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Hitherto I hae rded iail the eents of insignifit eisteo the first ten years of life I hae gien alst as ny chapters. But this is not to be a regur autobiography. I aonly bound to inoke Mery where I know her responses will possess so degree of i; therefore I now pass a space of eight years alst in silence: a few lines only are necessary to keep up the links of e.
Wheyphus feer had fulfilled its ssion of deastation at Lowood, it gradually disappeared frothence; but not till its irulend the nuer of its icti had drawn public attention on the school. Inquiry was de into the in of the sce, and by degrees arious facts ca out which ecited publidignation in a high degree. The uhy nature of the site; the quantity and quality of the children’s food; the brackish, fetid water used in its preparation; the pupils’ wretched clothing and aodations—all these things were dered, and the dery produced a resu rtifying to Mr. Brocklehurst, but beneficial to the institution.
Seeral weahy and be indiiduals iy subscribed rgely for the ere of a re e building in a better situation; new regutions were de; iroents i and clothing introduced; the funds of the school were intrusted to the of a ittee. Mr. Brocklehurst, who, frohis weah and faly esuld not be oerlooked, still retaihe post of treasurer; but he was aided in the discharge of his duties by gentlen of rather re enrged and syathising nds: his office of ior, too, was shared by those who knew how to bine reason with striess, fort with ey, passion with uprightness. The school, thus iroed, be ti a truly useful and noble institution. I reined an inte of its walls, after its regeion, fht years: si as pupil, and two as teacher; and in both capacities I bear testiny to its alue and iortance.
During these eight years life was unifor but not unhappy, because it was not inactie. I had the ans of an ecellent education pced within reach; a fondness for so of studies, and a desire to ecel in all, together with a great delight in pleasing teachers, especially such as I loed, urged on: I aailed self fully of the adantages offered . In ti I rose to be the first girl of the first css; then I was ied with the office of teacher; which I discharged with zeal for two years: but at the end of that ti I aered.
Miss Tele, through all ges, had thus far tinued superinte of the senary: to her instru I owed the best part of acquirents; her friendship and society had been tinual soce; she had stood iead of erness, and, tterly, panion. At this period she rried, reed with her husband (a clergyn, an ecellent n, alst worthy of such a wife) to a distant ty, and sequently was lost to .
Frothe day she left I was no lohe sa: with her was gone eery settled feeling, eery association that had de Lowood in so degree a ho to . I had iibed froher sothing of her nature and ch of her habits: re harnious thoughts: what seed better reguted feelings had bee the intes of nd. I had gien in allegiao duty and order; I was quiet; I belieed I was tent: to the eyes of others, usually een to own, I appeared a disciplined and subdued character.
But destiny, in the shape of the Re. Mr. Nasth, ca between and Miss Tele: I saw her iraelling dress step into a post-chaise, shortly after the rriage y; I watched the chaise unt the hill and disappear beyond its brow; and theired to own roo and there spent in solitude the greatest part of the half-holiday granted in honour of the oasion.
I walked about the chaer st of the ti. I igined self only to be regretting loss, and thinking how to repair it; but when refles were cluded, and I looked up and found that the afternoon was gone, and eening far adanced, another dery dawned on , naly, that ieral I had undergoransf process; that nd had put off all it had borrowed of Miss Tele—or rather that she had taken with her the seresphere I had beehing in her iity—and that now I was left in natural elent, and beginning to feel the stirring of old etions. It did not seeas if a prop were withdrawn, but rather as if a tie were go was not the power to be tranquil which had failed , but the reason for tranquillity was no re. My world had for so years been in Lowood: eperience had been of its rules and syste; now I reered that the real world was wide, and that a aried field of hopes and fears, of sensatios, awaited those who had ce to go forth into its epao seek real knowledge of life adst its perils.
I went to window, ope, and looked out. There were the two wings of the building; there was the garden; there were the skirts of Lowood; there was the hilly horizon. My eye passed all other objects to rest on those st rete, the blue peaks; it was those I loo surunt; all within their boundary of rod heath seed prison-ground, eile lits. I;ar..;/ar traced the white road winding round the base of oain, and anishing in a ge between two; how I loo follow it farther! I recalled the ti when I had traelled that ery road in ach; I reered desding that hill at twilight; an age seed to hae epsed sihe day which brought first to Lowood, and I had neer quitted it since. My acations had all bee at srs. Reed had neer sent for to Gateshead; her she nor any of her faly had eer been to isit . I had had no unication by letter or ssage with the outer world: school-rules, school-duties, school-habits and notions, and oices, and faces, and phrases, and es, and preferences, and antipathies—such was what I knew of eistence. And now I fe that it was not enough; I tired of the routine of eight years iernoon. I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seed scattered on the wind then faintly blowing. I aba and frad a huler supplicatioilus: that petition, too, seed swept off into ague space: “Then,” I cried, half desperate, “gra least a new seritude!”
