Original subtitles

What a consternation of soul was mine that dreary afternoon.

I was 10 years old and a discord at Gateshead Hall.

A useless thing, a noxious thing, an orphan, cherishing the germs of

indignation at my supposed benefactor's treatment of me.

Jane, I just like cavernous and questioners.

But Bessie... what does she say I have done?

Go child.

Sit yourself somewhere and until you can speak pleasantly, remain silent.

Madame Maude.

I had nothing in Harmony with Mrs. Reed or her children.

Really?

There is something truly forbidding in a child

taking up her elders in that sullen manner.

She questions us too, Maman.

I know, darling.

We are all under a necessity to teach her to be more natural.

And more respectful too.

After all, without our charity she'll be a pauper.

Why could I never please?

When the northern ocean in vast worlds boils round the naked melancholy isles of

father's... Where the dickens is she?

Not here.

Is he?

Tell my ma she's run out into the rain.

The bad animal.

No, she hates the rain.

Such a lamby panly.

She's in the window seat to be sure.

Yes, I am.

And I stepped forth to face my chief oppressor.

What do you want?

Say what do you want, Master Reed.

Master Reed, because I am.

I will be.

Come here.

John Reed ought to have been at school, but his mamma

had taken him home on account of his delicate health.

That's for your impudence.

Answering mamma and for sneaking behind curtains.

You rat.

What were you doing behind there?

I was reading.

Show the book.

You've no business taking our books.

You're a dependent.

You've no money.

Your father left you none.

Stand over there.

Clear of the windows.

I'll teach you to homage my bookshelves, to eat

our food, to wear our clothes at mamma's expense.

Stand still.

Wicked.

Cruel.

Like a murderer.

A Roman emperor.

Did you hear that, Lizzie?

Georgie?

I'll teach her.

I'll teach her.

You rat!

Rat!

Lizzie!

Georgie!

Mamma!

Wait till I tell mamma.

Darlings, darlings!

She's been stealing our books, mamma.

She just flew at Jack.

Who attacked you, my darling?

Like a fury.

But have no fear.

I've mastered her viciousness.

Lizzie, fetch Abbott and Bessie.

What a picture of passion.

What a It wasn't not in here.

Not in this room.

If you don't sit still, you must be tied down.

Miss Abbott, lend me your garter.

She'd break mine directly.

No, don't.

I will not stir.

Mind you don't.

Both looked darkly and doubtfully upon me, as if incredulous of my sanity.

She never behaved so before.

Such a tantrum!

It was always in her.

I've told Mrs. Offen my opinion of the child, and Mrs. agreed with me.

For shame, Miss Eyre, to strike a young gentleman,

your young master, your benefactress's son.

Master?

How is he my master?

Am I a servant?

No!

You are less than a servant, for you do nothing for your sake.

What we tell you is for your good, Jane.

How can it be?

Look me in here.

So you may reflect upon your wickedness.

But old Mr. Reed died in here.

Say your prayers.

And ask God to make you humble, Miss Eyre.

So you may not put yourself on an equality with the Mrs. Reed and Master Reed.

They will have a great deal of money, you will have none.

It is your place to be useful and pleasant.

For if you're passionate and rude, Mrs. will send you away.

And then where would you go?

But it was he struck me.

Come Bessie, an underhand little thing.

I never saw a child with so much cover.

Please!

Unfair!

Unjust!

All said I was wicked.

But what fault had I committed, save to be born and incubus.

But I promised your poor dear Papa that I rear her as my own.

Oh John, darling, I don't care for you to drink wine.

The devil you don't, Mama.

One glass.

To your health, old girl.

Oh John.

I think it was not just Papa to demand such a pledge.

At our expense and for so distant a relative.

But darling, that pledge was wrung from me on his deathbed.

No one thwarted John.

No one locked him away without a candle.

