existence: to the first ten years of my life I have given almost as

many chapters. But this is not to be a regular autobiography: I am

only bound to invoke Memory where I know her responses will possess

some degree of interest; therefore I now pass a space of eight years

almost in silence: a few lines only are necessary to keep up the links

of connection.

   When the typhus fever had fulfilled its mission of devastation at

Lowood, it gradually disappeared from thence; but not till its

virulence and the number of its victims had drawn public attention

on the school. Inquiry was made into the origin of the scourge, and by

degrees various facts came out which excited public indignation in a

high degree. The unhealthy nature of the site; the quantity and

quality of the children's food; the brackish, fetid water used in

its preparation; the pupils' wretched clothing and accommodations- all

these things were discovered, and the discovery produced a result

mortifying to Mr. Brocklehurst, but beneficial to the institution.

   Several wealthy and benevolent individuals in the county subscribed

largely for the erection of a more convenient building in a better

situation; new regulations were made; improvements in diet and

clothing introduced; the funds of the school were intrusted to the

management of a committee. Mr. Brocklehurst, who, from his wealth

and family connections, could not be overlooked, still retained the

post of treasurer; but he was aided in the discharge of his duties

by gentlemen of rather more enlarged and sympathising minds: his

office of inspector, too, was shared by those who knew how to

combine reason with strictness, comfort with economy, compassion

with uprightness. The school, thus improved, became in time a truly

useful and noble institution. I remained an inmate of its walls, after

its regeneration, for eight years: six as pupil, and two as teacher;

and in both capacities I bear my testimony to its value and

importance.

   During these eight years my life was uniform: but not unhappy,

because it was not inactive. I had the means of an excellent education

placed within my reach; a fondness for some of my studies, and a

desire to excel in all, together with a great delight in pleasing my

teachers, especially such as I loved, urged me on: I availed myself

fully of the advantages offered me. In time I rose to be the first

girl of the first class; then I was invested with the office of

teacher; which I discharged with zeal for two years: but at the end of

that time I altered.

   Miss Temple, through all changes, had thus far continued

superintendent of the seminary: to her instruction I owed the best

part of my acquirements; her friendship and society had been my

continual solace; she had stood me in the stead of mother,

governess, and, latterly, companion. At this period she married,

removed with her husband (a clergyman, an excellent man, almost worthy

of such a wife) to a distant county, and consequently was lost to me.

   From the day she left I was no longer the same: with her was gone

every settled feeling, every association that had made Lowood in

some degree a home to me. I had imbibed from her something of her

nature and much of her habits: more harmonious thoughts: what seemed

better regulated feelings had become the inmates of my mind. I had

given in allegiance to duty and order; I was quiet; I believed I was

content: to the eyes of others, usually even to my own, I appeared a

disciplined and subdued character.

   But destiny, in the shape of the Rev. Mr. Nasmyth, came between

me and Miss Temple: I saw her in her travelling dress step into a

post-chaise, shortly after the marriage ceremony; I watched the chaise

mount the hill and disappear beyond its brow; and then retired to my

own room, and there spent in solitude the greatest part of the

half-holiday granted in honour of the occasion.

   I walked about the chamber most of the time. I imagined myself only

to be regretting my loss, and thinking how to repair it; but when my

reflections were concluded, and I looked up and found that the

afternoon was gone, and evening far advanced, another discovery dawned

on me, namely, that in the interval I had undergone a transforming

process; that my mind had put off all it had borrowed of Miss

Temple- or rather that she had taken with her the serene atmosphere

I had been breathing in her vicinity- and that now I was left in my

natural element, and beginning to feel the stirring of old emotions.

It did not seem as if a prop were withdrawn, but rather as if a motive

were gone: it was not the power to be tranquil which had failed me,

but the reason for tranquillity was no more. My world had for some

years been in Lowood: my experience had been of its rules and systems;

now I remembered that the real world was wide, and that a varied field

of hopes and fears, of sensations and excitements, awaited those who

had courage to go forth into its expanse, to seek real knowledge of

life amidst its perils.

