Hitherto I have recorded in detail the events of my insignificantexistence: to the first ten years of my life I have given almost asmany chapters. But this is not to be a regular autobiography. I amonly bound to invoke Memory where I know her responses will possesssome degree of interest; therefore I now pass a space of eight yearsalmost in silence: a few lines only are necessary to keep up thelinks of connection.

When the typhus fever had fulfilled its mission of devastation atLowood, it gradually disappeared from thence; but not till itsvirulence and the number of its victims had drawn public attentionon the school. Inquiry was made into the origin of the scourge, andby degrees various facts came out which excited public indignationin a high degree. The unhealthy nature of the site; the quantityand quality of the children's food; the brackish, fetid water usedin its preparation; the pupils' wretched clothing andaccommodations--all these things were discovered, and the discoveryproduced a result mortifying to Mr. Brocklehurst, but beneficial tothe institution.

Several wealthy and benevolent individuals in the county subscribedlargely for the erection of a more convenient building in a bettersituation; new regulations were made; improvements in diet andclothing introduced; the funds of the school were intrusted to themanagement of a committee. Mr. Brocklehurst, who, from his wealthand family connections, could not be overlooked, still retained thepost of treasurer; but he was aided in the discharge of his dutiesby gentlemen of rather more enlarged and sympathising minds: hisoffice of inspector, too, was shared by those who knew how tocombine reason with strictness, comfort with economy, compassionwith uprightness. The school, thus improved, became in time a trulyuseful and noble institution. I remained an inmate of its walls,after its regeneration, for eight years: six as pupil, and two asteacher; and in both capacities I bear my testimony to its value andimportance.

During these eight years my life was uniform: but not unhappy,because it was not inactive. I had the means of an excellenteducation placed within my reach; a fondness for some of my studies,and a desire to excel in all, together with a great delight inpleasing my teachers, especially such as I loved, urged me on: Iavailed myself fully of the advantages offered me. In time I roseto be the first girl of the first class; then I was invested withthe 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 continuedsuperintendent of the seminary: to her instruction I owed the bestpart of my acquirements; her friendship and society had been mycontinual 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, almostworthy of such a wife) to a distant county, and consequently waslost to me.

From the day she left I was no longer the same: with her was goneevery settled feeling, every association that had made Lowood insome degree a home to me. I had imbibed from her something of hernature and much of her habits: more harmonious thoughts: whatseemed better regulated feelings had become the inmates of my mind.I had given in allegiance to duty and order; I was quiet; I believedI was content: to the eyes of others, usually even to my own, Iappeared a disciplined and subdued character.

But destiny, in the shape of the Rev. Mr. Nasmyth, came between meand Miss Temple: I saw her in her travelling dress step into apost-chaise, shortly after the marriage ceremony; I watched thechaise mount the hill and disappear beyond its brow; and thenretired to my own room, and there spent in solitude the greatestpart of the half-holiday granted in honour of the occasion.

I walked about the chamber most of the time. I imagined myself onlyto be regretting my loss, and thinking how to repair it; but when myreflections were concluded, and I looked up and found that theafternoon was gone, and evening far advanced, another discoverydawned on me, namely, that in the interval I had undergone atransforming process; that my mind had put off all it had borrowedof Miss Temple--or rather that she had taken with her the sereneatmosphere I had been breathing in her vicinity--and that now I wasleft in my natural element, and beginning to feel the stirring ofold emotions. It did not seem as if a prop were withdrawn, butrather as if a motive were gone: it was not the power to betranquil which had failed me, but the reason for tranquillity was nomore. My world had for some years been in Lowood: my experiencehad been of its rules and systems; now I remembered that the realworld was wide, and that a varied field of hopes and fears, ofsensations and excitements, awaited those who had courage to goforth into its expanse, to seek real knowledge of life amidst itsperils.

