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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。
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! ing; 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 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 bon 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?
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;
fort 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。”
“e; 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。 e 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