   I went to my window, opened it, and looked out. There were the

two wings of the building; there was the garden; there were the skirts

of Lowood; there was the hilly horizon. My eye passed all other

objects to rest on those most remote, the blue peaks; it was those I

longed to surmount; all within their boundary of rock and heath seemed

prison-ground, exile limits. I traced the white road winding round the

base of one mountain, and vanishing in a gorge between two; how I

longed to follow it farther! I recalled the time when I had

travelled that very road in a coach; I remembered descending that hill

at twilight; an age seemed to have elapsed since the day which brought

me first to Lowood, and I had never quitted it since. My vacations had

all been spent at school: Mrs. Reed had never sent for me to

Gateshead; neither she nor any of her family had ever been to visit

me. I had had no communication by letter or message with the outer

world: school-rules, school-duties, school-habits and notions, and

voices, and faces, and phrases, and costumes, and preferences, and

antipathies- such was what I knew of existence. And now I felt that it

was not enough; I tired of the routine of eight years in one

afternoon. I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I

uttered a prayer; it seemed scattered on the wind then faintly

blowing. I abandoned it and framed a humbler supplication; for change,

stimulus: that petition, too, seemed swept off into vague space:

'Then,' I cried, half desperate, 'grant me at least a new servitude!'

   Here a bell, ringing the hour of supper, called me downstairs.

   I was not free to resume the interrupted chain of my reflections

till bedtime: even then a teacher who occupied the same room with me

kept me from the subject to which I longed to recur, by a prolonged

effusion of small talk. How I wished sleep would silence her. It

seemed as if, could I but go back to the idea which had last entered

my mind as I stood at the window, some inventive suggestion would rise

for my relief.

   Miss Gryce snored at last; she was a heavy Welsh-woman, and till

now her habitual nasal strains had never been regarded by me in any

other light than as a nuisance; to-night I hailed the first deep notes

with satisfaction; I was debarrassed of interruption; my

half-effaced thought instantly revived.

   'A new servitude! There is something in that,' I soliloquised

(mentally, be it understood; I did not talk aloud). 'I know there

is, because it does not sound too sweet; it is not like such words

as Liberty, Excitement, Enjoyment: delightful sounds truly; but no

more than sounds for me; and so hollow and fleeting that it is mere

waste of time to listen to them. But Servitude! That must be matter of

fact. Any one may serve: I have served here eight years; now all I

want is to serve elsewhere. Can I not get so much of my own will? Is

not the thing feasible? Yes- yes- the end is not so difficult; if I

had only a brain active enough to ferret out the means of attaining

it.'

   I sat up in bed by way of arousing this said brain: it was a chilly

night; I covered my shoulders with a shawl, and then I proceeded to

think again with all my might.

   'What do I want? A new place, in a new house, amongst new faces,

under new circumstances: I want this because it is of no use wanting

anything better. How do people do to get a new place? They apply to

friends, I suppose: I have no friends. There are many others who

have no friends, who must look about for themselves and be their own

helpers; and what is their resource?'

   I could not tell: nothing answered me; I then ordered my brain to

find a response, and quickly. It worked and worked faster: I felt

the pulses throb in my head and temples; but for nearly an hour it

worked in chaos; and no result came of its efforts. Feverish with vain

labour, I got up and took a turn in the room; undrew the curtain,

noted a star or two, shivered with cold, and again crept to bed.

   A kind fairy, in my absence, had surely dropped the required

suggestion on my pillow; for as I lay down, it came quietly and

naturally to my mind:- 'Those who want situations advertise; you

   'How? I know nothing about advertising.'

   Replies rose smooth and prompt now:-

   'You must enclose the advertisement and the money to pay for it

under a cover directed to the editor of the Herald; you must put it,

the first opportunity you have, into the post at Lowton; answers

must be addressed to J. E., at the post-office there; you can go and

inquire in about a week after you send your letter, if any are come,

and act accordingly.'

   This scheme I went over twice, thrice; it was then digested in my

mind; I had it in a clear practical form: I felt satisfied, and fell

asleep.