Here a bell, ringing the hour of supper, called downstairs.
I was not free to resu the interrupted of refles till bedti: een then a teacher who oupied the sa roowith kept frothe subject to which I loo recur, by a prolonged effusion of sll talk. How I wished sleep would silence her. It seed as ifuld I but go back to the idea which had st entered nd as I stood at the window, so iie suggestion would rise for relief.
Miss Gryored at st; she was a heay Welshwon, and till now her habitual nasal strains had neer been regarded by in any ht than as a nuisao-night I hailed the first deep notes with satisf I was debarrassed of interruption; half- effaced thought instantly reied.
“A new seritude! There is sothing in that,” I soliloquised (ntally, be it uood; I did not talk aloud), “I know there is, because it does not sound too sweet; it is not like such words as Liberty, Et, Enjoynt: delightful sounds truly; but han sounds for ; and so hollow and fleeting that it is re waste of ti to listen to the But Seritude! That st be tter of fact. Any one y sere: I hae sered here eight years; now all I want is to sere elsewhere. I not get so y own will? Is not the thing feasible? Yes—yes—the end is not so difficu; if I had only a brain actie enough to ferret out the ans of attaining it.”
I sat up in bed by way of arousing this said brain: it was a chilly night; ered shoulders with a shawl, and then I proceeded TO think again with all ght.
“What do I want? A new pce, in a new house, angst new faces, under new circes: I want this because it is of no use wanting anythier. How do people do to get a new pce? They apply to friends, I suppose: I hae no friends. There are ny others who hae no friends, who st look about for theeles aheir own helpers; and what is their resource?”
uld not tell: nothing answered ; I then ordered brain to find a response, and quickly. It worked and worked faster: I fe the pulses throb in head and teles; but for nearly an hour it worked in chaos; and ca of its efforts. Feerish with ain bour, I got up and took a turn in the roo uhe curtain, noted a star or two, shiered witld, and agaio bed.
A kind fairy, in absence, had surely dropped the required suggestion on  illow; for as I y down, it ca quietly and naturally to nd.—“Those who want situations adertise; you st adertise in the—shire Herald.”
“How? I know nothing about adertising.”
Replies rose soth and prot now:—
“You st enclose the adertisent and the o pay for it under er directed to the editor of the Herald; you st put it, the first opportunity you hae, into the post at Lowton; answers st be addressed to J.E., at the post-office there; you go and inquire in about a week after you send your letter, if any are e, and act aly.”
This sche I wewice, thrice; it was then digested in nd; I had it in a clear practical for I fe satisfied, and fell asleep.
With earliest day, I : I had adertisent written, enclosed, and directed before the bell rang to rouse the school; it ran thus:—
“A young dy aced to tuition” (had I not been a teacher two years?) “is desirous of eting with a situation in a priate faly where the children are under fourteen (I thought that as I was barely eighteen, it would not do to uake the guidance of pupils nearer own age). She is qualified to teach the usual branches of a good English education, together with French, Drawing, and Music” (in those days, reader, this now narrow catalogue of aplishnts, would hae beeolerably prehensie). “Address, J.E., Post-office, Lowton,—shire.”
This dot reined locked in drawer all day: after tea, I asked leae of the new superinteo go to Lowton, in order to perforso sll issions for self and one or two of fellow-teachers; perssion was readily granted; I went. It was a walk of two les, and the eening was wet, but the days were still long; I isited a shop or two, slipped the letter into the post- office, and ca back through heay rain, with streang garnts, but with a relieed heart.
The sueeding week seed long: it ca to an end at st, howeer, like all sublunary things, and once re, towards the close of a pleasant autu day, I found self afoot on the road to Lowton. A picturesque track it was, by the way; lying along the side of the bed through the sweetest cures of the dale: but that day I thought re of the letters, that ght ht not be awaiti the little burgh whither I was bound, than of the char of lea and water.
My ostensible errand on this oasion was to get asured for a pair of shoes; so I discharged that business first, and when it was done, I stepped across the and quiet little street frothe shoeker’s to the post-office: it was kept by an old da, who wore horacles on her nose, and bck ttens on her hands.
“Are there aers for J.E.?” I asked.
She peered at oer her spectacles, and then she opened a drawer and fuled ang its tents for a long ti, so long that hopes began to faer. At st, haing held a dot before her gsses for nearly fie nutes, she prese across the ter, apanying the act by another inquisitie and strustful g was for J.E.
“Is there only one?” I dended.
“There are no re,” said she; and I put it in  ocket and turned faeward: uld not open it then; rules obliged to be back by eight, and it was already half-past seen.
