Шарлотта Бронте – Jane Eyre. An Autobiography / Джейн Эйр. Автобиография (страница 4)
“That proves you have a wicked heart; and you must pray to God to change it.”
“Mr. Brocklehurst, if you admit her into Lowood school, I will be glad if the superintendent and the teachers kept a strict eye on her, and, above all, control her tendency to deceit.”
This accusation cut me to the heart; I hastily wiped away some tears.
“Deceit is, indeed, a sad fault in a child,” said Mr. Brocklehurst; “she shall, however, be watched, Mrs. Reed. I will speak to Miss Temple and the teachers.”
“Quite right, sir. I may then depend upon this child being received as a pupil at Lowood?”
“Madam, you may: and I hope she will show herself grateful for the privilege of her election.”
“I will send her, then, as soon as possible, Mr. Brocklehurst.”
“Now I wish you good morning, madam. I shall return to Brocklehurst Hall in the course of a week or two. I shall send Miss Temple notice that she is to expect a new girl, so that there will be no difficulty about receiving her. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Brocklehurst; remember me to Mrs. and Miss Brocklehurst.”
“I will, madam. Little girl, here is a book called the ’Child’s Guide,’ read it with prayer.”
With these words Mr. Brocklehurst put into my hand a thin pamphlet, and left.
Mrs. Reed and I were left alone: some minutes passed in silence; she was sewing, I was watching her.
Mrs. Reed looked up from her work; her eye settled on mine.
“Go out of the room; return to the nursery,” was her order. My look or something else seemed offensive to her, for she spoke with extreme irritation. I got up, went to the door; then I came back again, close up to her.
“I am not deceitful: if I were, I should say I loved you; but I declare I do not love you: I dislike you the worst of anybody in the world except John Reed; and this book, which is about the liar, you may give to Georgiana, for it is she who tells lies, and not I.”
Mrs. Reed’s hands still lay on her work inactive: her eye of ice continued to dwell on mine.
“What more have you to say?” she asked.
I continued —
“I am glad you are no relation of mine: I will never call you aunt again as long as I live. I will never come to see you when I am grown up; and if any one asks me how I liked you, and how you treated me, I will say the very thought of you makes me sick[14].”
“How dare you say that, Jane Eyre?”
“How dare I, Mrs. Reed? How dare I? Because it is the
Before I had finished this reply I felt the strangest sense of freedom, of triumph. Mrs. Reed looked frightened; her work had slipped from her knee; she was lifting up her hands, 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, was a liar; 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.”
“Deceit is not my fault!” I cried out in a savage, high voice.
“But you are passionate, Jane: and now return to the nursery – there’s a dear[15] – and lie down a little.”
“I am not your dear; I cannot lie down: send me to school soon, Mrs. Reed, for I hate to live here.”
“I will indeed send her to school soon,” murmured Mrs. Reed; and gathering up her work, she abruptly left the room.
I was left there alone – winner of the field. It was the hardest battle I had fought, and the first victory I had gained.
Outside the house I looked into an empty field where no sheep were feeding, where the short grass was nipped. It was a very grey day; I stood, a wretched child, 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; but I did not stir.
“You naughty little thing!” she said walking up the path. “Why don’t you come when you are called?”
Bessie’s presence seemed cheerful; I put my two arms round her and said, “Come, Bessie! Don’t scold.”
“You are a strange child, Miss Jane,” she said, as she looked down at me; “and you are going to school, I suppose?”
I nodded.
“And won’t you be sorry to leave poor Bessie?”
“What does Bessie care for me? She is always scolding me.”
“Because you’re such a frightened, shy little thing. You should be bolder.”
“What! To get more knocks?”
“Nonsense! Now, come in, and I’ve some good news for you.”
“I don’t think you have, Bessie.”
“Child! What do you mean? Well, but Missis and the young ladies and Master John are going out to tea this afternoon, and you shall have tea 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 wants 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.”
“I promise, Miss; I believe I am fonder of you than of all the others.”
“You don’t show it.”
“You little sharp thing[16]! And so you’re glad to leave me?”
“Not at all, Bessie; indeed, just now I’m rather sorry.”
“Just now! And rather! I think if I asked you for a kiss you wouldn’t give it me: you’d say you’d
“I’ll kiss you: bend your head down.” Bessie stooped; we mutually embraced, and I followed her into the house quite comforted. That afternoon passed in peace and harmony; and in the evening Bessie told me some of her best stories, and sang me some of her sweetest songs. Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine.
Chapter V
Five o’clock had hardly struck on the morning of the 19th of January, when Bessie brought a candle into my room and found me already up and nearly dressed. I was to leave Gateshead that day by a coach at six a.m. Bessie was the only person yet risen; she had lit a fire in the nursery, where she made my breakfast, which I couldn’t eat. When Bessie helped me on with my coat and bonnet, she and I left the nursery. As we passed Mrs. Reed’s bedroom, she said, “Will you go in and bid Missis good-bye?”
“No, Bessie. Good-bye to Gateshead!” cried I, as we passed through the hall and went out at the front door.
There was a light in the porter’s lodge: my trunk, which had been carried down the evening before, stood at the door. Shortly after the hour had struck six, we heard the coming coach.
There it was at the gates with its four horses and its top filled with passengers; I was taken from Bessie’s neck, to which I clung with kisses.
“Be sure and take good care of her[17],” cried she to the guard, as he lifted me into the inside.
We passed through several towns, and in one, a very large one, the coach stopped; the horses were taken out, and the passengers alighted to dine. I was carried into an inn, where the guard wanted me to have some dinner; but, as I had no appetite, he left me in an immense room with a fireplace.
The afternoon came on wet and somewhat misty: I heard a wild wind rushing amongst trees. Lulled by the sound, I at last dropped asleep; but I had not long slept when the coach stopped; 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 and my trunk was handed down.
I was stiff with long sitting, and I looked about me. Rain, wind, and darkness filled the air; nevertheless, I saw a wall before me and a door open in it; through this door I passed with my new guide. There was now visible a house or houses – with many windows, and lights burning in some; we went up a broad path, and were admitted at a door; then the servant led me into a room with a fire, where she left me alone.
I stood and warmed my numbed fingers over the blaze when the door opened, and two women entered. The first was a tall lady with dark hair and dark eyes.
“The child is very young to be sent alone,” said she, putting her candle down on the table. She looked at me attentively for a minute or two, then added —