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1I had once vowed that I would never call her aunt again: I thought it no sin to forget and break that vow now. My
2fingers had fastened on her hand which lay outside the sheet: had she pressed mine kindly, I should at that moment have
3experienced true pleasure. But unimpressionable natures are not so soon softened, nor are natural antipathies so readily
4eradicated. Mrs. Reed took her hand away, and, turning her face rather from me, she remarked that the night was warm.
5Again she regarded me so icily, I felt at once that her opinion of me--her feeling towards me--was unchanged and
6unchangeable. I knew by her stony eye--opaque to tenderness, indissoluble to tears--that she was resolved to consider me
7bad to the last; because to believe me good would give her no generous pleasure: only a sense of mortification. I felt
8pain, and then I felt ire; and then I felt a determination to subdue her--to be her mistress in spite both of her nature
9and her will. My tears had risen, just as in childhood: I ordered them back to their source. I brought a chair to the
10bed-head: I sat down and leaned over the pillow. "You sent for me," I said, "and I am here; and it is my intention to
11stay till I see how you get on." "Oh, of course! You have seen my daughters?" "Yes." "Well, you may tell them I wish you
12to stay till I can talk some things over with you I have on my mind: to-night it is too late, and I have a difficulty in
13recalling them. But there was something I wished to say--let me see--" The wandering look and changed utterance told
14what wreck had taken place in her once vigorous frame. Turning restlessly, she drew the bedclothes round her; my elbow,
15resting on a corner of the quilt, fixed it down: she was at once irritated. "Sit up!" said she; "don't annoy me with
16holding the clothes fast. Are you Jane Eyre?" "I am Jane Eyre." "I have had more trouble with that child than any one
17would believe. Such a burden to be left on my hands--and so much annoyance as she caused me, daily and hourly, with her
18incomprehensible disposition, and her sudden starts of temper, and her continual, unnatural watchings of one's
19movements! I declare she talked to me once like something mad, or like a fiend--no child ever spoke or looked as she
20did; I was glad to get her away from the house. What did they do with her at Lowood? The fever broke out there, and many
21of the pupils died. She, however, did not die: but I said she did--I wish she had died!" "A strange wish, Mrs. Reed; why
22do you hate her so?" "I had a dislike to her mother always; for she was my husband's only sister, and a great favourite
23with him: he opposed the family's disowning her when she made her low marriage; and when news came of her death, he wept
24like a simpleton. He would send for the baby; though I entreated him rather to put it out to nurse and pay for its
25maintenance. I hated it the first time I set my eyes on it--a sickly, whining, pining thing! It would wail in its cradle
26all night long--not screaming heartily like any other child, but whimpering and moaning. Reed pitied it; and he used to
27nurse it and notice it as if it had been his own: more, indeed, than he ever noticed his own at that age. He would try
28to make my children friendly to the little beggar: the darlings could not bear it, and he was angry with them when they
29showed their dislike. In his last illness, he had it brought continually to his bedside; and but an hour before he died,
30he bound me by vow to keep the creature. I would as soon have been charged with a pauper brat out of a workhouse: but he
31was weak, naturally weak. John does not at all resemble his father, and I am glad of it: John is like me and like my
32brothers--he is quite a Gibson. Oh, I wish he would cease tormenting me with letters for money! I have no more money to
33give him: we are getting poor. I must send away half the servants and shut up part of the house; or let it off. I can
34never submit to do that--yet how are we to get on? Two-thirds of my income goes in paying the interest of mortgages.
35John gambles dreadfully, and always loses--poor boy! He is beset by sharpers: John is sunk and degraded--his look is
36frightful--I feel ashamed for him when I see him." She was getting much excited. "I think I had better leave her now,"
37said I to Bessie, who stood on the other side of the bed. "Perhaps you had, Miss: but she often talks in this way
38towards night--in the morning she is calmer." I rose. "Stop!" exclaimed Mrs. Reed, "there is another thing I wished to
39say. He threatens me--he continually threatens me with his own death, or mine: and I dream sometimes that I see him laid
40out with a great wound in his throat, or with a swollen and blackened face. I am come to a strange pass: I have heavy
41troubles. What is to be done? How is the money to be had?" Bessie now endeavoured to persuade her to take a sedative
42draught: she succeeded with difficulty. Soon after, Mrs. Reed grew more composed, and sank into a dozing state. I then
43left her. More than ten days elapsed before I had again any conversation with her. She continued either delirious or
44lethargic; and the doctor forbade everything which could painfully excite her. Meantime, I got on as well as I could
45with Georgiana and Eliza. They were very cold, indeed, at first. Eliza would sit half the day sewing, reading, or
46writing, and scarcely utter a word either to me or her sister. Georgiana would chatter nonsense to her canary bird by
47the hour, and take no notice of me. But I was determined not to seem at a loss for occupation or amusement: I had
48brought my drawing materials with me, and they served me for both. Provided with a case of pencils, and some sheets of
49paper, I used to take a seat apart from them, near the window, and busy myself in sketching fancy vignettes,
50representing any scene that happened momentarily to shape itself in the ever-shifting kaleidoscope of imagination: a
51glimpse of sea between two rocks; the rising moon, and a ship crossing its disk; a group of reeds and water-flags, and a
52naiad's head, crowned with lotus-flowers, rising out of them; an elf sitting in a hedge-sparrow's nest, under a wreath
53of hawthorn-bloom. One morning I fell to sketching a face: what sort of a face it was to be, I did not care or know. I
54took a soft black pencil, gave it a broad point, and worked away. Soon I had traced on the paper a broad and prominent
55forehead and a square lower outline of visage: that contour gave me pleasure; my fingers proceeded actively to fill it
56with features. Strongly-marked horizontal eyebrows must be traced under that brow; then followed, naturally, a
57well-defined nose, with a straight ridge and full nostrils; then a flexible-looking mouth, by no means narrow; then a
58firm chin, with a decided cleft down the middle of it: of course, some black whiskers were wanted, and some jetty hair,
59tufted on the temples, and waved above the forehead. Now for the eyes: I had left them to the last, because they
60required the most careful working. I drew them large; I shaped them well: the eyelashes I traced long and sombre; the
61irids lustrous and large. "Good! but not quite the thing," I thought, as I surveyed the effect: "they want more force
62and spirit;" and I wrought the shades blacker, that the lights might flash more brilliantly--a happy touch or two
63secured success. There, I had a friend's face under my gaze; and what did it signify that those young ladies turned
64their backs on me? I looked at it; I smiled at the speaking likeness: I was absorbed and content.
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