Jane Eyre. An Autobiography / Джейн Эйр. Автобиография. Шарлотта Бронте

Julia Severn,” replied Miss Temple, very quietly.

      “Julia Severn, ma’am! And why has she, or any other, curled hair? Why, in violation of every principle of this house, does she dare to wear her hair one mass of curls – here in an evangelical, charitable establishment?”

      “Julia’s hair curls naturally,” returned Miss Temple, still more quietly.

      “Naturally! I wish these girls to be the children of Grace. I have again and again said that I desire the hair to be arranged modestly and plainly. Miss Temple, that girl’s hair must be cut off entirely; I will send a barber to-morrow.”

      Miss Temple passed her handkerchief over her lips, as if to wipe away the smile.

      Mr. Brocklehurst was here interrupted: three other visitors, ladies, now entered the room. The two younger of the trio (fine girls of sixteen and seventeen) had beaver hats, then in fashion, decorated with ostrich plumes; the elder lady was enveloped in a costly velvet shawl, trimmed with ermine, and she wore a false front of French curls.

      These ladies were received by Miss Temple with respect, as Mrs. and the Misses Brocklehurst, and conducted to seats of honour at the top of the room. They had come in the carriage with their relative, and had been inspecting the room upstairs, and they now addressed their remarks and reproofs to Miss Smith.

      So far, I had carefully secured my personal safety. To this end, I had sat well back on the form, and held my slate in such a manner as to conceal my face; but my slate somehow slipped from my hand, and directly drawn every eye upon me; I knew it was all over now, I was ready for the worst. It came.

      “A careless girl!” said Mr. Brocklehurst, and immediately after – “It is the new pupil, I believe.” And added, “I must not forget I have a word to say respecting her.” Then aloud: “Let the child who broke her slate come forward!”

      I was paralysed: but the two great girls set me on my legs and pushed me towards the judge, and then Miss Temple gently whispered —

      “Don’t be afraid, Jane, I saw it was an accident; you shall not be punished.”

      “Fetch that stool,” said Mr. Brocklehurst, pointing to a very high one: it was brought.

      “Place the child upon it.”

      And I was placed there, by whom I don’t know: I was only aware that they had lifted me up to the height of Mr. Brocklehurst’s nose.

      “Ladies,” said he, turning to his family, “Miss Temple, teachers, and children, you all see this girl?”

      Of course they did.

      “You see she is yet young; God has graciously given her the shape that He has given to all of us. Who would think that the Evil One had already found a servant and agent in her? Yet such is the case.”

      “My dear children,” continued the clergyman, with pathos, “this is a sad occasion: You must be on your guard against her; if necessary, avoid her company, exclude her from your sports, and shut her out from your conversation. Teachers, you must watch her: keep your eyes on her movements, weigh well her words, punish her body to save her soul: for this girl is – a liar!”

      “This I learned from her benefactress; from the pious and charitable lady who adopted her in her orphan state, reared her as her own daughter, and whose kindness, whose generosity the unhappy girl repaid by an ingratitude so bad, so dreadful, that at last her excellent patroness was obliged to separate her from her own young ones: she has sent her here to be healed.”

      Turning at the door, my judge said —

      “Let her stand half-an-hour longer on that stool, and let no one speak to her during the remainder of the day.”

      There was I, who had said I could not bear the shame of standing on my feet in the middle of the room, was now exposed to general view on a pedestal of shame. Helen Burns came up and passed me: in passing, she lifted her eyes and smiled at me. I mastered the rising hysteria, lifted up my head, and took a firm stand on the stool. What a smile! I remember it now: it was like a reflection of an angel.

      Chapter VIII

      Before the half-hour ended, five o’clock struck; school was finished, and all were gone into the refectory to tea. I now dared to descend: I went into a corner and sat down on the floor. Now I wept: Helen Burns was not here. I had wanted to be so good at Lowood: to make so many friends, to earn respect and win affection. Already I had made visible progress; but now, here I lay again crushed and trodden on; and could I ever rise?

      “Never,” I thought; and I wished to die. Some one approached: I started up – again Helen Burns was near me; she brought my coffee and bread.

      “Come, eat something,” she said; but I put both away from me. I continued to weep aloud. Helen sat down on the ground near me, and remained silent. 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: he is little liked here. Had he treated you as an especial favourite, you would have found enemies, all around you.”

      I was silent; Helen had calmed me.

      Resting my head on her shoulder, I put my arms round her waist; she drew me to her, and we stayed silent. In the moonlight we saw the approaching figure, which we at once recognized 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 mounted a staircase before we reached Miss Temple’s room; it contained a good fire, and looked cheerful.

      “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.”

      I told her all the story of my sad childhood. In the course of the tale I had mentioned Mr. Lloyd who came to see me after the fit: for I never forgot the frightful episode of the red-room.

      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 supports your statement, you shall be publicly cleared; to me, Jane, you are clear now.”

      She kissed me, and still keeping me at her side, she addressed Helen Burns.

      “How are you to-night, 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