The next day commenced as before, getting up and dressing byrushlight; but this morning we were obliged to dispense with theceremony of washing; the water in the pitchers was frozen. A changehad taken place in the weather the preceding evening, and a keennorth-east wind, whistling through the crevices of our bedroomwindows all night long, had made us shiver in our beds, and turnedthe contents of the ewers to ice.

Before the long hour and a half of prayers and Bible-reading wasover, I felt ready to perish with cold. Breakfast-time came atlast, and this morning the porridge was not burnt; the quality waseatable, the quantity small. How small my portion seemed! I wishedit had been doubled.

In the course of the day I was enrolled a member of the fourthclass, and regular tasks and occupations were assigned me:hitherto, I had only been a spectator of the proceedings at Lowood;I was now to become an actor therein. At first, being littleaccustomed to learn by heart, the lessons appeared to me both longand difficult; the frequent change from task to task, too,bewildered me; and I was glad when, about three o'clock in theafternoon, Miss Smith put into my hands a border of muslin two yardslong, together with needle, thimble, &c., and sent me to sit in aquiet corner of the schoolroom, with directions to hem the same. Atthat hour most of the others were sewing likewise; but one classstill stood round Miss Scatcherd's chair reading, and as all wasquiet, the subject of their lessons could be heard, together withthe manner in which each girl acquitted herself, and theanimadversions or commendations of Miss Scatcherd on theperformance. It was English history: among the readers I observedmy acquaintance of the verandah: at the commencement of the lesson,her place had been at the top of the class, but for some error ofpronunciation, or some inattention to stops, she was suddenly sentto the very bottom. Even in that obscure position, Miss Scatcherdcontinued to make her an object of constant notice: she wascontinually addressing to her such phrases as the following:-

"Burns" (such it seems was her name: the girls here were all calledby their surnames, as boys are elsewhere), "Burns, you are standingon the side of your shoe; turn your toes out immediately." "Burns,you poke your chin most unpleasantly; draw it in." "Burns, I insiston your holding your head up; I will not have you before me in thatattitude," &c. &c.

A chapter having been read through twice, the books were closed andthe girls examined. The lesson had comprised part of the reign ofCharles I., and there were sundry questions about tonnage andpoundage and ship-money, which most of them appeared unable toanswer; still, every little difficulty was solved instantly when itreached Burns: her memory seemed to have retained the substance ofthe whole lesson, and she was ready with answers on every point. Ikept expecting that Miss Scatcherd would praise her attention; but,instead of that, she suddenly cried out -

"You dirty, disagreeable girl! you have never cleaned your nailsthis morning!"

Burns made no answer: I wondered at her silence. "Why," thought I,"does she not explain that she could neither clean her nails norwash her face, as the water was frozen?"

My attention was now called off by Miss Smith desiring me to hold askein of thread: while she was winding it, she talked to me fromtime to time, asking whether I had ever been at school before,whether I could mark, stitch, knit, &c.; till she dismissed me, Icould not pursue my observations on Miss Scatcherd's movements.When I returned to my seat, that lady was just delivering an orderof which I did not catch the import; but Burns immediately left theclass, and going into the small inner room where the books werekept, returned in half a minute, carrying in her hand a bundle oftwigs tied together at one end. This ominous tool she presented toMiss Scatcherd with a respectful curtesy; then she quietly, andwithout being told, unloosed her pinafore, and the teacher instantlyand sharply inflicted on her neck a dozen strokes with the bunch oftwigs. Not a tear rose to Burns' eye; and, while I paused from mysewing, because my fingers quivered at this spectacle with asentiment of unavailing and impotent anger, not a feature of herpensive face altered its ordinary expression.

"Hardened girl!" exclaimed Miss Scatcherd; "nothing can correct youof your slatternly habits: carry the rod away."

Burns obeyed: I looked at her narrowly as she emerged from thebook-closet; she was just putting back her handkerchief into herpocket, and the trace of a tear glistened on her thin cheek.

The play-hour in the evening I thought the pleasantest fraction ofthe day at Lowood: the bit of bread, the draught of coffeeswallowed at five o'clock had revived vitality, if it had notsatisfied hunger: the long restraint of the day was slackened; theschoolroom felt warmer than in the morning--its fires being allowedto burn a little more brightly, to supply, in some measure, theplace of candles, not yet introduced: the ruddy gloaming, thelicensed uproar, the confusion of many voices gave one a welcomesense of liberty.