Though he twisted the necks of the pigeons and set the dogs at the sheep,

he called his mother old girl and bluntly disregarded her wishes.

Still he was her own darling.

But I who dared commit no fault, who strove to noon and from noon tonight.

Please, Aunt Reed, don't.

I must not look at the bed.

I must not look at the bed.

No!

No!

Take me out!

Take me out!

Pity Aunt Reed, forgive me.

I cannot endure it.

Let me be punished some other way.

Please, please love me.

Love me.

Well, who am I?

I knew him.

He was Mr. Lloyd, an apothecary called in by Mrs. Reed when the servants were ill.

For herself and the children, she employed a physician.

Well?

Mr. Lloyd?

We shall do well by and by.

You've been crying.

Can you tell me what about?

Have you any pain?

No, sir.

I dare say she's crying because she could not go out with Mrs. in the carriage.

Oh, what nonsense at her age.

Such pettishness.

I hate going out in the carriage.

I cry because I'm miserable.

Oh, fine, Miss.

What made you ill last night, Jane?

She had a fall.

Fall?

Why, that is like a baby again.

Can't she manage to walk at her age?

I was knocked down.

That did not make me ill.

Ah, that will be for your dinner, Bessie.

You may go down.

Eat up if you can, Miss.

And mind your sharp tone.

I shall give Miss Eyre a lecture until you return.

No lecture.

It was not the fall that made you ill, you say?

No.

I was shut up in a room where there's a ghost till after dark.

Ghosts?

That it is like a baby again to be afraid of ghosts.

Mr. Reid's ghost, Diane.

He died in that room.

None of the servants would go in there at night,

yet they shut me in there without a candle.

Are you afraid now?

No.

It was cruel.

I think I shall never forget it.

What nonsense, Jane.

And is it that that makes you so miserable?

No.

How much I wish to reply fully to that question.

How difficult it was to frame my answer.

Well?

Children can feel, but they cannot analyze their feelings.

I am very unhappy.

Why?

Because a number of things.

Well, can you tell me some of them, Jane?

One is that I have no father or mother or brothers or sisters.

Well, you have a kind aunt and cousins.

But John Reid knocked me down and my aunt locked me in the red room.

Tell me, why did Bessie tell you to hold your tongue?

For fear I might tell you the truth.

Yes.

You have no relations of any kind?

I think not, sir.

None belonging to your father?

I don't know.

I asked aunt Reid once.

Yes.

She said I might have some poor, low-down relations called heir.

But she knew nothing of them.

And if you had such, would you like to go to them?

I reflected.

Poverty looks grim to grown people.

Still more so to children.

They have not much idea of respectable poverty.

They think only of ragged clothes, scanty food and rude manners.

Poverty for me was synonymous with degradation.

No.

I should not like to belong to poor people.

But not even if they were kind, do you?

I was not heroic enough to purchase Liberty at the price of caste.

But are they so poor?

Perhaps they are honest, industrious, working people.

I cannot tell.

Aunt Reid said that if I had any, they must be a begley set.

I should not like to go a begging.

Jane, would you like to go to school?

I scarcely knew what school was.

Bessie sometimes spoke of it as a place where young ladies

wore backboards and were expected to be exceedingly genteel.

But school also implied an entire separation from Gateshead Hall.

An entrance into a new life.

Well?

Yes.

I should indeed like to go to school.

I shall speak to Mrs. Reid.

Can you be patient, Jane?

I will try.

You must grow strong.

Your nerves have been too severely shaken.

This is the little girl respecting whom I applied to you, Mr. Brocklehurst.

Her size is small.

What is her age?

Ten years.

Your name, little girl?

Jane Eyre, sir.

Well, Jane Eyre, and are you a good child?

Impossible to reply in the affirmative.

My little world held a contrary opinion.

The less said on that subject, the better, Mr. Brocklehurst.

No sight so sad as that of a naughty child.

Do you know where the wicked go after death?

They go to hell, sir.

