either; it comprised an irksome struggle with difficulties in

habituating myself to new rules and unwonted tasks. The fear of

failure in these points harassed me worse than the physical

hardships of my lot; though these were no trifles.

   During January, February, and part of March, the deep snows, and,

after their melting, the almost impassable roads, prevented our

stirring beyond the garden walls, except to go to church; but within

these limits we had to pass an hour every day in the open air. Our

clothing was insufficient to protect us from the severe cold: we had

no boots, the snow got into our shoes and melted there: our ungloved

hands became numbed and covered with chilblains, as were our feet: I

remember well the distracting irritation I endured from this cause

every evening, when my feet inflamed; and the torture of thrusting the

swelled, raw, and stiff toes into my shoes in the morning. Then the

scanty supply of food was distressing: with the keen appetites of

growing children, we had scarcely sufficient to keep alive a

delicate invalid. From this deficiency of nourishment resulted an

abuse, which pressed hardly on the younger pupils: whenever the

famished great girls had an opportunity, they would coax or menace the

little ones out of their portion. Many a time I have shared between

two claimants the precious morsel of brown bread distributed at

teatime; and after relinquishing to a third half the contents of my

mug of coffee, I have swallowed the remainder with an accompaniment of

secret tears, forced from me by the exigency of hunger.

   Sundays were dreary days in that wintry season. We had to walk

two miles to Brocklebridge Church, where our patron officiated. We set

out cold, we arrived at church colder: during the morning service we

became almost paralysed. It was too far to return to dinner, and an

allowance of cold meat and bread, in the same penurious proportion

observed in our ordinary meals, was served round between the services.

   At the close of the afternoon service we returned by an exposed and

hilly road, where the bitter winter wind, blowing over a range of

snowy summits to the north, almost flayed the skin from our faces.

   I can remember Miss Temple walking lightly and rapidly along our

drooping line, her plaid cloak, which the frosty wind fluttered,

gathered close about her, and encouraging us, by precept and

example, to keep up our spirits, and march forward, as she said, 'like

stalwart soldiers.' The other teachers, poor things, were generally

themselves too much dejected to attempt the task of cheering others.

   How we longed for the light and heat of a blazing fire when we

got back! But, to the little ones at least, this was denied: each

hearth in the schoolroom was immediately surrounded by a double row of

great girls, and behind them the younger children crouched in

groups, wrapping their starved arms in their pinafores.

   A little solace came at tea-time, in the shape of a double ration

of bread- a whole, instead of a half, slice- with the delicious

addition of a thin scrape of butter: it was the hebdomadal treat to

which we all looked forward from Sabbath to Sabbath. I generally

contrived to reserve a moiety of this bounteous repast for myself; but

the remainder I was invariably obliged to part with.

   The Sunday evening was spent in repeating, by heart, the Church

Catechism, and the fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters of St.

Matthew; and in listening to a long sermon, read by Miss Miller, whose

irrepressible yawns attested her weariness. A frequent interlude of

these performances was the enactment of the part of Eutychus by some

half-dozen of little girls, who, overpowered with sleep, would fall

down, if not out of the third loft, yet off the fourth form, and be

taken up half dead. The remedy was, to thrust them forward into the

centre of the schoolroom, and oblige them to stand there till the

sermon was finished. Sometimes their feet failed them, and they sank

together in a heap; they were then propped up with the monitors'

high stools.

   I have not yet alluded to the visits of Mr. Brocklehurst; and

indeed that gentleman was from home during the greater part of the

first month after my arrival; perhaps prolonging his stay with his

friend the archdeacon: his absence was a relief to me. I need not

say that I had my own reasons for dreading his coming: but come he did

at last.

   One afternoon (I had then been three weeks at Lowood), as I was

sitting with a slate in my hand, puzzling over a sum in long division,

my eyes, raised in abstraction to the window, caught sight of a figure

just passing: I recognised almost instinctively that gaunt outline;

and when, two minutes after, all the school, teachers included, rose

en masse, it was not necessary for me to look up in order to ascertain

whose entrance they thus greeted. A long stride measured the

schoolroom, and presently beside Miss Temple, who herself had risen,

stood the same black column which had frowned on me so ominously

from the hearthrug of Gateshead. I now glanced sideways at this

piece of architecture. Yes, I was right: it was Mr. Brocklehurst,

buttoned up in a surtout, and looking longer, narrower, and more rigid

than ever.