On the evening of the day on which I had seen Miss Scatcherd flogher pupil, Burns, I wandered as usual among the forms and tables andlaughing groups without a companion, yet not feeling lonely: when Ipassed the windows, I now and then lifted a blind, and looked out;it snowed fast, a drift was already forming against the lower panes;putting my ear close to the window, I could distinguish from thegleeful tumult within, the disconsolate moan of the wind outside.

Probably, if I had lately left a good home and kind parents, thiswould have been the hour when I should most keenly have regrettedthe separation; that wind would then have saddened my heart; thisobscure chaos would have disturbed my peace! as it was, I derivedfrom both a strange excitement, and reckless and feverish, I wishedthe wind to howl more wildly, the gloom to deepen to darkness, andthe confusion to rise to clamour.

Jumping over forms, and creeping under tables, I made my way to oneof the fire-places; there, kneeling by the high wire fender, I foundBurns, absorbed, silent, abstracted from all round her by thecompanionship of a book, which she read by the dim glare of theembers.

"Is it still 'Rasselas'?" I asked, coming behind her.

"Yes," she said, "and I have just finished it."

And in five minutes more she shut it up. I was glad of this."Now," thought I, "I can perhaps get her to talk." I sat down byher on the floor.

"What is your name besides Burns?"

"Helen."

"Do you come a long way from here?"

"I come from a place farther north, quite on the borders ofScotland."

"Will you ever go back?"

"I hope so; but nobody can be sure of the future."

"You must wish to leave Lowood?"

"No! why should I? I was sent to Lowood to get an education; and itwould be of no use going away until I have attained that object."

"But that teacher, Miss Scatcherd, is so cruel to you?"

"Cruel? Not at all! She is severe: she dislikes my faults."

"And if I were in your place I should dislike her; I should resisther. If she struck me with that rod, I should get it from her hand;I should break it under her nose."

"Probably you would do nothing of the sort: but if you did, Mr.Brocklehurst would expel you from the school; that would be a greatgrief to your relations. It is far better to endure patiently asmart which nobody feels but yourself, than to commit a hasty actionwhose evil consequences will extend to all connected with you; andbesides, the Bible bids us return good for evil."

"But then it seems disgraceful to be flogged, and to be sent tostand in the middle of a room full of people; and you are such agreat girl: I am far younger than you, and I could not bear it."

"Yet it would be your duty to bear it, if you could not avoid it:it is weak and silly to say you CANNOT BEAR what it is your fate tobe required to bear."

I heard her with wonder: I could not comprehend this doctrine ofendurance; and still less could I understand or sympathise with theforbearance she expressed for her chastiser. Still I felt thatHelen Burns considered things by a light invisible to my eyes. Isuspected she might be right and I wrong; but I would not ponder thematter deeply; like Felix, I put it off to a more convenient season.

"You say you have faults, Helen: what are they? To me you seemvery good."

"Then learn from me, not to judge by appearances: I am, as MissScatcherd said, slatternly; I seldom put, and never keep, things, inorder; I am careless; I forget rules; I read when I should learn mylessons; I have no method; and sometimes I say, like you, I cannotBEAR to be subjected to systematic arrangements. This is all veryprovoking to Miss Scatcherd, who is naturally neat, punctual, andparticular."

"And cross and cruel," I added; but Helen Burns would not admit myaddition: she kept silence.

"Is Miss Temple as severe to you as Miss Scatcherd?"

At the utterance of Miss Temple's name, a soft smile flitted overher grave face.

"Miss Temple is full of goodness; it pains her to be severe to anyone, even the worst in the school: she sees my errors, and tells meof them gently; and, if I do anything worthy of praise, she gives memy meed liberally. One strong proof of my wretchedly defectivenature is, that even her expostulations, so mild, so rational, havenot influence to cure me of my faults; and even her praise, though Ivalue it most highly, cannot stimulate me to continued care andforesight."

"That is curious," said I, "it is so easy to be careful."

"For YOU I have no doubt it is. I observed you in your class thismorning, and saw you were closely attentive: your thoughts neverseemed to wander while Miss Miller explained the lesson andquestioned you. Now, mine continually rove away; when I should belistening to Miss Scatcherd, and collecting all she says withassiduity, often I lose the very sound of her voice; I fall into asort of dream. Sometimes I think I am in Northumberland, and thatthe noises I hear round me are the bubbling of a little brook whichruns through Deepden, near our house;--then, when it comes to myturn to reply, I have to be awakened; and having heard nothing ofwhat was read for listening to the visionary brook, I have no answerready."

"Yet how well you replied this afternoon."

