Original subtitles

Mr Rochester had already departed and I did not know it.

It's a mercy he wasn't burnt where he lay.

It's a wonder the master wake nobody.

There she sat.

Her commonplace features betraying no Mark of a woman who had attempted murder.

Good morning Miss.

Good morning Grace.

I will put her to the test I thought.

Such absolute impenetrability is past comprehension.

What has happened here?

Master was reading in bed last night.

He fell asleep with the candle lit and the curtains got on fire.

But luckily a walk just in time.

And contrives to quench the flames with a jug of water.

Strange.

Did he wake no one?

Did no one hear the disturbance?

The servants sleep too far off Miss.

Mrs Fairfax's room and yours are the nearest.

Did you not hear anything?

I should say you were a light sleeper Miss.

Yes I did and at first I thought it was his dog Pilot.

Pilot cannot laugh.

It's hardly likely Master would have laughed when in such danger Miss.

You must have been dreaming.

I was not.

You did not think to open your door and look into the gallery.

She was cross-questioning me and I realized if she discovered I knew her

guilt she could well play off some of her malignancy upon my person.

On the contrary I bolted my door.

You do not always do that.

Hitherto I have not.

I was not aware of any danger to be dreaded but in future I shall.

A wise precaution Miss.

This neighborhood is as quiet as any I've known and I've never heard of the hall

being attacked by robbers though there are hundreds

of pounds worth of plate here as is well known.

But I have always thought it best to err on

the safe side and a door is soon flustened.

Her self-possession struck me dumb.

Such hypocrisy verged upon the miraculous or the lunatic.

Ah Grace.

Good morning Miss Jane.

Grace the servant's dinner is ready.

Are you coming down?

No thank you ma'am.

If Cook will put my pint of Porter and a bit

of pudding on a tray I'll take it upstairs.

Leah.

You look flushed Miss Jane.

Are you feverish?

No I'm perfectly well.

Grace Poole told you of the fire?

Yes indeed she did.

I thank Providence Mr. Rochester awoke in time.

The mist is cleared.

He'll have a favorable day for his journey.

Journey?

Is Mr. Rochester gone anywhere?

I did not know he was out.

He set off the moment he had breakfasted.

He's gone to Mr. Eshton's place.

The Lees.

Ten miles beyond Millcote.

Quite a party is assembled there I believe.

Lord Ingram, Sir George... Do you expect him back tonight?

No.

Nor tomorrow either.

Oh Mr. Rochester is a general favorite in society.

The ladies are very fond of him.

Though you would not think that his appearance was

calculated to recommend him particularly in their eyes?

There are ladies at the Lees.

Of course.

There'll be Mrs. Eshton and her three daughters.

The Honorable Blanche and Mary Ingram.

Blanche is the belle of every ball in the county.

She's greatly admired.

Oh indeed.

She's so tall, so graceful.

Raven hair with eyes as brilliant as her jewels and so accomplished.

She plays and sings superbly.

And Miss Ingram is not yet married.

No no of course she could not be.

Are you sure you're not feverish Miss Jane?

Oh no.

I wonder no wealthy gentleman has taken a fancy to her.

Mr. Rochester for instance.

He is rich is he not?

Oh yes but there is a considerable difference in age.

Mr. Rochester is nearly 40.

Miss Ingram but 25.

Already I pronounced judgment upon myself.

A greater fool than Jane Eyre had never breathed the breath of life.

To have imagined myself a favorite of his.

I should not be surprised if Mr. Rochester went straight

from the Lees to London and from there to the continent.

He has often quitted Thornfield quite as abruptly

and not shown his face here again for a year.

Had a more fantastic idiot than I ever surfeited herself

on sweet lies or swallowed poison as if it were nectar.

To have derived pleasure from the occasional equivocal tokens of preference

shown by a gentleman to a dependent, a governess.

To have imagined love where there was mere carelessness.

To let it kindle.

I made a vow and in a fortnight I had accomplished the

wholesome discipline to which I forced my feelings to submit.