And what is hell?

A pit full of fire, sir.

And would you like to fall into that pit and burn there forever, child?

No, sir.

What must you do to avoid it?

I must keep in good health and not die.

But children younger than you die daily.

I buried a little child of five years old only yesterday.

A good little child whose soul is now in heaven.

It is to be feared the same could not be said of you were you to be called hence.

I hope that sigh is from the heart and that you repent of ever having been the

occasion of discomfort to your excellent benefactress.

Benefactress, said I inwardly.

They all call Mrs. Reed my benefactress.

If so, a benefactress is a disagreeable thing.

You say your prayers night and morning?

Yes, sir.

Do you read your Bible?

Yes, sometimes.

With your pleasure.

Are you fond of it?

Some parts.

I like the revelations and Daniel in the lion's den.

The Psalms.

I hope you like the Psalms.

No.

No?

But this is shocking.

I have a little boy younger than you and he knows six Psalms by heart.

And if you ask him which he would rather have, a

gingerbread nut to eat or a verse of a psalm to learn.

Oh, the verse of a psalm, says he.

Angels sing Psalms and I wish to be a little angel here below.

And then he gets two nuts to recompense him for his infant piety.

Psalms are not interesting.

That proves your wicked heart.

You must pray to God to change it, to give you a new and clean one.

How would he perform that operation?

Mr. Brocklehurst, as I intimated in my letter, this child

has not quite the character and disposition I could wish.

I remember your words perfectly, ma'am.

A tendency to deceit.

Precisely.

I should wish therefore that the school were to keep a special eye upon her.

I say this in your hearing, Jane, so that you may not attempt to impose on good, Mr.

Brocklehurst.

She shall be watched, Mrs. Reid.

Have no fear.

I will speak to the superintendent, Miss Temple, about her.

I wish her to be brought up in a manner suiting her low prospects.

And as for the vacations, she will,

with your Your decisions are perfectly judicious, ma'am.

She shall be kept humble, as are all the pupils at Lowood.

Humility is a Christian grace, and one peculiarly

appropriate to the orphan girls within my charge.

I have therefore directed that special attention

be bestowed on its cultivation among them.

I have studied how best to mortify among them the worldly sentiment of pride.

Only the other day, I had a pleasing instance of my success.

My second daughter, Augusta, went to visit the school with her mamma.

On her return, she said, Oh, dear papa, how quiet and plain all the girls at

Lowood are, with their hair combed behind their ears and their long pinafores.

They look almost like poor people's children.

And then she said, You know, they looked at my dress

and mamma's as if they'd never seen a silk gown before.

Exactly.

Had I searched all England over, I could not have

found a system more fitting a girl like Jane Eyre.

Now, Miss Reed, may I take my leave of you?

Goodbye, Mr. Brocklehurst.

Little girl, this book is titled The Child's Guide.

Read it with prayer, especially that part containing an account of the awfully

sudden death of Martha Grigg, a naughty child addicted to falsehood.

Good day, mamma.

Mr. Brocklehurst.

You may go, Jane.

Speak, I had to.

I had been trodden on severely and must turn.

But how?

What strength had I to dart retaliation at my antagonist?

I gathered my energies.

I'm not deceitful.

If I were, I would say I loved you, but I don't.

Jane.

Jane.

And this book about the liar, you may give it to

your children, for it is they who tell lies, not I.

Have you more to say?

I had and I did.

And as I did, my soul expanded.

Yes.

Yes.

You think I can do without one bit of love or kindness, but I cannot live so.

I will never call you aunt again.

And if anybody asks me how you treated me, I will say the very thought of you makes

me sick, because you treated me with miserable cruelty.

That is the truth, Mrs. Reed.

Jane, you are passionate.

Go to the nursery.

There's a dear.

Go and lie down a little.

I'm not your dear.

I cannot lie down.

Send me to school soon, Mrs. Reed, for I cannot live here.

