid place?” “If I had anywhere else to go, I should be glad to leave it; but I can never get away from Gateshead till I am a woman.” “Perhaps you may—who knows? Have you any relations besides Mrs. Reed?” “I think not, sir.” “None belonging to your father?” “I don’t know. I asked Aunt Reed once, and she said possibly I might have some poor, low relations called Eyre, but she knew 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
35Jane Eyrepeople?""I cannot tell; Aunt.Reed says if I have any, they must be abeggarly set:I should not liketogo a begging."Would youliketogotoschool?"Again I reflected: I scarcely knew what school was: Bessiesometimes spoke of it as a place where young ladies sat in thestocks, wore backboards, and were expected to be exceedinglygenteel and precise: John Reed hated his school, and abused hismaster; but John Reed's tastes were no rule for mine, and ifBessie's accounts of school-discipline (gathered from the youngladiesof afamilywhereshehad lived before comingto Gateshead)were somewhat appalling,her details of certain accomplishmentsattained by these same young ladies were, I thought, equallyattractive.She boasted of beautiful paintings of landscapes andflowers by them executed; of songs they could sing and pieces theycould play, of purses they could net, of French books they couldtranslate; till my spirit was moved to emulation as I listened.Besides, school would be a complete change: it implied a longjourney,an entire separation from Gateshead, an entrance into anew life."I should indeed like to go to school," was the audibleconclusionofmymusings."Well, well!who knows what may happen?" said Mr.Lloyd, ashe got up."The child ought to have change of air and scene," headded, speaking to himself;“"nerves not in a good state."Bessie now returned; at the same moment the carriage washeardrollingupthegravel-walk"Is that your mistress, nurse?" asked Mr.Lloyd.“I should liketospeaktoherbeforeIgo."Charlotte BronteElecBookClassics
Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë ElecBook Classics 35 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 were no rule for mine, and if Bessie’s accounts of school-discipline (gathered from the young ladies of a family where she had lived before coming to Gateshead) were somewhat appalling, her details of certain accomplishments attained by these same young ladies were, I thought, equally attractive. She boasted of beautiful paintings of landscapes and flowers by them executed; of songs they could sing and pieces they could play, of purses they could net, of French books they could translate; till my spirit was moved to emulation as I listened. Besides, school would be a complete change: it implied a long journey, an entire separation from Gateshead, an entrance into a new life. “I should indeed like to go to school,” was the audible conclusion of my musings. “Well, well! who knows what may happen?” said Mr. Lloyd, as he got up. “The child ought to have change of air and scene,” he added, speaking to himself; “nerves not in a good state.” Bessie now returned; at the same moment the carriage was heard rolling up the gravel-walk. “Is that your mistress, nurse?” asked Mr. Lloyd. “I should like to speak to her before I go
36Jane EyreBessieinvitedhimtowalkintothebreakfast-room,andledtheway out. In the interview which followed between him and Mrs.Reed,I presume,from after-occurrences,that the apothecaryventured to recommend my being sent to school; and therecommendation was no doubt readily enough adopted; for asAbbot said, in discussing the subject with Bessie when both satsewing in the nursery one night, after I was in bed, and, as theythought, asleep,"Missis was, she dared say, glad enough to get ridof such a tiresome, ill-conditioned child, who always looked as ifshe were watching everybody, and scheming plots underhand."Abbot, I think, gave me credit for being a sort of infantine GuyFawkes.On that same occasion I learned, for the first time,from MissAbbot's communications to Bessie, that myfather had been a poorclergyman; that my mother had married him against the wishes ofher friends, who considered the match beneath her; that mygrandfather Reed was so irritated at her disobedience, he cut heroff without a shilling; that after my mother and father had beenmarried a year, the latter caught the typhus fever while visitingamong the poor of a large manufacturing town where his curacywas situated, and where that disease was thenprevalent:thatmymother took theinfection from him, and both died within a monthofeach other.Bessie, when she heard this narrative, sighed and said, “"PoorMiss Janeistobepitied,too, Abbot.""Yes,"responded Abbot;“if she were a nice, pretty child, onemight compassionate her forlornness; but one really cannot careforsuchalittletoadasthat.""Not a great deal, to be sure," agreed Bessie: “"at any rate, aCharlotte BronteElecBookClassics
Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë ElecBook Classics 36 Bessie invited him to walk into the breakfast-room, and led the way out. In the interview which followed between him and Mrs. Reed, I presume, from after-occurrences, that the apothecary ventured to recommend my being sent to school; and the recommendation was no doubt readily enough adopted; for as Abbot said, in discussing the subject with Bessie when both sat sewing in the nursery one night, after I was in bed, and, as they thought, 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
37Jane Eyrebeauty likeMissGeorgiana wouldbemoremoving inthesamecondition.""Yes,I doat on Miss Georgiana!" cried the fervent Abbot.“Little darling!with her long curls and her blue eyes,and such asweet colour as she has; just as if she were painted!Bessie, IcouldfancyaWelshrabbitforsupper."“So could I-with a roast onion.Come,we'll go down."Theywent.Charlotte BronteElecBookClassics
Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë ElecBook Classics 37 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.” “So could I—with a roast onion. Come, we’ll go down.” They went