   With earliest day, I was up: I had my advertisement written,

enclosed, and directed before the bell rang to rouse the school; it

ran thus:-

   'A young lady accustomed to tuition' (had I not been a teacher

two years?) 'is desirous of meeting with a situation in a private

family where the children are under fourteen' (I thought that as I was

barely eighteen, it would not do to undertake the guidance of pupils

nearer my own age). 'She is qualified to teach the usual branches of a

good English education, together with French, Drawing, and Music'

(in those days, reader, this now narrow catalogue of

accomplishments, would have been held tolerably comprehensive).

   This document remained locked in my drawer all day: after tea, I

asked leave of the new superintendent to go to Lowton, in order to

perform some small commissions for myself and one or two of my

fellow-teachers; permission was readily granted; I went. It was a walk

of two miles, and the evening was wet, but the days were still long; I

visited a shop or two, slipped the letter into the post-office, and

came back through heavy rain, with streaming garments, but with a

relieved heart.

   The succeeding week seemed long: it came to an end at last,

however, like all sublunary things, and once more, towards the close

of a pleasant autumn day, I found myself afoot on the road to

Lowton. A picturesque track it was, by the way; lying along the side

of the beck and through the sweetest curves of the dale: but that

day I thought more of the letters, that might or might not be awaiting

me at the little burgh whither I was bound, than of the charms of

lea and water.

   My ostensible errand on this occasion was to get measured for a

pair of shoes; so I discharged that business first, and when it was

done, I stepped across the clean and quiet little street from the

shoemaker's to the post-office: it was kept by an old dame, who wore

horn spectacles on her nose, and black mittens on her hands.

   'Are there any letters for J. E.?' I asked.

   She peered at me over her spectacles, and then she opened a

drawer and fumbled among its contents for a long time, so long that my

hopes began to falter. At last, having held a document before her

glasses for nearly five minutes, she presented it across the

counter, accompanying the act by another inquisitive and mistrustful

glance- it was for J. E.

   'Is there only one?' I demanded.

   'There are no more,' said she; and I put it in my pocket and turned

my face homeward: I could not open it then; rules obliged me to be

back by eight, and it was already half-past seven.

   Various duties awaited me on my arrival: I had to sit with the

girls during their hour of study; then it was my turn to read prayers;

to see them to bed: afterwards I supped with the other teachers.

Even when we finally retired for the night, the inevitable Miss

Gryce was still my companion: we had only a short end of candle in our

candlestick, and I dreaded lest she should talk till it was all

burnt out; fortunately, however, the heavy supper she had eaten

produced a soporific effect: she was already snoring before I had

finished undressing. There still remained an inch of candle: I now

took out my letter; the seal was an initial F.; I broke it; the

contents were brief.

Thursday, possesses the acquirements mentioned, and if she is in a

position to give satisfactory references as to character and

competency, a situation can be offered her where there is but one

pupil, a little girl, under ten years of age; and where the salary

is thirty pounds per annum. J. E. is requested to send references,

name, address, and all particulars to the direction:-

   I examined the document long: the writing was old-fashioned and

rather uncertain, like that of an elderly lady. This circumstance

was satisfactory: a private fear had haunted me, that in thus acting

for myself, and by my own guidance, I ran the risk of getting into

some scrape; and, above all things, I wished the result of my

endeavours to be respectable, proper, en regle. I now felt that an

elderly lady was no bad ingredient in the business I had on hand. Mrs.

Fairfax! I saw her in a black gown and widow's cap; frigid, perhaps,

but not uncivil: a model of elderly English respectability.

Thornfield! that, doubtless, was the name of her house: a neat orderly

spot, I was sure; though I failed in my efforts to conceive a

recollections of the map of England; yes, I saw it; both the shire and

county where I now resided: that was a recommendation to me. I

longed to go where there was life and movement: Millcote was a large

doubtless: so much the better; it would be a complete change at least.

Not that my fancy was much captivated by the idea of long chimneys and

clouds of smoke- 'but,' I argued, 'Thornfield will, probably, be a

good way from the town.'