I shall, child.

I shall indeed.

I was left there alone, winner of the field.

But a child cannot quarrel with its elders without experiencing

afterwards the pang of remorse and the chill of reaction.

Silence and reflection soon showed me the madness of my

conduct and the dreariness of my hated and hating position.

Would I ever be free?

But then shall I know, even as also I am known, and now abideth faith, hope,

and charity.

But the greatest of these is charity.

To your seats.

Miss Miller, I have a word to address to the pupils.

You had this morning a breakfast which you could not eat.

You must be hungry.

I have ordered that a lunch of bread and cheese shall be served to all.

Monitors of the first class, fetch the globe.

Form classes.

We will start with a six times table.

1, 6, 6, 2, 6, 12, 3, 6, 18, 4, 6, 24, 5, 6, 13...

Burns,

I insist on your holding your head up.

I will not have you perform in that attitude.

Air, 12 sixes.

10, 6, 6, 8, 11, 6, 10.

I am sorry.

72.

Good.

Seven times.

1, 77.

Burns, 2, 7, 4, 15, 9, 3, 7, 2, 1, 7, 4, 15, 9, 3, 7, 2, 1, 7,

4, 15, 9, 3, 7, 2, 1, 7, 4, 15, 9, 3, 7, 2, 1, 7, 4, 15, 1, 7,

4, 15, 9, 3, 7, 2, 1, 7, 4, 15, 9, 3, 7, 2, 1, 7, 4, 15, We are moving

northward so the Equatorial currents flow westward creating a circular movement with

a scarcely moving centre known as the Sargasso Sea.

Sargasso Sea is a relatively still tract in the central area.

And the officials of the Inquisition from the Inquisitor

General downward were the paid servants of the Crown.

Dirty, disagreeable girl.

I doubt if even the rod can correct you of your slatternly habits.

Is your book interesting?

I like it.

You may look at it.

It looked dull to my trifling taste.

Closely printed and without one picture.

No fairies in it?

No.

No genie?

No strange spirits?

Why is it called Lowood Institution and not Lowood School?

Well, because it's a charitable institution for educating orphans.

Do they keep us for nothing?

Oh, no.

We pay or our friends pay fifteen pounds a year for each of us.

Then why are we called charity children?

Well, because fifteen pounds a year is not enough for board and teaching.

The deficiency is supplied by benevolent-minded

ladies and gentlemen from here and in London.

Who is Naomi Brocklehurst?

She's the mother of the gentleman who's treasurer and manager of this establishment.

Then this house does not belong to the lady who wears a watch and who gave us

bread and cheese when the porridge was burnt.

To Miss Temple?

No, I wish it did.

She has to answer to Mr. Brocklehurst for all she does.

He buys all our food and all our clothes.

But we make our own.

And I am still hungry.

Yes.

Is Mr. Brocklehurst a good man?

He's a clergyman and is said to do a great deal of good.

Miss Miller, Miss Gatchard, Miss Temple, I trust we shall find all in order.

At her last visit, as I recall, there was an

irregularity respecting superfluous blankets.

You countermanded the order for them, sir.

The girls have since shivered for it.

Souls, Miss Temple, souls, not mortal flesh.

Mrs. Brocklehurst?

What is your name, besides Burns?

Helen.

I'm Jane.

Are you happy here?

You ask rather too many questions.

I've given you enough answers for the present.

Now I want to read.

Why did you let Miss Gatchard hit you like that?

It was cruel.

She is severe.

She dislikes my thoughts.

She struck me.

I'd resist.

I'd break the rod under her nose.

Probably you'd do nothing of the sort.

But if you did, Mr. Brocklehurst would expel you from the school.

It's far better to endure patiently a slight, which nobody feels but yourself,

than to commit a hasty action whose evil

consequences will extend to all connected with you.

Besides, the Bible bids us return good for evil.

