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Recording by Elizabeth Klett Jane Eyre by Charlotte BRONTË Chapter Four
From my discourse with Mr. Lloyd, and from the above reported conference
between Bessie and Abbot, I gathered enough of hope to suffice as a
motive for wishing to get well: a change seemed near,--I desired and
waited it in silence.
It tarried, however: days and weeks passed: I had
regained my normal state of health, but no new allusion was made to the
subject over which I brooded.
Mrs. Reed surveyed me at times with a severe eye, but seldom addressed me: since
my illness, she had drawn a more marked line of separation than ever between
me and her own children; appointing me a small closet to sleep in by
myself, condemning me to take my meals alone, and pass all my time in the
nursery, while my cousins were constantly in the drawing-room.
Not a hint, however, did she drop about sending me to school: still I felt an
instinctive certainty that she would not long endure me under the same
roof with her; for her glance, now more than ever, when turned on
me, expressed an insuperable and rooted aversion.
Eliza and Georgiana, evidently acting according to orders, spoke to me as
little as possible: John thrust his tongue in his cheek whenever he saw
me, and once attempted chastisement; but as I instantly turned against
him, roused by the same sentiment of deep ire and desperate revolt which
had stirred my corruption before, he thought it better to desist, and ran
from me tittering execrations, and vowing I had burst his nose.
I had indeed levelled at that prominent feature
as hard a blow as my knuckles could inflict; and when I saw that either
that or my look daunted him, I had the greatest inclination to follow up
my advantage to 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."
Mrs. Reed soon rallied her spirits: she shook me most soundly, she boxed
both my ears, and then left me without a word.
Bessie supplied the hiatus by a homily of an hour's length, in
which she proved beyond a doubt that I was the most wicked and abandoned
child ever reared under a roof.
I half believed her; for I felt indeed only bad feelings surging
in my breast.
November, December, and half of January passed away.
Christmas and the New Year had been celebrated at Gateshead
with the usual festive cheer; presents had been interchanged, dinners and
evening parties given.
From every enjoyment I was, of course, excluded:
my share of the gaiety consisted in witnessing the daily apparelling
of Eliza and Georgiana, and seeing them descend to the drawing-room, dressed
out in thin muslin frocks and scarlet sashes, with hair elaborately
ringletted; and afterwards, in listening to the sound of the
piano or the harp played below, to the passing to and fro of the butler
and footman, to the jingling of glass and china as refreshments
were handed, to the broken hum of conversation as the drawing-room door
opened and closed.
When tired of this occupation, I would retire from
the stairhead to the solitary and silent nursery: there, though
somewhat sad, I was not miserable.
To speak truth, I had not the least wish to go into company,
for in company I was very rarely noticed; and if Bessie had but been kind
and companionable, I should have deemed it a treat to spend the evenings
quietly with her, instead of passing them under the formidable eye of
Mrs. Reed, in a room full of ladies and gentlemen.
But Bessie, as soon as she had dressed her young ladies, used
to take herself off to the lively regions of the kitchen and housekeeper's
room, generally bearing the candle along with her.
I then sat with my doll on my knee till the fire got low, 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, and good, clear complexion; but she
had a capricious and hasty temper, and indifferent ideas of principle or
justice: still, such as she was, I preferred her to any one else at
Gateshead Hall.
It was the fifteenth of January, about nine o'clock in the morning:
Bessie was gone down to breakfast; my cousins had not yet been summoned
to their mama; Eliza was putting on her bonnet and warm garden-coat to go
and feed her poultry, an occupation of which she was fond: and not less
so of selling the eggs to the housekeeper and hoarding up the money she
thus obtained.
She had a turn for traffic, and a marked propensity for
saving; shown not only in the vending of eggs and chickens, but also in
driving hard bargains with the gardener about flower-roots, seeds, and
slips of plants; that functionary having orders from Mrs. Reed to buy of
his young lady all the products of her parterre she wished to sell: and
Eliza would have sold the hair off her head if she could have made a
handsome profit thereby.
As to her money, she first secreted it in odd
corners, wrapped in a rag or an old curl-paper; but some of these hoards
having been discovered by the housemaid, Eliza, fearful of one day losing
her valued treasure, consented to intrust it to her mother, at a usurious
rate of interest--fifty or sixty per cent.; which interest she exacted
every quarter, keeping her accounts in a little book with anxious
accuracy.
Georgiana sat on a high stool, dressing her hair at the glass, and
interweaving her curls with artificial flowers and faded feathers, of
which she had found a store in a drawer in the attic.
I was making my bed, having received strict orders from Bessie
to get it arranged before she returned (for Bessie now frequently employed
me as a sort of under- nurserymaid, to tidy the room, dust the chairs,
&c.).
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