The sentence I pronounced upon myself for my blind puppyish imaginings towards Mr.

Rochester was to paint two portraits.

One of a governess.

Disconnected, poor, and plain.

And the other, this other I shall call Blanche.

An accomplished lady of rank.

Bear, come!

Mr. Rochester and all the ladies!

Adele, how many times have I told you to knock?

Oh, very well.

We'll go and see them coming from the gallery.

Oh, it is just as I remember it.

Clearly you do not believe in change, Signior Idoade.

Neither of the heart's affections nor of places, Donna Bianca.

I must go now.

No, Adele.

Mrs. Fairfax, Mrs. Eshton, the Honorable Miss Blanche Ingram.

It's a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Eshton.

My housekeeper will show you to your rooms.

There you are, Miss Jane.

Oh, what a to-do!

The house hasn't seen such company for years.

Oh, I'm flashed, as they say.

Still, now that they are all gone down, I can rest a little.

You are requested in the drawing room after dinner.

And Adele?

I need not go, surely.

Well, I did observe to Mr. Rochester that you were unused to company.

Yes, indeed, I am.

And that I did not think you would like appearing before so gay a party.

But he replied in his quick way, you know.

Nonsense.

If she objects, tell her it is my particular wish.

And if she resists, say that I will come and fetch her.

Shall you be there?

Oh, no.

I pleaded off and he agreed.

But I have to go.

He was determined you should.

If you wish to avoid making a formal entrance, which is quite the most

disagreeable part of the business, you must slip into the drawing room while

they are all at dinner and choose your seat in any nook you like.

Is that him?

Is that him?

No, Louisa, I never liked him one jot.

You did?

No, I did not like him.

He's a coarse fellow.

She did, did she not, Mama?

Who, dear?

John Reed of Gateshead.

Did you not hear, Mama?

Papa said that we... Oh, my dear, I stopped listening to your father years ago.

When the father died, there was no restraining

hand on the indulgences of the young Duke.

The bachelors' rustic drawing room.

It seems, Mrs Dent, you have not sufficiently studied the science of botany.

Not at all.

I simply like flowers, especially wild ones.

You are very welcome, Madame.

And you, my little one.

But Mrs Dent, how can one like what one is too ignorant to make?

Blanche, you're confusing Mrs Dent.

No, but how can one?

I must hear.

Well, I cannot tell.

One would know if one referred a Lily to a dandelion.

Isn't she a love of the child?

Quite a little puppet.

And such a pretty dress.

Merci beaucoup, Madame.

I confess I regarded Blanche Ingram with special interest.

First, to see whether she resembled at all

the imagined miniature I had painted of her.

In many points, she did.

And secondly, it will out to discover if she was such

as I should fancy lightly to suit Mr Rochester's taste.

I could not tell.

But to me, she appeared remarkably self-conscious.

Where are the gentlemen?

Cannot stand female company.

So insipid.

Mr Rochester said they would be out of men.

A piece of horse flesh.

You refuse to wager, Ingram?

Well, at such odds, who would not?

Miss Eshton, I dare swear your colour has risen.

Has Miss Louisa been trailing you?

Oh, a little.

Give thanks you've not fallen prey to my sister Blanche.

She's a cruel tease.

An ill-considered reform so which I fear the Tories will live to repent.

What say you, Rochester?

I detest politics.

The calculated clashings of opposed party interests.

Rutting's tags battling for the doubtful favours of a docile public.

Senor Eduardo.

Donna Bianca.

I thought you detested children.

Usually, yes.

How did you come to take upon such a little doll as that?

When did you pick her up?

She was left on my hands.

You should have sent her to school.

I could not afford to, Donna Bianca.

Really?

No, you tease.

I suppose you have a governess for her.

But I saw her person just now.

Is she gone?

No, she's still there.

I would have thought it quite as expensive.

I've not considered the subject.

No, you men never do.

Oh, you should hear Mama on the subject of governesses.