But to be singled out for punishment before so many people, I could not bear it.

It would be your duty to bear it if you could not avoid it.

Who introduced this innovation?

A lunch of bread and cheese?

I did, sir.

The breakfast was so ill-prepared, my pupils could not eat it.

I dared not allow them to remain fasting until dinner time.

But, madam, you are aware that my plan in bringing up these girls is not to accustom

them to luxury, but to render them self-denying.

The accidental spoiling of a meal ought not to be neutralized

by replacing the comfort lost with something more delicate.

A brief address on such an occasion would not be mistimed, wherein a judicious

instructor would refer to the sufferings of the primitive Christians, the torments

of the martyrs, the exhortations of our blessed Lord Himself, calling upon His

disciples to take up their cross and follow Him, and

warning us that man shall not live by bread alone.

Oh, madam, why did you not remind them of His very words?

If ye suffer hunger and thirst for my sake, happy are ye.

Miss Temple,

that girl with curled hair, red hair, ma'am, curled all over.

She is Julius VII, sir.

Her hair curls naturally.

Naturally?

We are not to conform to nature here.

I desire her to be arranged closely, modestly, plainly.

Tell the senior class to direct their faces to the wall.

Turn, girls.

My dear, the girl's hair.

I shall send a barber tomorrow.

All these top knots must be cut off.

But, sir... All turn.

Madam, my mission here is to modify these girls the lusts of the flesh, teaching

them to clothe themselves with shame-facedness

and not with the braided excrescences of Babylon.

We all have a master to serve whose kingdom is not of this world.

A new pupil, I perceive.

A careless girl.

I have a word to say respecting her.

Do not be afraid, Jane.

I saw it was an accident.

Let the child who broke her slates come forward.

Fetch that stool.

Place the child upon it.

Ladies, Miss Temple, teachers and children, you see this girl?

She is yet young.

Who would believe that the evil one has already found a servant and an agent in her?

Yet such, I grieve to say it, is the case.

Children, it is my melancholy duty to warn you to be on your guard against her.

Shun her example.

Avoid her company.

Teachers, watch her.

Weigh well her words.

Scrutinize her actions.

Because, because, my tongue falters as I tell it, this girl is a liar.

There was I then, mounted aloft.

I who had said I could not bear the shame of public reproof.

This I learned from her benefactress.

A pious and charitable lady who adopted her in her

orphan state and reared her as her own, with her own.

And how did this girl repay her kindness?

With an ingratitude so dreadful that at last her patroness was forced to separate

her from her own young ones lest her vicious example contaminate their purity.

She is here to be healed by correction.

Let her stand on that stool half an hour longer.

And let no one speak to her for the remainder of the day.

Come, ladies.

Nothing sustained me.

Left to myself.

I abandoned myself.

I had meant to be so good and to do so much at Lowood.

To earn respect.

To win affection.

Jane?

Come, drink something.

I could not yet abate my agitation, though I tried hard.

Helen remained as silent as an Indian.

I was the first who spoke.

Helen, why do you stay with a girl?

Everybody believes it's a liar.

Everybody, Jane?

Why, only this small school in the whole great world has heard you called so.

I don't care about the world.

When the people here despise me.

You're mistaken, they don't.

Probably not one person in the school despises or dislikes you.

Many, I'm sure, pity you.

How can they?

After what Mr Brocklehurst said?

Mr Brocklehurst is not a god, Jane.

He's not even a great and admired man.

This little liked you.

He never took steps to make himself liked.

Had he treated you as a favorite, you'd have found enemies.

Now come, drink your coffee while it's still warm.

Besides, if all the world hated you and believed you wicked

when you were innocent, you'd not be without friends.

But I would be.

Nobody would love me.

I'd rather die than not be loved.

Hush, Jane.

You think too much of the love of human beings.

Besides this earth, and besides the race of men,

there is an invisible world and a kingdom of spirits.