"It was mere chance; the subject on which we had been reading hadinterested me. This afternoon, instead of dreaming of Deepden, Iwas wondering how a man who wished to do right could act so unjustlyand unwisely as Charles the First sometimes did; and I thought whata pity it was that, with his integrity and conscientiousness, hecould see no farther than the prerogatives of the crown. If he hadbut been able to look to a distance, and see how what they call thespirit of the age was tending! Still, I like Charles--I respecthim--I pity him, poor murdered king! Yes, his enemies were theworst: they shed blood they had no right to shed. How dared theykill him!"

Helen was talking to herself now: she had forgotten I could notvery well understand her--that I was ignorant, or nearly so, of thesubject she discussed. I recalled her to my level.

"And when Miss Temple teaches you, do your thoughts wander then?"

"No, certainly, not often; because Miss Temple has generallysomething to say which is newer than my own reflections; herlanguage is singularly agreeable to me, and the information shecommunicates is often just what I wished to gain."

"Well, then, with Miss Temple you are good?"

"Yes, in a passive way: I make no effort; I follow as inclinationguides me. There is no merit in such goodness."

"A great deal: you are good to those who are good to you. It isall I ever desire to be. If people were always kind and obedient tothose who are cruel and unjust, the wicked people would have it alltheir own way: they would never feel afraid, and so they wouldnever alter, but would grow worse and worse. When we are struck atwithout a reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am surewe should--so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to doit again."

"You will change your mind, I hope, when you grow older: as yet youare but a little untaught girl."

"But I feel this, Helen; I must dislike those who, whatever I do toplease them, persist in disliking me; I must resist those who punishme unjustly. It is as natural as that I should love those who showme affection, or submit to punishment when I feel it is deserved."

"Heathens and savage tribes hold that doctrine, but Christians andcivilised nations disown it."

"How? I don't understand."

"It is not violence that best overcomes hate--nor vengeance thatmost certainly heals injury."

"What then?"

"Read the New Testament, and observe what Christ says, and how Heacts; make His word your rule, and His conduct your example."

"What does He say?"

"Love your enemies; bless them that curse you; do good to them thathate you and despitefully use you."

"Then I should love Mrs. Reed, which I cannot do; I should bless herson John, which is impossible."

In her turn, Helen Burns asked me to explain, and I proceededforthwith to pour out, in my own way, the tale of my sufferings andresentments. Bitter and truculent when excited, I spoke as I felt,without reserve or softening.

Helen heard me patiently to the end: I expected she would then makea remark, but she said nothing.

"Well," I asked impatiently, "is not Mrs. Reed a hard-hearted, badwoman?"

"She has been unkind to you, no doubt; because you see, she dislikesyour cast of character, as Miss Scatcherd does mine; but howminutely you remember all she has done and said to you! What asingularly deep impression her injustice seems to have made on yourheart! No ill-usage so brands its record on my feelings. Would younot be happier if you tried to forget her severity, together withthe passionate emotions it excited? Life appears to me too short tobe spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs. We are, andmust be, one and all, burdened with faults in this world: but thetime will soon come when, I trust, we shall put them off in puttingoff our corruptible bodies; when debasement and sin will fall fromus with this cumbrous frame of flesh, and only the spark of thespirit will remain,--the impalpable principle of light and thought,pure as when it left the Creator to inspire the creature: whence itcame it will return; perhaps again to be communicated to some beinghigher than man--perhaps to pass through gradations of glory, fromthe pale human soul to brighten to the seraph! Surely it willnever, on the contrary, be suffered to degenerate from man to fiend?No; I cannot believe that: I hold another creed: which no one evertaught me, and which I seldom mention; but in which I delight, andto which I cling: for it extends hope to all: it makes Eternity arest--a mighty home, not a terror and an abyss. Besides, with thiscreed, I can so clearly distinguish between the criminal and hiscrime; I can so sincerely forgive the first while I abhor the last:with this creed revenge never worries my heart, degradation nevertoo deeply disgusts me, injustice never crushes me too low: I livein calm, looking to the end."

Helen's head, always drooping, sank a little lower as she finishedthis sentence. I saw by her look she wished no longer to talk tome, but rather to converse with her own thoughts. She was notallowed much time for meditation: a monitor, a great rough girl,presently came up, exclaiming in a strong Cumberland accent -

"Helen Burns, if you don't go and put your drawer in order, and foldup your work this minute, I'll tell Miss Scatcherd to come and lookat it!"

Helen sighed as her reverie fled, and getting up, obeyed the monitorwithout reply as without delay.