   I had my own reasons for being dismayed at this apparition; too

well I remembered the perfidious hints given by Mrs. Reed about my

disposition, etc.; the promise pledged by Mr. Brocklehurst to

apprise Miss Temple and the teachers of my vicious nature. All along I

had been dreading the fulfilment of this promise,- I had been

looking out daily for the 'Coming Man,' whose information respecting

my past life and conversation was to brand me as a bad child for ever:

now there he was.

   He stood at Miss Temple's side; he was speaking low in her ear: I

did not doubt he was making disclosures of my villainy; and I

watched her eye with painful anxiety, expecting every moment to see

its dark orb turn on me a glance of repugnance and contempt. I

listened too; and as I happened to be seated quite at the top of the

room, I caught most of what he said: its import relieved me from

immediate apprehension.

   'I suppose, Miss Temple, the thread I bought at Lowton will do;

it struck me that it would be just of the quality for the calico

chemises, and I sorted the needles to match. You may tell Miss Smith

that I forgot to make a memorandum of the darning needles, but she

shall have some papers sent in next week; and she is not, on any

account, to give out more than one at a time to each pupil: if they

have more, they are apt to be careless and lose them. And, O ma'am!

I wish the woollen stockings were better looked to!- when I was here

last, I went into the kitchen-garden and examined the clothes drying

on the line; there was a quantity of black hose in a very bad state of

repair: from the size of the holes in them I was sure they had not

been well mended from time to time.'

   He paused.

   'Your directions shall be attended to, sir,' said Miss Temple.

   'And, ma'am,' he continued, 'the laundress tells me some of the

girls have two clean tuckers in the week: it is too much; the rules

limit them to one.'

   'I think I can explain that circumstance, sir. Agnes and

Catherine Johnstone were invited to take tea with some friends at

Lowton last Thursday, and I gave them leave to put on clean tuckers

for the occasion.'

   Mr. Brocklehurst nodded.

   'Well, for once it may pass; but please not to let the circumstance

occur too often. And there is another thing which surprised me; I

find, in settling accounts with the housekeeper, that a lunch,

consisting of bread and cheese, has twice been served out to the girls

during the past fortnight. How is this? I looked over the regulations,

and I find no such meal as lunch mentioned. Who introduced this

innovation? and by what authority?'

   'I must be responsible for the circumstance, sir,' replied Miss

Temple: 'the breakfast was so ill prepared that the pupils could not

possibly eat it; and I dared not allow them to remain fasting till

dinner-time.'

   'Madam, allow me an instant. You are aware that my plan in bringing

up these girls is, not to accustom them to habits of luxury and

indulgence, but to render them hardy, patient, self-denying. Should

any little accidental disappointment of the appetite occur, such as

the spoiling of a meal, the under or the over dressing of a dish,

the incident ought not to be neutralised by replacing with something

more delicate the comfort lost, thus pampering the body and

obviating the aim of this institution; it ought to be improved to

the spiritual edification of the pupils, by encouraging them to evince

fortitude under the temporary privation. A brief address on those

occasions would not be mistimed, wherein a judicious instructor

would take the opportunity of referring to the sufferings of the

primitive Christians; to the torments of martyrs; to the

exhortations of our blessed Lord Himself, calling upon His disciples

to take up their cross and follow Him; to His warnings that man

shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out

of the mouth of God; to His divine consolations, "If ye suffer

hunger or thirst for My sake, happy are ye." Oh, madam, when you put

bread and cheese, instead of burnt porridge, into these children's

mouths, you may indeed feed their vile bodies, but you little think

how you starve their immortal souls!'

   Mr. Brocklehurst again paused- perhaps overcome by his feelings.

Miss Temple had looked down when he first began to speak to her; but

she now gazed straight before her, and her face, naturally pale as

marble, appeared to be assuming also the coldness and fixity of that

material; especially her mouth, closed as if it would have required

a sculptor's chisel to open it, and her brow settled gradually into

petrified severity.

