Jane Eyre | Page 8

she only wanted to bring us all here: I know her naughty
tricks."
"What is all this?" demanded another voice peremptorily; and Mrs.
Reed came along the corridor, her cap flying wide, her gown rustling
stormily. "Abbot and Bessie, I believe I gave orders that Jane Eyre
should be left in the red-room till I came to her myself."

"Miss Jane screamed so loud, ma'am," pleaded Bessie.
"Let her go," was the only answer. "Loose Bessie's hand, child: you
cannot succeed in getting out by these means, be assured. I abhor
artifice, particularly in children; it is my duty to show you that tricks
will not answer: you will now stay here an hour longer, and it is only
on condition of perfect submission and stillness that I shall liberate you
then."
"O aunt! have pity! Forgive me! I cannot endure it -- let me be
punished some other way! I shall be killed if -- "
"Silence! This violence is all most repulsive:" and so, no doubt, she felt
it. I was a precocious actress in her eyes; she sincerely looked on me as
a compound of virulent passions, mean spirit, and dangerous duplicity.
Bessie and Abbot having retreated, Mrs. Reed, impatient of my now
frantic anguish and wild sobs, abruptly thrust me back and locked me
in, without farther parley. I heard her sweeping away; and soon after
she was gone, I suppose I had a species of fit: unconsciousness closed
the scene.

CHAPTER III
The next thing I remember is, waking up with a feeling as if I had had a
frightful nightmare, and seeing before me a terrible red glare, crossed
with thick black bars. I heard voices, too, speaking with a hollow sound,
and as if muffled by a rush of wind or water: agitation, uncertainty, and
an all-predominating sense of terror confused my faculties. Ere long, I
became aware that some one was handling me; lifting me up and
supporting me in a sitting posture, and that more tenderly than I had
ever been raised or upheld before. I rested my head against a pillow or
an arm, and felt easy.
In five minutes more the cloud of bewilderment dissolved: I knew quite
well that I was in my own bed, and that the red glare was the nursery

fire. It was night: a candle burnt on the table; Bessie stood at the
bed-foot with a basin in her hand, and a gentleman sat in a chair near
my pillow, leaning over me.
I felt an inexpressible relief, a soothing conviction of protection and
security, when I knew that there was a stranger in the room, an
individual not belonging to Gateshead., and not related to Mrs. Reed.
Turning from Bessie (though her presence was far less obnoxious to me
than that of Abbot, for instance, would have been), I scrutinised the
face of the gentleman: I knew him; it was Mr. Lloyd, an apothecary,
sometimes called in by Mrs. Reed when the servants were ailing: for
herself and the children she employed a physician.
"Well, who am I?" he asked.
I pronounced his name, offering him at the same time my hand: he took
it, smiling and saying, "We shall do very well by-and-by." Then he laid
me down, and addressing Bessie, charged her to be very careful that I
was not disturbed during the night. Having given some further
directions, and intimates that he should call again the next day, he
departed; to my grief: I felt so sheltered and befriended while he sat in
the chair near my pillow; and as he closed the door after him, all the
room darkened and my heart again sank: inexpressible sadness weighed
it down.
"Do you feel as if you should sleep, Miss?" asked Bessie, rather softly.
Scarcely dared I answer her; for I feared the next sentence might be
rough. "I will try."
"Would you like to drink, or could you eat anything?"
"No, thank you, Bessie."
"Then I think I shall go to bed, for it is past twelve o'clock; but you
may call me if you want anything in the night."
Wonderful civility this! It emboldened me to ask a question.

"Bessie, what is the matter with me? Am I ill?"
"You fell sick, I suppose, in the red-room with crying; you'll be better
soon, no doubt."
Bessie went into the housemaid's apartment, which was near. I heard
her say -
"Sarah, come and sleep with me in the nursery; I daren't for my life be
alone with that poor child to-night: she might die; it's such a strange
thing she should have that fit: I wonder if she saw anything. Missis was
rather too hard."
Sarah came back with her; they both went to bed; they were whispering
together for half-an-hour before