Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte Deluxe Edition Chapter 8.

Ere the half hour ended, five o'clock struck; school was dismissed,
and all were gone into the refectory to tea. I now ventured to
descend: it was deep dusk; I retired into a corner and sat down on
the floor. The spell by which I had been so far supported began
to dissolve; reaction took place, and soon, so overwhelming was the
grief that seized me, I sank prostrate with my face to the ground.

Now I wept: Helen Burns was not here; nothing sustained me; left
to myself I abandoned myself, and my tears watered the boards. I
had meant to be so good, and to do so much at Lowood: to make so
many friends, to earn respect and win affection. 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: many, I am sure, pity you much."
"How can they pity me after what Mr. Brocklehurst has said?"

"Mr. Brocklehurst is not a god: nor is he even a great and admired
man: he is little liked here; he never took steps to make himself
liked. Had he treated you as an especial favourite, you would
have found enemies, declared or covert, all around you; as it is,
the greater number would offer you sympathy if they dared. Teachers
and pupils may look coldly on you for a day or two, but friendly
feelings are concealed in their hearts; and if you persevere in
doing well, these feelings will ere long appear so much the more
evidently for their temporary suppression. Besides, Jane"she paused.

"Well, Helen?" said I, putting my hand into hers: she chafed my
fingers gently to warm them, and went on "If all the world hated you,
and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved you,
and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends." "No;
I know I should think well of myself; but that is not enough: if others
don't love me I would rather die than liveI cannot bear to be solitary
and hated, Helen. Look here; to gain some real affection from you,
or Miss Temple, or any other whom I truly love, I would willingly
submit to have the bone of my arm broken, or to let a bull toss me, or
to stand behind a kicking horse, and let it dash its hoof at my chest"

"Hush, Jane! you think too much of the love of human beings; you
are too impulsive, too vehement; the sovereign hand that created
your frame, and put life into it, has provided you with other
resources than your feeble self, or than creatures feeble as you.
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."
We went; following the superintendent's guidance, we had to thread
some intricate passages, and mount a staircase before we reached
her apartment; it contained a good fire, and looked cheerful. Miss
Temple told Helen Burns to be seated in a low arm chair on one side
of the hearth, and herself taking another, she called me to her side.

"Is it all over?" she asked, looking down at my face. "Have you
cried your grief away?" "I am afraid I never shall do that." "Why?"
"Because I have been wrongly accused; and you, ma'am, and everybody
else, will now think me wicked." "We shall think you what you prove
yourself to be, my child. Continue to act as a good girl, and you will
satisfy us." "Shall I, Miss Temple?" "You will," said she, passing her
arm round me. "And now tell me who is the lady whom Mr. Brocklehurst
called your benefactress?" "Mrs. Reed, my uncle's wife. My uncle is dead,
and he left me to her care." "Did she not, then, adopt you of her own
accord?" "No, ma'am; she was sorry to have to do it: but my uncle, as
I have often heard the servants say, got her to promise before he
died that she would always keep me."

"Well now, Jane, you know, or at least I will tell you, that when
a criminal is accused, he is always allowed to speak in his own
defence. You have been charged with 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, her clustered and shining curls, and beaming dark
eyes), she proceeded to address Helen Burns. "How are you tonight,
Helen? Have you coughed much to day?" "Not quite so much, I think,
ma'am." "And the pain in your chest?" "It is a little better."


Miss Temple got up, took her hand and examined her pulse; then she
returned to her own seat: as she resumed it, I heard her sigh low. She was
pensive a few minutes, then rousing herself, she said cheerfully, "But you
two are my visitors to night; I must treat you as such." She rang her bell.

"Barbara," she said to the servant who answered it, "I have not yet had
tea; bring the tray and place cups for these two young ladies." And a tray
was soon brought. How pretty, to my eyes, did the china cups and bright
teapot look, placed on the little round table near the fire! How fragrant
was the steam of the beverage, and the scent of the toast! Of which,
however, I, to my dismay (for I was beginning to be hungry) discerned only
a very small portion: Miss Temple discerned it too.



"Barbara," said she, "can you not bring a little more bread and butter?
There is not enough for three." Barbara went out: she returned soon
"Madam, Mrs. Harden says she has sent up the usual quantity." Mrs.
Harden, be it observed, was the house keeper: 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 feeling now:
but as to Helen Burns, I was struck with wonder.


The refreshing meal, the brilliant fire, the presence and kindness
of her beloved instructress, or, perhaps, more than all these,
something in her own unique mind, had roused her powers within
her. They woke, they kindled: first, they glowed in the bright
tint of her cheek, which till this hour I had never seen but pale
and bloodless; then they shone in the liquid lustre of her eyes,
which had suddenly acquired a beauty more singular than that of
Miss Temple's a beauty neither of fine colour nor long eyelash,
nor pencilled brow, but of meaning, of movement, of radiance.

Then her soul sat on her lips, and language flowed, from what source
I cannot tell. Has a girl of fourteen a heart large enough, vigorous
enough, to hold the swelling spring of pure, full, fervid eloquence?
Such was the characteristic of Helen's discourse on that, to me,
memorable evening; her spirit seemed hastening to live within a
very brief span as much as many live during a protracted existence.


They conversed of things I had never heard of; of nations and times
past; of countries far away; of secrets of nature discovered or
guessed at: they spoke of books: how many they had read! What
stores of knowledge they possessed!

Then they seemed so familiar with French names and French authors:
but my amazement reached its climax when Miss Temple asked Helen
if she sometimes snatched a moment to recall the Latin her father
had taught her, and taking a book from a shelf, bade her read and
construe a page of Virgil; and Helen obeyed, my organ of veneration
expanding at every sounding line. She had scarcely finished ere the bell
announced bedtime! no delay could be admitted; Miss Temple embraced
us both, saying, as she 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, announced that inquiry had
been made into the charges alleged against Jane Eyre, and that she was
most happy to be able to pronounce her completely cleared from every
imputation. The teachers then shook hands with me and kissed me,
and a murmur of pleasure ran through the ranks of my companions.

Thus relieved of a grievous load, I from that hour set to work
afresh, resolved to pioneer my way through every difficulty: I
toiled hard, and my success was proportionate to my efforts; my
memory, not naturally tenacious, improved with practice; exercise
sharpened my wits; in a few weeks I was promoted to a higher class;
in less than two months I was allowed to commence French and drawing.
I learned the first two tenses of the verb ETRE, and sketched my
first cottage (whose walls, by the bye, outrivalled in slope those of
the leaning tower of Pisa), on the same day.

That night, on going to bed, I forgot to prepare in imagination the
Barmecide supper of hot roast potatoes, or white bread and new milk,
with which I was wont to amuse my inward cravings: I feasted instead
on the spectacle of ideal drawings, which I saw in the dark; all the work
of my own hands: freely pencilled houses and trees, picturesque rocks
andr uins, Cuyp like groups of cattle, sweet paintings of butterflies
hovering over unblown roses, of birds picking at ripe cherries, of
wren's nests enclosing pearl like eggs, wreathed about with young
ivy sprays. I examined, too, in thought, the possibility of
my ever being able to translate currently a certain little French
story which Madame Pierrot had that day shown me; nor was that
problem solved to my satisfaction ere I fell sweetly asleep.


Well has Solomon said "Better is a dinner of herbs where love
is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith." I would not now have
exchanged Lowood with all its privations for Gateshead and its luxuries.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte Deluxe Edition Chapter 9.>