I went to my window, opened it, and looked out. There were the twowings of the building; there was the garden; there were the skirtsof Lowood; there was the hilly horizon. My eye passed all otherobjects to rest on those most remote, the blue peaks; it was those Ilonged to surmount; all within their boundary of rock and heathseemed prison-ground, exile limits. I traced the white road windinground the base of one mountain, and vanishing in a gorge betweentwo; how I longed to follow it farther! I recalled the time when Ihad travelled that very road in a coach; I remembered descendingthat hill at twilight; an age seemed to have elapsed since the daywhich brought me first to Lowood, and I had never quitted it since.My vacations had all been spent at school: Mrs. Reed had never sentfor me to Gateshead; neither she nor any of her family had ever beento visit me. I had had no communication by letter or message withthe outer world: school-rules, school-duties, school-habits andnotions, and voices, and faces, and phrases, and costumes, andpreferences, and antipathies--such was what I knew of existence.And now I felt that it was not enough; I tired of the routine ofeight years in one afternoon. I desired liberty; for liberty Igasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed scattered on thewind then faintly blowing. I abandoned it and framed a humblersupplication; for change, stimulus: that petition, too, seemedswept off into vague space: "Then," I cried, half desperate, "grantme 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 reflectionstill bedtime: even then a teacher who occupied the same room withme kept me from the subject to which I longed to recur, by aprolonged effusion of small talk. How I wished sleep would silenceher. It seemed as if, could I but go back to the idea which hadlast entered my mind as I stood at the window, some inventivesuggestion would rise for my relief.

Miss Gryce snored at last; she was a heavy Welshwoman, and till nowher habitual nasal strains had never been regarded by me in anyother light than as a nuisance; to-night I hailed the first deepnotes 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 thereis, because it does not sound too sweet; it is not like such wordsas Liberty, Excitement, Enjoyment: delightful sounds truly; but nomore than sounds for me; and so hollow and fleeting that it is merewaste of time to listen to them. But Servitude! That must bematter 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 myown will? Is not the thing feasible? Yes--yes--the end is not sodifficult; if I had only a brain active enough to ferret out themeans of attaining it."

I sat up in bed by way of arousing this said brain: it was a chillynight; I covered my shoulders with a shawl, and then I proceeded TOTHINK 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 usewanting anything better. How do people do to get a new place? Theyapply to friends, I suppose: I have no friends. There are manyothers who have no friends, who must look about for themselves andbe their own helpers; and what is their resource?"

I could not tell: nothing answered me; I then ordered my brain tofind a response, and quickly. It worked and worked faster: I feltthe pulses throb in my head and temples; but for nearly an hour itworked in chaos; and no result came of its efforts. Feverish withvain labour, I got up and took a turn in the room; undrew thecurtain, noted a star or two, shivered with cold, and again crept tobed.

A kind fairy, in my absence, had surely dropped the requiredsuggestion on my pillow; for as I lay down, it came quietly andnaturally to my mind.--"Those who want situations advertise; youmust advertise in the -shire Herald."

"How? I know nothing about advertising."

Replies rose smooth and prompt now:-

"You must enclose the advertisement and the money to pay for itunder a cover directed to the editor of the Herald; you must put it,the first opportunity you have, into the post at Lowton; answersmust be addressed to J.E., at the post-office there; you can go andinquire 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 mymind; I had it in a clear practical form: I felt satisfied, andfell asleep.

With earliest day, I was up: I had my advertisement written,enclosed, and directed before the bell rang to rouse the school; itran thus:-

"A young lady accustomed to tuition" (had I not been a teacher twoyears?) "is desirous of meeting with a situation in a private familywhere the children are under fourteen (I thought that as I wasbarely eighteen, it would not do to undertake the guidance of pupilsnearer my own age). She is qualified to teach the usual branches ofa good English education, together with French, Drawing, and Music"(in those days, reader, this now narrow catalogue ofaccomplishments, would have been held tolerably comprehensive)."Address, J.E., Post-office, Lowton, -shire."

This document remained locked in my drawer all day: after tea, Iasked leave of the new superintendent to go to Lowton, in order toperform some small commissions for myself and one or two of myfellow-teachers; permission was readily granted; I went. It was awalk of two miles, and the evening was wet, but the days were stilllong; 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 closeof a pleasant autumn day, I found myself afoot on the road toLowton. A picturesque track it was, by the way; lying along theside of the beck and through the sweetest curves of the dale: butthat day I thought more of the letters, that might or might not beawaiting me at the little burgh whither I was bound, than of thecharms of lea and water.