Mary and I have had a dozen.

Half of them detestable and the rest ridiculous.

All incubi.

Were they not, Mama?

Did you speak, my own?

Of governesses, Mama.

Oh, don't, dearest.

I've suffered martyrdoms from their incompetency and caprice.

We do have Miss Adele's governess here with us.

Darfee?

Better hear what she will.

It may do her good.

I'm a judge of physiognomy.

And in her, I see all the faults of her class.

And what are they, madam?

Ask Blanche.

She's as good a judge as I am.

I have only one word to say of the whole tribe.

They're a nuisance.

Lacrimose, low-spirited creatures.

I see.

Signore Wado, I move the introduction of a new topic.

And I second it, Donna Bianca.

Are you in good voice tonight?

If you command it.

Here, then, is a corsaire song.

Know that I dote on corsaires.

Banditi.

Any man with the devil in him.

Oh, young men of today, they're such puny things.

They're not fit to stir a step beyond pass-park gates.

Nor go so far without Mama's permission.

Creatures so absorbed with care of their own pretty

looks, as if a man had anything to do with beauty.

As if loveliness were not the special prerogative of woman.

I Grant an ugly woman is a blot on the face of creation.

But as to the gentlemen, let them possess only strength to hunt, shoot and fight.

The rest is not worth a filip.

Do you know, Senor Eduardo?

How could I not, since it was you who taught me it?

Then sing.

Conspirito.

My boat's by the tower, my box in the bay.

And both must be gone near the dawn of the day.

The moon's in her shroud, but to guide thee afar.

On the deck of the dairings, the love-lighted star.

Then wake, lady, wake, I am waiting for thee,

and this night or never my bride thou shalt be.

Then wake, lady, wake, I am waiting for thee,

and this night or never my bride thou shalt be.

Jane?

Why did you not come and speak to me?

You seemed engaged, sir.

I did not wish to disturb you.

What have you been doing during my absence?

Nothing in particular.

I've been teaching Adele as usual.

And getting a good deal paler than you were as I saw it first sight.

Did you take cold that night you half drowned me?

Not in the least.

Return to the drawing room.

You're deserting too early.

I'm tired, sir.

I'm depressed.

I'm not.

But I affirm you are.

So much depressed that a few more words would bring tears.

Indeed, they're there shining.

If I had time, I would know what this means.

Tonight I excuse you.

But not tomorrow, nor the next night.

Now go and send Sophie for Adele.

Good night.

Despite all intentions, all the dictates of common sense, I had learned to love Mr.

Rochester.

That he would marry Blanche Ingram was certain, however.

Though why was less so?

For family, perhaps political reasons.

But he had not given her his love.

That I knew.

Knowledge has.

no power to lessen pain.

We should have taken our excursion to view a few wretched gypsies.

In the rain, my Lily flower.

Well, anything rather than this tedium.

Why don't you play billiards with the others, dearest?

Please, mama.

And Mr. Mason has arrived, ma'am.

Well, if he's a gentleman, show him in.

It appears I come at an inopportune time, madam, when my friend Mr.

Rochester is away on business.

He returns tonight.

I trust I may presume therefore to install myself here till he returns.

I'm sure you may.

I come from a very long journey.

From Spanish town in Jamaica.

My daughter, Miss Ingram.

Give her, sir.

We must rest for dinner.

Come, my dear.

I cannot persuade her to go away, m'lady.

A gypsy woman.

Dismiss her.

At once.

These low impostors.

I insist, I wish to.

My angel, I cannot countenance any such inconsistent proceeding.

Oh, you can and you will.

I have a curiosity to hear my fortune told.

I shall go first.

She looks such a rough one, ma'am.

A real tinkler.

Black as a crock.

Go, blockhead.

Miss Ingram, I think perhaps I ought to look in upon her before any of the ladies go.

But the footman said she would see no gentleman,

and of the ladies only the young and single.

Even so?

Even so, I am determined to hear my fortune told.