That world is round us, it's everywhere.

And those spirits, which are angels, watch us, guard us.

They recognize our innocence if innocent we be.

And God waits only the separation of spirit from flesh to crown us with a full reward.

Why then should we ever sink, overwhelmed with distress, when life is so soon passed

and death so certain an entrance to happiness, to glory?

Is it all over?

I came on purpose to find you, Jane.

I want you to come to my room.

And as Helen Burns is with you, she may come too.

Have you cried your grief away?

I'm afraid I shall never do that.

Why?

Because I've been wrongly accused.

And you, ma'am, and everybody else will now think me wicked.

We shall think you what you prove yourself to be, my child.

Continue to act as a good girl, and you will satisfy me.

Shall I?

Come.

I want you to tell me about the lady who sent you here.

So Mr. Brocklehurst was mistaken when he implied

Mrs. Reed had adopted you of her own accord.

My uncle made her promise to keep me just before he died.

Or so the servants told me.

Well, Jane, I shall write to this Mr. Lloyd your apothecary, and if his reply

agrees with your statements here tonight, you

shall be publicly cleared from every imputation.

To me, Jane, you are clear now.

As I'm sure you are with Helen.

So now you have two people who believe you.

Well, Helen, have you coughed much today?

Not quite so much, I think, ma'am.

Any pain in your chest?

It is a little better.

I, in my ignorance, was puzzled by her concern for Helen's cough.

Have you enjoyed the book I lent you, Helen?

Restless, ma'am.

It has impressed me.

Dr. Johnson's stoicism is number, but very grand.

Jane did not like the look of it because it had no pictures.

Jane is yet young.

I then recalled a line or two from a poem of his.

Yes?

Must helpless man in innocent sedate roll darkling down the torrent of his fate?

I hope Dr. Johnson denied that idea, does he?

Oh, yes, yes, he says, inquirers cease, petitions yet remain, which heaven may

hear nor deem religion vain, still raise for good the supplicating voice,

but leave to heaven the measure and the choice.

And so we shall.

Bless you, my children.

And inquiry having been made into the allegations against Jane Eyre,

she is completely cleared from every computation.

Jane, I am very glad.

And I am glad too, Jane.

Come along.

Monitors for the books and form classes.

Thus relieved of a grievous burden, I set to work afresh.

I toiled hard.

My memory improved with practice.

Exercise sharpened my wits.

I learned the first two tenses of the verb etre and sketched my first cottage,

whose walls, by the way, out-rivaled and sloped those of the leaning tower of Pisa.

And soon I would not have exchanged Lowood with all

its privations for Gateshead and its daily luxuries.

Can I help?

Oh, no, not Julia Seven as well.

Help her, Miss Gatchett, of course.

They all seem half-starved.

The prime cause of the infection, probably.

No doubt about it.

Doctor!

Come along now.

We'll get you in bed.

It's only too clear.

The wretched food, the fetid water in which it's

prepared, the threadbare clothing of the pupils.

These are the causes, sir, and you the provider of them.

Miss Gatchett!

Miss Temple!

It's absolutely scandalous.

Indeed it is.

Will you tell him?

Yes, I will.

We shall recommend that a committee is formed to manage this school, Mr Brocklehurst.

A committee of persons with more enlarged and sympathizing minds than yours, sir.

We wish you good day.

Good day, sir.

Helen?

Why have you come?

It's late.

I thought they were mistaken.

She's not going to die.

She could not speak so calmly if she were.

Have you come to bid me goodbye?

Are you going somewhere, Helen?

Are you going home?

Yes, to my last home.

No.

No, you mustn't.

The other girls are recovering now.

But I have consumption, not typhus fever, Jane.

Jane, your feet are bare.

Come.

Lie down and cover yourself with my coat.

I'm very happy, Jane.

When you hear I'm dead, you must be sure and not grieve.

By dying young, I shall escape great sufferings.