   Here the socket of the candle dropped, and the wick went out.

   Next day new steps were to be taken; my plans could no longer be

confined to my own breast; I must impart them in order to achieve

their success. Having sought and obtained an audience of the

superintendent during the noontide recreation, I told her I had a

prospect of getting a new situation where the salary would be double

what I now received (for at Lowood I only got L15 per annum); and

requested she would break the matter for me to Mr. Brocklehurst, or

some of the committee, and ascertain whether they would permit me to

mention them as references. She obligingly consented to act as

mediatrix in the matter. The next day she laid the affair before Mr.

Brocklehurst, who said that Mrs. Reed must be written to, as she was

my natural guardian. A note was accordingly addressed to that lady,

who returned for answer, that 'I might do as I pleased: she had long

relinquished all interference in my affairs.' This note went the round

of the committee, and at last, after what appeared to me most

tedious delay, formal leave was given me to better my condition if I

could; and an assurance added, that as I had always conducted myself

well, both as teacher and pupil, at Lowood, a testimonial of character

and capacity, signed by the inspectors of that institution, should

forthwith be furnished me.

   This testimonial I accordingly received in about a month, forwarded

a copy of it to Mrs. Fairfax, and got that lady's reply, stating

that she was satisfied, and fixing that day fortnight as the period

for my assuming the post of governess in her house.

   I now busied myself in preparations: the fortnight passed

rapidly. I had not a very large wardrobe, though it was adequate to my

wants; and the last day sufficed to pack my trunk,- the same I had

brought with me eight years ago from Gateshead.

   The box was corded, the card nailed on. In half an hour the carrier

was to call for it to take it to Lowton, whither I myself was to

repair at an early hour the next morning to meet the coach. I had

brushed my black stuff travelling-dress, prepared my bonnet, gloves,

and muff; sought in all my drawers to see that no article was left

behind; and now having nothing more to do, I sat down and tried to

rest. I could not; though I had been on foot all day, I could not

now repose an instant; I was too much excited. A phase of my life

was closing tonight, a new one opening to-morrow: impossible to

slumber in the interval; I must watch feverishly while the change

was being accomplished.

   'Miss,' said a servant who met me in the lobby, where I was

wandering like a troubled spirit, 'a person below wishes to see you.'

   'The carrier, no doubt,' I thought, and ran downstairs without

inquiry. I was passing the back-parlour or teachers' sitting-room, the

door of which was half open, to go to the kitchen, when some one ran

out-

   'It's her, I am sure!- I could have told her anywhere!' cried the

individual who stopped my progress and took my hand.

   I looked: I saw a woman attired like a well-dressed servant,

matronly, yet still young; very good-looking, with black hair and

eyes, and lively complexion.

   'Well, who is it?' she asked, in a voice and with a smile I half

recognised; 'you've not quite forgotten me, I think, Miss Jane?'

   In another second I was embracing and kissing her rapturously:

'Bessie! Bessie! Bessie!' that was all I said; whereat she half

laughed, half cried, and we both went into the parlour. By the fire

stood a little fellow of three years old, in plaid frock and trousers.

   'That is my little boy,' said Bessie directly.

   'Then you are married, Bessie?'

   'Yes; nearly five years since to Robert Leaven, the coachman; and

I've a little girl besides Bobby there, that I've christened Jane.'

   'And you don't live at Gateshead?'

   'I live at the lodge: the old porter has left.'

   'Well, and how do they all get on? Tell me everything about them,

Bessie: but sit down first; and, Bobby, come and sit on my knee,

will you?' but Bobby preferred sidling over to his mother.

   'You're not grown so very tall, Miss Jane, nor so very stout,'

continued Mrs. Leaven. 'I daresay they've not kept you too well at

school: Miss Reed is the head and shoulders taller than you are; and

Miss Georgiana would make two of you in breadth.'

   'Georgiana is handsome, I suppose, Bessie?'

   'Very. She went up to London last winter with her mama, and there

everybody admired her, and a young lord fell in love with her: but his

relations were against the match; and- what do you think?- he and Miss

Georgiana made it up to run away; but they were found out and stopped.