Had we gone out this afternoon, I would have anyway.

My darling, recollect.

I beg of you.

I do.

I recollect all you can suggest.

But I will have my way.

Will you go, Mary?

From my part, I'd never dare venture.

Something of a masquerade, I suspected.

From the moment this gypsy woman's presence was announced.

And did Rochester like the West Indies?

Scarcely at all.

Burning heats and the rainy seasons all disagreed with this Constitution.

But this was some years back, you say?

He'd only just come of age, yes.

What did she say?

Is she a real gypsy?

Please don't press upon me.

I've seen a vagabond.

She has practiced her trade in hackneyed fashion.

My whim is gratified.

And now I suggest that Mr. Eshton and Colonel Dent put her out.

But we have not seen her yet.

Approach, Childer.

Come on, Mary.

Go on, Louisa.

But Mar, she told her son she knows all about him.

I am sure she is not quite right.

If you please, Miss, the gypsy declares that there's

another single lady who has not been to him yet.

I thought it must be you.

What shall I tell you?

I will go, by all means.

If you like, Miss, I'll wait in the hall.

If she frightens you, just call and I'll come in.

Oh, no, Sam.

I'm not in the least afraid.

Nor was I.

But I was a good deal interested.

Do not keep me long.

The fire scorches me.

The eye is favourable.

It is soft and full of feeling.

As to the mouth, it would like to laugh more.

Indeed, it ought to.

While the forehead declares, reason sits firm and holds the reins, she will not let

her feelings burst away and hurry her to wild chasms.

You do not speak like a gypsy, Mother.

You have no faith.

Your impudence said so.

Your fortune is yet doubtful.

Chance has meted you a measure of happiness.

It depends on yourself to stretch out your hand and take it up.

You smile at my jargon.

And at your voice, Sir.

What?

And the ring on your hand also.

You witch!

Off!

Ye lendings!

There are strings in a knot.

Help me, Jane.

Break it, Sir.

Well, did you like my charade?

Was it well carried out?

You managed very well with the other ladies.

But not with you?

No.

You did not act the character of a gypsy with me.

Did I not?

Whose then?

My own?

Oh, no.

Some unaccountable one.

Hmm.

And the others, what did they say about me?

That you knew everything about them.

Which of course you do.

And Miss Ingram, what did she say?

Say it is past 11 o'clock.

I must go.

No, stay!

I am not here, remember?

So we are free.

Oh, but Miss Ingram is expecting your return from business this evening.

What if she does?

Mr. Rochester, are you aware that a stranger has arrived since you left this morning?

What stranger?

I was expecting no one.

Is he gone?

No.

He said he has known you for many years and

would install himself here till you returned.

The devil he did.

Did he give his name?

As Mason, Sir.

Mason?

He comes from the West Indies, from Jamaica, I think.

Mason.

Well, you will, Sir.

Jane.

Jane!

Lean on me, Sir.

As I did before.

Mason.

Where is he now?

In the drawing room, Sir.

And the others?

What are they doing?

Laughing and talking.

They don't look grave or mysterious, as if they had heard something strange.

No.

They are full of jest and gaiety.

Jane, if all my guests came in a body and spat on me, what would you do?

I would turn them out of the room, if I could, Sir.

And if I went to them and they looked at me coldly, whispered and sneered behind my

back, and one by one dropped off and left me, what then?

Would you go with them?

I should have more pleasure in staying with you.

To comfort me?

As well as I could.

And if they laid you under a ban for adhering to me?

I should care nothing for that.

You dare censure for my sake?

As I would for any friend.

As you would too, I'm sure, Sir.

Go back now.

Step quietly after Mason.

Whisper that I'm returned and wish to see him here.

Then leave us.

Yes, Sir.

Well, Dick,

you bird of ill omen.

I had forgotten to draw my curtain, which I usually did.

The consequence was that when the moon, which was full and bright, came in her

course to that space in the sky opposite my casement,

her glorious gaze browsed me in the dead of night.

