Джейн Эйр / Jane Eyre

“A careless girl!” cried Mr. Brocklehurst. “Let the child who broke her slate come forward!” Miss Temple gently assisted me to his very feet. “Don’t be afraid, Jane, I saw it was an accident; you will not be punished.” But Mr. Brocklehurst had another opinion.

“Fetch that stool and place the child upon it!”

“Ladies,’ said he, turning to his family, ‘Miss Temple, teachers, and children, you all see this girl? You see she is yet young; you observe she possesses the ordinary form of childhood; but the Evil One had already found a servant and agent in her. You must be on your guard against her; if necessary, avoid her company. Teachers, you must watch her: keep your eyes on her movements, weigh well her words, punish her body to save her soul: if, indeed, such salvation is possible at all as this girl is a LIAR! This I learned from her benefactress; from the charitable lady who adopted her in her orphan state and brought her up as her own daughter.”

He finished his speech, bowed to Miss Temple and the others, and added, “Let her stand half an hour longer like that, and let no one speak to her till tomorrow.”

I could not bear the shame of standing on my natural feet in the middle of the room but could do nothing about it. But just as everyone rose, Helen came up and passed me lifting up her eyes to look at me. She looked at me as if I were a true martyr or a hero. I mastered the rising hysteria, lifted up my head, and took a firm stand on the stool. Helen smiled at me as she passed me again, and I knew I could now endure anything.[15]

Chapter 8

When my half an hour punishment ended, five o’clock struck. School was dismissed, and all were gone into the refectory to tea. I descended from the stool and felt suddenly lonely and miserable. Helen Burns was not here, nothing sustained me, I sank with my face to the ground and felt my tears fill my eyes.

I had tried so hard. I had meant to be so good. I had reached the top of my class. Miss Miller had praised me warmly. Miss Temple had promised to teach me drawing, and to let me learn French, if I continued to make similar improvement two months longer. I was well received by my fellow-pupils; treated as an equal by those of my own age, and not bullied by any. Now everything was ruined.

I heard someone approach – again Helen Burns was near me. She brought my coffee and bread.

“Come, eat something,” she said kindly, and sat down next to me, but I put both away from me.

“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 it, and the world contains hundreds of millions.”

“I do not care about millions. The eighty I know now despise me.”

“You are wrong, probably not one in the school either despises or dislikes you. Many though pity you.”

“How can they pity me after what Mr. Brocklehurst’s words?”

“Mr. Brocklehurst is not a god. He is little liked here. If he had treated you as an especial favourite, you would have found enemies. As it is, you might find people look at you coldly for a day or two, but they sympathise with you in their hearts. Besides…”

“Well, Helen?” I said putting my hand into hers.

“If all the world hated you, you would not be without friends.”

“I cannot bear to be hated.”

“You think too much of the love of human beings. Remember, our life is very short, and we should not sink into distress. Besides this earth, and besides the race of men, there is an invisible world of spirits: that world is round us, for it is everywhere; and those spirits watch us and guard us. They always recognise innocence.”

I was silent; Helen had calmed me. There was sadness in her voice I could still not understand, she breathed a little fast and coughed a little. I momentarily forgot my sorrows feeling concern about her. Resting my head on Helen’s shoulder, I put my arms round her waist. That was how Miss Temple found us.

“I came on purpose to find you, Jane Eyre. I want you in my room; and as Helen Burns is with you, I want her to come too.”

We followed her away from the schoolroom along passages I had never seen and up a staircase before we reached her apartment. It contained a good fire, cozy low armchairs around and looked cheerful.

We sat down, and Miss Temple asked: “Is it all over, Jane? Have you cried your sorrows away?”

“I am afraid I will never do that,” I said. “I have been wrongly accused, and now everyone will think I am wicked.”

“We will consider you to be what you prove yourself to be, my child. Continue to act as a good girl, and we will never think you are wicked.”

I could hardly believe her kindness.

“And now tell me about this benefactress of yours. Why did she call you a liar? Defend yourself to me as well as you can, but add nothing and exaggerate nothing.”

I told her all about Mrs. Reed, and John Reed, and the red-room, and all the things that happened at Gateshead Hall. I tried to restrain myself, the story turned out to be less emotional than usual but more credible.