Various duties awaited on arrial. I had to sit with the girls during their hour of study; then it was turn to read prayers; to see theto bed: afterwards I supped with the other teachers. Een when we finally retired for the night, the iable Miss Gryce was still  anion: we had only a short end of dle in our dlestick, and I dreaded lest she should talk till it was all burnt out; fortunately, howeer, the heay supper she had eaten produced a soporific effect: she was already sn before I had finished undressing. There still reined an inch of dle: I now took out letter; the seal was an initial F.; I broke it; the tents were brief.
“If J.E., who adertised in the—shire Herald of st Thursday, possesses the acquirents ntioned, and if she is in a position to gie satisfactory references as to character aency, a situation be offered her where there is but one pupil, a little girl, uen years of age; and where the sary is thirty pounds per annu J.E. is requested to send references, na, address, and all particurs to the dire:—
“Mrs. Fairfa, Thornfield, near Mite,—shire.”
I eahe dot long: the writing was old-fashioned and rather uain, like that of in elderly dy. This circe was satisfactory: a priate fear had haunted , that in thus ag for self, and by own guidance, I ran the r;q;/qisk of getting into so scrape; and, aboe all things, I wished the resu of endeaours to be respectable, proper, en règle. I now fe that an elderly dy was no bad ingredient in the business I had on hand. Mrs. Fairfa! I saw her in a bck gown and widow’s cap; frigid, perhaps, but not unciil: a del of elderly English respectability. Thornfield! that, doubtless, was the na of her house: a orderly spot, I was sure; though I failed in efforts to ceie rre of the preses. Mite, — shire; I brushed up lles of the p of Engnd, yes, I saw it; both the shire and the town. —shire was seenty les nearer London thae ty where I now resided: that was a reendation to . I loo go where there was life a: Mite was a rge nufacturing town on the banks of the A-; a busy pough, doubtless: so ch the better; it would be a plete ge at least. Not that fancy was ch captiated by the idea of long eys and clouds of ske—“but,” I argued, “Thornfield will, probably, be a good way frothe town.”
Here the socket of the dle dropped, and the wick went out.
day eps were to be taken;  nuld no longer be fio ow; I st iart thein order to achiee their suess. Haing sought and obtained an audience of the superinte during the noontide recreation, I told her I had a prospect of getting a new situation bbr9９ｌｉｂ.;/abbrwhere the sary would be double what I now receied (for at Lowood I only got ￡15 per annu; and requested she would break the tter for to Mr. Brocklehurst, or so of the ittee, and ascertaiher they would pert to ntion theas references. She obligingly seo act as diatri iter. The day she id the affair before Mr. Brocklehurst, who said that Mrs. Reed st be written to, as she was natural guardian. A note was aly addressed to that dy, who returned for ahat “I ght do as I pleased: she had long relinquished all interferen affairs.” This note went the round of the ittee, and at st, after peared to st tedious dey, forl leae was gieo better dition if uld; and an assurance added, that as I had always ducted self well, both as teacher and pupil, at Lowood, a testinial of character and capacity, signed by the iors of that institution, should forthwith be furnished .
This testinial I aly receied in about a nth, forwarded py of it to Mrs. Fairfa, and got that dy’s reply, stating that she was satisfied, and fig that day fht as the period for assung the post of goerness in her house.
I now busied self in preparations: the fht passed rapidly. I had not a ery rge wardrobe, though it was adequate to wants; and the st day sufficed to pabsp; trunk,—the sa I had brought with eight years agateshead.
The bo warded, the card nailed on. In half-an-hour the carrier was to call for it to take it to Lowton, whether I self was to repair at an early hour the to et thach. I had brushed bck stuff traelling-dress, prepared bo, gloes, and ff; sought in all drawers to see that no article was left behind; and now haing nothio do, I sat down and tried to rest. uld not; though I had been on foot all day, uld not now repose an instant; I was too ch ecited. A phase of life was closing to-night, a new one opening to-rrow: iossible to sluer ieral; I st watch feerishly while the ge was being aplished.
“Miss,” said a serant who t in the lobby, where I was wandering like a troubled spirit, “a person below wishes to see you.”
“The carrier, no doubt,” I thought, and ran downstairs without inquiry. I assing the back-parlour or teachers’ sitting-roo the door of which was half open, to go to the kit, when so one ran out—
“It’s her, I asure!—uld hae told her anywhere!” cried the indiidual who stopped  rogress and took hand.
I looked: I saw a won attired like a well-dressed serant, tronly, yet still young; ery good-looking, with bck hair and eyes, and liely pleion.
“Well, who is it?” she asked, in a oid with a sle I half reised; “you’e not quite fotten , I think, Miss Jane?”
In another sed I was erag and kissing her rapturously: “Bessie! Bessie! Bessie!” that was all I said; whereat she half ughed, half cried, ah went into the parlour. By the fire stood a little fellow of three years old, in pid frod trousers.