Her disc was silver-white, crystal-clear.

It was beautiful, but too solemn.

My pulse stopped.

My heart stood still.

My stretched arm was paralyzed.

The cry was not renewed.

But what being could have delivered such an utterance?

Jet, did you hear that?

Jet, keep calm.

I will raise Rochester.

I think it came from that direction over there.

Never mind, dear.

Mr. Rochester will tell us what it was.

I expect it was nothing.

Where the devil is Rochester, I cannot find him in his room.

What was it?

Here.

Be composed, all of you.

What awful event has taken place.

Speak.

Let us know what has happened.

All's right.

All's right.

But that cry...

A mere rehearsal of much ado about nothing.

Ladies, keep off or I shall wax dangerous!

A servant has had a nightmare, that is all.

She is a nervous, excitable person.

She construed her dream into an apparition and has taken a fit with fright.

Now, I must see you all back to your rooms.

For until the house is settled, she cannot be properly looked after.

Gentlemen, have the goodness to set the ladies the example.

Miss Ingram, I am sure you will not fail in evincing superiority to idle terrors.

Good night.

You'd better go back to bed, dear.

A servant's dream was merely an invention

Mr. Rochester had framed to pacify his guests.

I waited, for I knew not what.

For it seemed to me that some event must follow that strange cry.

Up and dressed.

Oh, I thought I might be wanted, sir.

Yes, come this way.

No, wait.

Have you a sponge?

Yes, sir.

And salts.

Voluntarily salts.

Yes.

Fetch them.

You don't turn sick at the sight of blood.

I think I shall not.

I've never been tried yet.

Give me your hand.

Warm and steady.

Good.

Come.

Wait.

Rochester.

Is there... Is there any immediate danger?

It's a mere scratch.

Bear up now.

Salts.

I'm going to fetch the surgeon myself, Big.

He'll be removed from here before morning.

Jane.

Sir?

I must leave you alone with this gentleman.

For an hour.

Maybe two.

Sponge the blood as it returns.

If he faints, use your salts.

And don't speak to him.

Dick.

It will be on peril of your life if you attempt to speak.

Open your mouth.

Say one word and I shall not answer for the consequences.

Remember, no conversation.

No.

What crime was this that lived incarnate in this sequestered mansion and could

neither be expelled nor subdued by its owner?

What creature was it that masked in an ordinary woman's face and shape,

utter the voice now of a mocking demon, then of a carrion seeking bird of prey,

and hardly separated from me but by a single door?

And this quiet stranger so commonplace.

How was he involved in the web of horror?

Not only cut by a knife, but teeth marks.

She...

She bit me.

She... swallowed me like a tigress.

You should have grappled with her at once.

Jane, fetch his cloak.

Hurry, Carter, hurry!

I must have him away from here before the house stirs.

She seemed so... so quiet at first.

I warned you it was folly to attempt the interview tonight and alone.

She sucked the blood.

She said she drained my heart.

Courage, man.

Never mind her gibberish.

Carter.

Ready.

I shall ride over in a day or two to see how he gets on.

Rochester.

Let her be taken care of.

Even if she... I do my best.

I have done and I will do.

Away with you!

Thought to God there was an end of all this.

Jane.

Sir?

Come with me.

Will you have a flower?

Thank you, sir.

Were you frightened when I left you alone with Mason?

Very.

I feared lest some... someone come from the inner room.

But I'd lock the door.

I should have been a careless Shepherd if I'd left

a lamb, my pet lamb, so near a wolf's den unguarded.

Will Grace Poole continue to live here, sir?

Yes.

And the danger you feared last night from Mr. Mason?

Is that now gone?

Not till he's out of England.

To live for me is to stand upon a crater crust, Jane.

But Mr. Mason seems a man easily led.

He would not defy you, surely?

No.

Not knowingly hurt me.

But unintentionally he might.

One careless word, Jane, could deprive me, if not of life, yet forever of happiness.

But tell him so, sir.

If I could do that simpleton, then where would the danger be?