   Meantime, Mr. Brocklehurst, standing on the hearth with his hands

behind his back, majestically surveyed the whole school. Suddenly

his eye gave a blink, as if it had met something that either dazzled

or shocked its pupil; turning, he said in more rapid accents than he

had hitherto used-

   'Miss Temple, Miss Temple, what- what is that girl with curled

hair? Red hair, ma'am, curled- curled all over?' And extending his

cane he pointed to the awful object, his hand shaking as he did so.

   'It is Julia Severn,' replied Miss Temple, very quietly.

   'Julia Severn, ma'am! And why has she, or any other, curled hair?

Why, in defiance of every precept and principle of this house, does

she conform to the world so openly- here in an evangelical, charitable

establishment- as to wear her hair one mass of curls?'

   'Julia's hair curls naturally,' returned Miss Temple, still more

quietly.

   'Naturally! Yes, but we are not to conform to nature; I wish

these girls to be the children of Grace: and why that abundance? I

have again and again intimated that I desire the hair to be arranged

closely, modestly, plainly. Miss Temple, that girl's hair must be

cut off entirely; I will send a barber tomorrow: and I see others

who have far too much of the excrescence- that tall girl, tell her

to turn round. Tell all the first form to rise up and direct their

faces to the wall.'

   Miss Temple passed her handkerchief over her lips, as if to

smooth away the involuntary smile that curled them; she gave the

order, however, and when the first class could take in what was

required of them, they obeyed. Leaning a little back on my bench, I

could see the looks and grimaces with which they commented on this

manoeuvre: it was a pity Mr. Brocklehurst could not see them too; he

would perhaps have felt that, whatever he might do with the outside of

the cup and platter, the inside was further beyond his interference

than he imagined.

   He scrutinised the reverse of these living medals some five

minutes, then pronounced sentence. These words fell like the knell

of doom-

   'All those top-knots must be cut off.'

   Miss Temple seemed to remonstrate.

   'Madam,' he pursued, 'I have a Master to serve whose kingdom is not

of this world: my mission is to mortify in these girls the lusts of

the flesh; to teach them to clothe themselves with shame-facedness and

sobriety, not with braided hair and costly apparel; and each of the

young persons before us has a string of hair twisted in plaits which

vanity itself might have woven; these, I repeat, must be cut off;

think of the time wasted, of-'

   Mr. Brocklehurst was here interrupted: three other visitors,

ladies, now entered the room. They ought to have come a little

sooner to have heard his lecture on dress, for they were splendidly

attired in velvet, silk, and furs. The two younger of the trio (fine

girls of sixteen and seventeen) had grey beaver hats, then in fashion,

shaded with ostrich plumes, and from under the brim of this graceful

head-dress fell a profusion of light tresses, elaborately curled;

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 deferentially received by Miss Temple, as Mrs.

and the Misses Brocklehurst, and conducted to seats of honour at the

top of the room. It seems they had come in the carriage with their

reverend relative, and had been conducting a rummaging scrutiny of the

room upstairs, while he transacted business with the housekeeper,

questioned the laundress, and lectured the superintendent. They now

proceeded to address divers remarks and reproofs to Miss Smith, who

was charged with the care of the linen and the inspection of the

dormitories: but I had no time to listen to what they said; other

matters called off and enchained my attention.

   Hitherto, while gathering up the discourse of Mr. Brocklehurst

and Miss Temple, I had not, at the same time, neglected precautions to

secure my personal safety; which I thought would be effected, if I

could only elude observation. To this end, I had sat well back on

the form, and while seeming to be busy with my sum, had held my

slate in such a manner as to conceal my face: I might have escaped

notice, had not my treacherous slate somehow happened to slip from

my hand, and falling with an obtrusive crash, directly drawn every eye

upon me; I knew it was all over now, and, as I stooped to pick up

the two fragments of slate, I rallied my forces for the worst. It

came.

   'A careless girl!' said Mr. Brocklehurst, and immediately after-

'It is the new pupil, I perceive.' And before I could draw breath,

'I must not forget I have a word to say respecting her.' Then aloud:

how loud it seemed to me! 'Let the child who broke her slate come

forward!'

   Of my own accord I could not have stirred; I was paralysed: but the

two great girls who sat on each side of me, set me on my legs and

pushed me towards the dread judge, and then Miss Temple gently

assisted me to his very feet, and I caught her whispered counsel-

   'Don't be afraid, Jane, I saw it was an accident; you shall not

be punished.'