It was Miss Reed that found them out: I believe she was envious; and

now she and her sister lead a cat and dog life together; they are

always quarrelling.'

   'Well, and what of John Reed?'

   'Oh, he is not doing so well as his mama could wish. He went to

college, and he got- plucked, I think they call it: and then his

uncles wanted him to be a barrister, and study the law: but he is such

a dissipated young man, they will never make much of him, I think.'

   'What does he look like?'

   'He is very tall: some people call him a fine-looking young man;

but he has such thick lips.'

   'And Mrs. Reed?'

   'Missis looks stout and well enough in the face, but I think

she's not quite easy in her mind: Mr. John's conduct does not please

her- he spends a deal of money.'

   'Did she send you here, Bessie?'

   'No, indeed: but I have long wanted to see you, and when I heard

that there had been a letter from you, and that you were going to

another part of the country, I thought I'd just set off, and get a

look at you before you were quite out of my reach.'

   'I am afraid you are disappointed in me, Bessie.' I said this

laughing: I perceived that Bessie's glance, though it expressed

regard, did in no shape denote admiration.

   'No, Miss Jane, not exactly: you are genteel enough; you look

like a lady, and it is as much as ever I expected of you: you were

no beauty as a child.'

   I smiled at Bessie's frank answer: I felt that it was correct,

but I confess I was not quite indifferent to its import: at eighteen

most people wish to please, and the conviction that they have not an

exterior likely to second that desire brings anything but

gratification.

   'I daresay you are clever, though,' continued Bessie, by way of

solace. 'What can you do? Can you play on the piano?'

   'A little.'

   There was one in the room; Bessie went and opened it, and then

asked me to sit down and give her a tune: I played a waltz or two, and

she was charmed.

   'The Miss Reeds could not play as well!' said she exultingly. 'I

always said you would surpass them in learning: and can you draw?'

   'That is one of my paintings over the chimney-piece.' It was a

landscape in water colours, of which I had made a present to the

superintendent, in acknowledgment of her obliging mediation with the

committee on my behalf, and which she had framed and glazed.

   'Well, that is beautiful, Miss Jane! It is as fine a picture as any

Miss Reed's drawing-master could paint, let alone the young ladies

themselves, who could not come near it: and have you learnt French?'

   'Yes, Bessie, I can both read it and speak it.'

   'And you can work on muslin and canvas?'

   'I can.'

   'Oh, you are quite a lady, Miss Jane! I knew you would be: you will

get on whether your relations notice you or not. There was something I

wanted to ask you. Have you ever heard anything from your father's

kinsfolk, the Eyres?'

   'Never in my life.'

   'Well, you know, Missis always said they were poor and quite

despicable: and they may be poor; but I believe they are as much

gentry as the Reeds are; for one day, nearly seven years ago, a Mr.

Eyre came to Gateshead and wanted to see you; Missis said you were

at school fifty miles off; he seemed so much disappointed, for he

could not stay: he was going on a voyage to a foreign country, and the

ship was to sail from London in a day or two. He looked quite a

gentleman, and I believe he was your father's brother.'

   'What foreign country was he going to, Bessie?'

   'An island thousands of miles off, where they make wine- the butler

did tell me-'

   'Madeira?' I suggested.

   'Yes, that is it- that is the very word.'

   'So he went?'

   'Yes; he did not stay many minutes in the house: Missis was very

high with him; she called him afterwards a "sneaking tradesman." My

Robert believes he was a wine-merchant.'

   'Very likely,' I returned; 'or perhaps clerk or agent to a

wine-merchant.'

   Bessie and I conversed about old times an hour longer, and then she

was obliged to leave me: I saw her again for a few minutes the next

morning at Lowton, while I was waiting for the coach. We parted

finally at the door of the Brocklehurst Arms there, each went her

separate way; she set off for the brow of Lowood Fell to meet the

conveyance which was to take her back to Gateshead, I mounted the

vehicle which was to bear me to new duties and a new life in the

unknown environs of Millcote.