You look puzzled.

I will puzzle you further.

You... You're my friend, are you not?

I like to serve you, sir, and obey you in all that is right.

Yes, in all that is right.

Yes.

You're implacable, Jane.

Properly so.

But suppose you're no longer a girl, well-reared and disciplined, but a wild

boy as I was, indulged from childhood upwards.

Imagine yourself in a remote foreign land.

Conceive that you commit there a capital error.

Mind, I do not say crime.

My word is error.

The results of which dog you all your life.

Suppose twenty world-weary years after you discover a stranger

whose goodness and true qualities revive you, regenerate you.

What then, sir?

Yes.

What then?

Is the wandering and sinful but repentant man

justified in overleaping an obstacle of custom?

A mere conventional impediment in order to attach to him

this gentle, gracious stranger who can work his reformation?

I think not, sir.

Salvation should never depend on a fellow creature, but on God.

But God ordains the instrument.

And I believe I have found the instrument for my cure.

in... in Miss Ingram.

Don't you think if I married her, she'd regenerate me with a vengeance?

She's a rare one.

Is she not, Jane?

You say nothing?

Yes, sir.

A deliberate silence, I see.

Bless me, there's Ingram and Linup already.

Go in by the shrubbery, through the wicket.

Mason got the start of you all this morning.

He was gone before sunrise.

Yes?

I dare say you hardly remember me, Miss.

Name is Leaven.

I lived coachman with Mrs. Reeder Gates at all.

Why, Robert, I remember you well.

How are you?

I live there still.

I remember you used to give me rides sometimes on Miss Giordiana's pony.

Oh, and how is Bessie?

You are married to Bessie?

Yes, Miss, she's very hearty.

Thank you.

And Mrs. Reed?

I hope no one is dead.

Mr. John died yesterday was a week in London.

And how does his mother bear it?

Well, that's why I've come, Miss.

The terrible news gave her a stroke.

She was three days without speaking.

But last Tuesday she asked for you, Miss.

For me?

You kept calling your name.

Mr. John's death was a suicide, Miss, you see.

It ruined his health and the estate.

Mrs. Reeder had been ill for some time before he...

with the worry of it.

She insists you come, Miss.

Bring Jane Eyre.

I must speak with her.

Keep saying it.

Go?

Where to go?

Gateshead Hall in Derbyshire, Sir.

Why?

To see a sick lady who was sent for me.

Her name is Reed.

Reed of Gateshead?

There was a magistrate called... It is his widow, Sir.

Mr. Reed was my uncle.

My mother's brother.

The deuce he was.

You always said you had no relations.

None that would own me.

Mr. Reed died and his wife cast me off.

Why?

Because I was poor and burdensome.

She disliked me.

Then leave her where she is.

It's nonsense, Jane, to go to such a person who cast you off.

But that was long ago, Sir, and she is dying, they think.

Her son, John Reed, committed suicide a week ago.

John Reed, yes.

Ingram was saying only yesterday.

One of the various rascals in town.

Sir, I could not be easy to neglect what may be Mrs. Reed's last wishes.

How long will you stay?

Promise me not more than a week.

I better not pass my word, Sir.

I might be obliged to break it.

You'll come back.

You'll not be induced under any pretext to take up residence with her.

No, Sir.

Must you think not?

Who goes with you?

You cannot travel so far alone.

Mrs. Reed has sent her coachman.

Is he to be trusted?

He has been with the family ten years, Sir.

Well... when do you want to go?

Early tomorrow.

You'll need money.

I've given you no salary yet.

How much have you in the world, Jane?

Five shillings, Sir.

There you are, Senor Eduardo.

I insist you play.

UN momento, Donna Bianca.

Surely you can deal with that person later, Mr. Rochester.

I am engaged, Miss Ingram.

I shall come to you when I'm at Liberty.

His manners scarcely seem that of a loving, prospective bridegroom.

Here.

Take your wages.

But that is fifty pounds, Sir.