I have not qualities or talents to make my way very well in the world.

Where are you going to?

Do you know?

I believe.

I have faith.

I'm going to God.

Where is God?

What is God?

My maker is yours.

I rely implicitly on his power and confide wholly in his goodness.

How comfortable I am.

I feel I could sleep.

But don't leave me, Jane.

I like to have you near me.

I'll stay.

I'll stay.

I learned later that Miss Temple on returning at dawn had found me,

my face against Helen Burns' shoulder, my arms around her neck.

I was asleep.

And Helen was dead.

Hitherto I have recorded in detail the events of my insignificant existence.

This is not to be a regular autobiography.

I am only bound to invoke memory, where I know her responses will possess interest.

Therefore I now pass over a space of eight years, almost, in silence.

Six years as a pupil, two as a teacher at Lowood.

I desire Liberty.

And for Liberty I uttered a prayer.

It seemed scattered on the wind.

I abandoned it and framed a humbler supplication.

For change.

That petition too seemed swept off into vague space.

Then I cried half-desperate.

Grant me at least a new servitude.

Shall I have the pleasure of seeing Miss Fairfax this evening?

Miss Fairfax?

Oh, you mean Miss Varon?

Varon is the name of your future pupil.

She's Mr. Rochester's ward.

Mr. Rochester?

But who is he?

The owner of the hall.

Did you not know he was called Rochester?

I thought the hall belonged to you, Mrs.

Fairfax, since you answered my advertisement.

To me?

Why, bless you, child, what an idea.

I'm just the housekeeper.

Though to be sure, I am distantly related to the Rochester's on the mother's side.

Thank you, John.

This is your room, Miss Eyre.

I hope you'll be comfortable.

You must be tired after travelling all day.

Yes, I am a little.

Good evening, Grace.

Good evening, ma'am.

Good night, Miss Eyre.

Oh, good night.

My prayer for a new servitude had been granted, and I was grateful.

By the expedient of placing an advertisement in the county newspaper,

I had secured a competency as a governess.

My pupil was to be one little girl of nine years, and my salary, 30 pounds per annum.

The place was called Thornfield, in Yorkshire.

I considered myself independent at last.

The family has always been respected here.

Almost all the land in this neighbourhood, as far

as you can see, has belonged to the Rochester's.

Time out of mind.

Leaving his land out of the question.

Do you like him?

Is Mr. Rochester liked for himself, in short?

What is his character?

Unimpeachable, I suppose.

He is rather peculiar, perhaps.

In what way?

I don't know.

One cannot be sure if he is in jest or in earnest.

But it's of no consequence.

He is a gentleman.

Oh, here is your charge, Miss Eyre.

Mr. Rochester commissioned me to find her a governess.

Adele was born on the continent.

When she first came here, she could speak no English.

Good morning, Miss Adela.

This is the lady who is to teach you.

I am pleased to meet you, Miss Adele.

She speaks French well, Sophie.

What is your name, Miss Adele?

My name is Jane Eyre.

Eyre?

Oh, I cannot say it.

Adela, you must be very good with Miss Eyre.

It is Mr. Rochester's wish that you obey her in everything.

I can speak to you as I speak to Mr. Rochester.

You too, Sophie.

Is Mr. Rochester often at home?

He travels a great deal.

His visits here are rare, always sudden, unexpected.

I had volunteered to carry a letter for Mrs. Fairfax to the

village, but had lingered by the gate till the moon Rose.

Now, as I heard a horse approach, I remembered certain childish tales of a

north of England spirit called a guy trash, which in

the form of a horse or a large dog hunted solitary ways.

But the horse had a rider.

Nothing ever rode the guy trash.

The spell was broken at once.

What the deuce is to do now?

You great brute, how the devil did you... Get away, pilot!

Can I do anything, sir?

You can stand to one side.

If you are hurt, I can fetch help.

Who the deuce provided you?