Jane Eyre | Page 6

in spite of its grandeur.
Mr. Reed had been dead nine years: it was in this chamber he breathed
his last; here he lay in state; hence his coffin was borne by the
undertaker's men; and, since that day, a sense of dreary consecration
had guarded it from frequent intrusion.
My seat, to which Bessie and the bitter Miss Abbot had left me riveted,
was a low ottoman near the marble chimney-piece; the bed rose before

me; to my right hand there was the high, dark wardrobe, with subdued,
broken reflections varying the gloss of its panels; to my left were the
muffled windows; a great looking-glass between them repeated the
vacant majesty of the bed and room. I was not quite sure whether they
had locked the door; and when I dared move, I got up and went to see.
Alas! yes: no jail was ever more secure. Returning, I had to cross
before the looking-glass; my fascinated glance involuntarily explored
the depth it revealed. All looked colder and darker in that visionary
hollow than in reality: and the strange little figure there gazing at me,
with a white face and arms specking the gloom, and glittering eyes of
fear moving where all else was still, had the effect of a real spirit: I
thought it like one of the tiny phantoms, half fairy, half imp, Bessie's
evening stories represented as coming out of lone, ferny dells in moors,
and appearing before the eyes of belated travellers. I returned to my
stool.
Superstition was with me at that moment; but it was not yet her hour
for complete victory: my blood was still warm; the mood of the
revolted slave was still bracing me with its bitter vigour; I had to stem a
rapid rush of retrospective thought before I quailed to the dismal
present.
All John Reed's violent tyrannies, all his sisters' proud indifference, all
his mother's aversion, all the servants' partiality, turned up in my
disturbed mind like a dark deposit in a turbid well. Why was I always
suffering, always browbeaten, always accused, for ever condemned?
Why could I never please? Why was it useless to try to win any one's
favour? Eliza, who was headstrong and selfish, was respected.
Georgiana, who had a spoiled temper, a very acrid spite, a captious and
insolent carriage, was universally indulged. Her beauty, her pink
cheeks and golden curls, seemed to give delight to all who looked at
her, and to purchase indemnity for every fault. John no one thwarted,
much less punished; though he twisted the necks of the pigeons, killed
the little pea-chicks, set the dogs at the sheep, stripped the hothouse
vines of their fruit, and broke the buds off the choicest plants in the
conservatory: he called his mother "old girl," too; sometimes reviled
her for her dark skin, similar to his own; bluntly disregarded her wishes;

not unfrequently tore and spoiled her silk attire; and he was still "her
own darling." I dared commit no fault: I strove to fulfil every duty; and
I was termed naughty and tiresome, sullen and sneaking, from morning
to noon, and from noon to night.
My head still ached and bled with the blow and fall I had received: no
one had reproved John for wantonly striking me; and because I had
turned against him to avert farther irrational violence, I was loaded with
general opprobrium.
"Unjust! -- unjust!" said my reason, forced by the agonising stimulus
into precocious though transitory power: and Resolve, equally wrought
up, instigated some strange expedient to achieve escape from
insupportable oppression -- as running away, or, if that could not be
effected, never eating or drinking more, and letting myself die.
What a consternation of soul was mine that dreary afternoon! How all
my brain was in tumult, and all my heart in insurrection! Yet in what
darkness, what dense ignorance, was the mental battle fought! I could
not answer the ceaseless inward question -- WHY I thus suffered; now,
at the distance of -- I will not say how many years, I see it clearly.
I was a discord in Gateshead Hall: I was like nobody there; I had
nothing in harmony with Mrs. Reed or her children, or her chosen
vassalage. If they did not love me, in fact, as little did I love them.
They were not bound to regard with affection a thing that could not
sympathise with one amongst them; a heterogeneous thing, opposed to
them in temperament, in capacity, in propensities; a useless thing,
incapable of serving their interest, or adding to their pleasure; a noxious
thing, cherishing the germs of indignation at their treatment, of
contempt of their judgment. I know that had I been a sanguine, brilliant,
careless, exacting, handsome, romping child -- though equally
dependent