You owe me but fifteen.

I have no change.

I don't want any change.

You know that.

I will not take it, Sir.

Obstinate.

Yes.

Right.

I better not give you all at once.

You may stay away three months.

There is ten.

Is that enough?

Plenty.

Plenty, Sir.

But now you owe me five.

Come back for it then.

I will be your banker.

Sir, there is another matter of business.

There is?

What?

You have as good as informed me that you're shortly to be married.

Yes.

In that case, I think Adele ought to go to school.

To?

To keep her out of my bride's way.

Yes.

There is sense in the suggestion.

Yes.

Adele must go to school.

And you, of course, must march straight to the devil.

I hope not, Sir.

But I must seek another situation.

Somewhere.

Of course.

Perhaps I should advertise, Sir.

You shall walk up the pyramids of Egypt at your peril, you advertise.

I wish I'd only given you a sovereign.

Give me back nine pounds, Jane.

I've a use for it.

And so have I, Sir.

You little niggered.

Just let me look at the money again.

No.

You are not to be trusted.

Hmm.

Jane, promise me not to advertise and I will seek a situation for you.

Is that a bargain?

Yes, Sir.

If you in your turn will promise that both Adele and I

shall be safe out of this house before your bride enters it.

Very well.

Shall you come down after dinner tonight?

No, Sir.

I must prepare for the journey.

Then we must say goodbye now.

For a little while.

Yes.

I suppose so.

And how do people perform that ceremony?

Teach me.

I'm not quite up to it.

They say farewell or any other form they prefer.

Then say it.

Farewell, Mr. Rochester.

For the present.

And what must I say?

The same.

Farewell, Ms. Eyre.

For the present.

Is that all?

Yes.

It seems stingy to my notions and dry and unfriendly.

If one shook hands.

No, that will not content me either.

Farewell, Jane.

Your back is to the door, Sir.

So it is.

Jane Eyre?

Jane Eyre?

You Jane Eyre?

I am.

Oh, fiend of a child.

Deceitful.

I was glad to get out of the house.

What did they do with her at Lowood?

The fever broke out there.

Many pupils died.

She did not die.

Oh, no.

I wish she had.

I wish she had.

Strange wish, Aunt Reed.

Aunt?

Who calls me Aunt?

I do.

Jane Eyre.

You sent for me.

Sent?

Why did I send?

She's dead.

I said she was dead.

Those eyes.

That forehead.

You're like Jane Eyre.

I wanted to see her.

I cannot move a limb.

I wronged Jane Eyre.

Are you she?

You're like her.

Yes, Aunt.

I am.

An unnatural child.

Go to my dressing case.

There's a letter.

Read it.

Read it to me.

Madam, will you have the goodness to send me the address of my niece?

Jane Eyre.

It is my intention to write shortly and desire her to come to Madeira.

Providence has blessed my labors to secure a competency.

And as I am unmarried and childless, I wish to adopt Jane Eyre during my life

and bequeath her at my death whatever I have to leave.

I am, Madam, most sincerely yours, John Eyre, Madeira.

But why did I not hear of this?

It is dated three years back.

And I disliked you too fixedly.

The fury you turned on me when you declared you

abhorred me, the worst of anyone in the world.

But I was a child.

So that I wrote that you were dead, dead of the fever at Lowood School.

Now, act as you please.

Expose my falsehood, if you will.

You were born, I think, to be my torment.

Many a time as a child I would have been happy to love you.

Now I long to be reconciled.

Kiss me, aren't we?

Never!

I hate Jane Eyre, a fiend of a child.

You should be dead!

And then, my falsehood.

would come true.

Poor, suffering woman.

It was too late for her to change her habitual frame of mind.

Living, she hated me.

And she died hating me.

A strange and solemn object was that corpse to me.

Her brow and lineaments wore yet the shape of her inexorable soul.

I gazed on it with gloom and pain.

A somber, tearless dismay at the fearfulness of death in such a form.

And to think how desperately I'd longed for love from her.