“That is little boy,” said Bessie directly.
“Then you are rried, Bessie?”
“Yes; nearly fie years sio Robert Leaen, the an; and I’e a little girl besides Bobby there, that I’e christened Jane.”
“And you don’t lie at Gateshead?”
“I lie at the lodge: the old porter has left.”
“Well, and how do they all get on? Tell eerything about the Bessie: but sit down first; and, Bobby, e and sit on knee, will you?” but Bobby preferred sidlio his ther.
“You’re not grown so ery tall, Miss Jane, nor so ery stout,” tinued Mrs. Leaen. “I dare say they’e not kept you too well at siss Reed is the head and shoulders taller than you are; and Miss Geiana would ke two of you ih.”
“Geiana is handso, I suppose, Bessie?”
“Very. She went up to London st winter with her , and there eerybody adred her, and a young lord fell ih her: but his retions were against the tch; and—what do you think?—he and Miss Geia up to run away; but they were found out and stopped. It was Miss Reed that found theout: I beliee she was enious; and now she and her sister lead a cat and dog life together; they are always quarrelling—”
“Well, and what of John Reed?”
“Oh, he is not doing so well as his ld wish. He went tllege, a—plucked, I think they call it: and then his uncles wanted hito be a barrister, and study the w: but he is such a dissipated young n, they will neer ke ch of hi I think.”
“What does he look like?”
“He is ery tall: so people call hia fine-looking young n; but he has such thick lips.”
“And Mrs. Reed?”
“Missis looks stout and well enough in the face, but I think she’s not quite easy in her nd: Mr. John’s duct does not please her—he spends a deal of ney.”
“Did she send you here, Bessie?”
“No, indeed: but I hae long wao see you, and when I heard that there had been a letter froyou, and that you were going to another part of the try, I thought I’d just set of, a a look at you before you were quite out of reach.”
“I aafraid you are disappointed in , Bessie.” I said this ughing: I perceied that Bessie’s ghough it epressed regard, did in no shape denote adration.
“No, Miss Jane, ly: yenteel enough; you look like a dy, and it is as ch as eer I epected of you: you were y as a child.”
I sled at Bessie’s frank answer: I fe that it warrect, but I fess I was not quite indifferent to its iort: at eighteen st people wish to please, and the i that they hae not aerior likely to sed that desire brings anything but gratification.
“I dare say you are cleer, though,” tinued Bessie, by way of soce. “What you do? you py on the piano?”
“A little.”
There was one in the roo Bessie went and ope, and then asked to sit down and gie her a tune: I pyed a waz or two, and she was chard.
“The Miss Reeduld not py as well!” said she euingly. “I always said you would surpass thein learning: and you draw?”
“That is one of  aintings oer the ey-piece.” It was a ndscape in watelours, of which I had de a present to the superinte, in aowledgnt of her obligiion with the ittee on behalf, and which she had frad and gzed.
“Well, that is beautiful, Miss Ja is as fine a picture as any Miss Reed’s drawing-steuld paint, let ;ar..;/aralohe young dies theeles, whuld not e near it: and hae you learnt French?”
“Yes, Bessie, I both read it and speak it.”
“And you work on slin and as?”
“I .”
“Oh, you are quite a dy, Miss Jane! I knew you would be: you will get oher your retions notice you or not. There was sothing I wao ask you. Hae you eer heard anything froyour father’s kinsfolk, the Eyres?”
“Neer in life.”
“Well, you know Missis always said they were poor and quite despicable: and they y be poor; but I beliee they are as ch gentry as the Reeds are; for one day, nearly seen years ago, a Mr. Eyre ca to Gateshead and wao see you; Missis said you were it school fifty les off; he seed so ch disappointed, for huld not stay: he was going on a oyage to a fn try, and the ship was to sail froLondon in a day or two. He looked quite a gentlen, and I beliee he was your father’s brother.”
“What fn try was he going to, Bessie?”
“An isnd thousands of les off, where they ke wihe butler did tell —”
“Madeira?” I suggested.
“Yes, that is it—that is the ery word.”
“So he went?”
“Yes; he did not stay ny nutes in the house: Missis was ery high with hi she called hiafterwards a ‘sneaking tradesn.’ My Robert beliees he was a wi.”
“Very likely,” I returned; “or perhaps clerk ent to a wi.”
Bessie and I ersed about old tis an hour longer, and then she was obliged to leae : I saw her again for a few he at Lowton, while I was waiting for thach. We parted finally at the door of the Brocklehurst Ar there: each went her separate way; she set off for the brow of Lowood Fell to et the eyance which was to take her back to Gateshead, I uhe ehicle which was to bear to new duties and a new life in the unknown enirons of Mite.
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