   The kind whisper went to my heart like a dagger.

   'Another minute, and she will despise me for a hypocrite,'

thought I; and an impulse of fury against Reed, Brocklehurst, and

Co. bounded in my pulses at the conviction. I was no Helen Burns.

   'Fetch that stool,' said Mr. Brocklehurst, pointing to a very

high one from which a monitor had just risen: it was brought.

   'Place the child upon it.'

   And I was placed there, by whom I don't know: I was in no condition

to note particulars; I was only aware that they had hoisted me up to

the height of Mr. Brocklehurst's nose, that he was within a yard of

me, and that a spread of shot orange and purple silk pelisses and a

cloud of silvery plumage extended and waved below me.

   Mr. Brocklehurst hemmed.

   'Ladies,' said he, turning to his family, 'Miss Temple, teachers,

and children, you all see this girl?'

   Of course they did; for I felt their eyes directed like

burning-glasses against my scorched skin.

   'You see she is yet young; you observe she possesses the ordinary

form of childhood; God has graciously given her the shape that He

has given to all of us; no signal deformity points her out as a marked

character. Who would think that the Evil One had already found a

servant and agent in her? Yet such, I grieve to say, is the case.'

   A pause- in which I began to steady the palsy of my nerves, and

to feel that the Rubicon was passed; and that the trial, no longer

to be shirked, must be firmly sustained.

   'My dear children,' pursued the black marble clergyman, with

pathos, 'this is a sad, a melancholy occasion; for it becomes my

duty to warn you, that this girl, who might be one of God's own lambs,

is a little castaway: not a member of the true flock, but evidently an

interloper and an alien. You must be on your guard against her; you

must shun her example; if necessary, avoid her company, exclude her

from your sports, and shut her out from your converse. Teachers, you

must watch her: keep your eyes on her movements, weigh well her words,

scrutinise her actions, punish her body to save her soul: if,

indeed, such salvation be possible, for (my tongue falters while I

tell it) this girl, this child, the native of a Christian land,

worse than many a little heathen who says its prayers to Brahma and

kneels before Juggernaut- this girl is- a liar!'

   Now came a pause of ten minutes, during which I, by this time in

perfect possession of my wits, observed all the female Brocklehursts

produce their pocket-handkerchiefs and apply them to their optics,

while the elderly lady swayed herself to and fro, and the two

younger ones whispered, 'How shocking!'

   Mr. Brocklehurst resumed.

   '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, fearful lest her vicious example should contaminate their

purity: she has sent her here to be healed, even as the Jews of old

sent their diseased to the troubled pool of Bethesda; and, teachers,

superintendent, I beg of you not to allow the waters to stagnate round

her.'

   With this sublime conclusion, Mr. Brocklehurst adjusted the top

button of his surtout, muttered something to his family, who rose,

bowed to Miss Temple, and then all the great people sailed in state

from the room. 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, then, mounted aloft; I, who had said I could not

bear the shame of standing on my natural feet in the middle of the

room, was now exposed to general view on a pedestal of infamy. What my

sensations were, no language can describe; but just as they all

rose, stifling my breath and constricting my throat, a girl came up

and passed me: in passing, she lifted her eyes. What a strange light

inspired them! What an extraordinary sensation that ray sent through

me! How the new feeling bore me up! It was as if a martyr, a hero, had

passed a slave or victim, and imparted strength in the transit. I

mastered the rising hysteria, lifted up my head, and took a firm stand

on the stool. Helen Burns asked some slight questions about her work

of Miss Smith, was chidden for the triviality of the inquiry, returned

to her place, and smiled at me as she again went by. What a smile! I

remember it now, and I know that it was the effluence of fine

intellect, of true courage; it lit up her marked lineaments, her

thin face, her sunken grey eye, like a reflection from the aspect of

an angel. Yet at that moment Helen Burns wore on her arm 'the untidy

badge;' scarcely an hour ago I had heard her condemned by Miss

Scatcherd to a dinner of bread and water on the morrow because she had

blotted an exercise in copying it out. Such is the imperfect nature of

man! such spots are there on the disc of the clearest planet; and eyes

like Miss Scatcherd's can only see those minute defects, and are blind

to the full brightness of the orb.