My ostensible errand on this occasion was to get measured for a pairof shoes; so I discharged that business first, and when it was done,I stepped across the clean and quiet little street from theshoemaker's to the post-office: it was kept by an old dame, whowore 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 drawerand fumbled among its contents for a long time, so long that myhopes began to falter. At last, having held a document before herglasses for nearly five minutes, she presented it across thecounter, accompanying the act by another inquisitive and mistrustfulglance--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 turnedmy face homeward: I could not open it then; rules obliged me to beback by eight, and it was already half-past seven.

Various duties awaited me on my arrival. I had to sit with thegirls during their hour of study; then it was my turn to readprayers; to see them to bed: afterwards I supped with the otherteachers. Even when we finally retired for the night, theinevitable Miss Gryce was still my companion: we had only a shortend of candle in our candlestick, and I dreaded lest she should talktill it was all burnt out; fortunately, however, the heavy suppershe had eaten produced a soporific effect: she was already snoringbefore I had finished undressing. There still remained an inch ofcandle: I now took out my letter; the seal was an initial F.; Ibroke it; the contents were brief.

"If J.E., who advertised in the -shire Herald of last Thursday,possesses the acquirements mentioned, and if she is in a position togive satisfactory references as to character and competency, asituation can be offered her where there is but one pupil, a littlegirl, under ten years of age; and where the salary is thirty poundsper annum. J.E. is requested to send references, name, address, andall particulars to the direction:-

"Mrs. Fairfax, Thornfield, near Millcote, -shire."

I examined the document long: the writing was old-fashioned andrather uncertain, like that of in elderly lady. This circumstancewas satisfactory: a private fear had haunted me, that in thusacting for myself, and by my own guidance, I ran the risk of gettinginto some scrape; and, above all things, I wished the result of myendeavours to be respectable, proper, en regle. I now felt that anelderly 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 Englishrespectability. Thornfield! that, doubtless, was the name of herhouse: a neat orderly spot, I was sure; though I failed in myefforts to conceive a correct plan of the premises. Millcote, -shire; I brushed up my recollections of the map of England, yes, Isaw it; both the shire and the town. -shire was seventy milesnearer London than the remote county where I now resided: that wasa recommendation to me. I longed to go where there was life andmovement: Millcote was a large manufacturing town on the banks ofthe A-; a busy place enough, doubtless: so much the better; itwould be a complete change at least. Not that my fancy was muchcaptivated 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 beconfined to my own breast; I must impart them in order to achievetheir success. Having sought and obtained an audience of thesuperintendent during the noontide recreation, I told her I had aprospect of getting a new situation where the salary would be doublewhat I now received (for at Lowood I only got 15 pounds 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 meto mention them as references. She obligingly consented to act asmediatrix in the matter. The next day she laid the affair beforeMr. Brocklehurst, who said that Mrs. Reed must be written to, as shewas my natural guardian. A note was accordingly addressed to thatlady, who returned for answer, that "I might do as I pleased: shehad long relinquished all interference in my affairs." This notewent the round of the committee, and at last, after what appeared tome most tedious delay, formal leave was given me to better mycondition if I could; and an assurance added, that as I had alwaysconducted myself well, both as teacher and pupil, at Lowood, atestimonial of character and capacity, signed by the inspectors ofthat institution, should forthwith be furnished me.

This testimonial I accordingly received in about a month, forwardeda copy of it to Mrs. Fairfax, and got that lady's reply, statingthat she was satisfied, and fixing that day fortnight as the periodfor 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 broughtwith me eight years ago from Gateshead.

The box was corded, the card nailed on. In half-an-hour the carrierwas to call for it to take it to Lowton, whether I myself was torepair at an early hour the next morning to meet the coach. I hadbrushed my black stuff travelling-dress, prepared my bonnet, gloves,and muff; sought in all my drawers to see that no article was leftbehind; and now having nothing more to do, I sat down and tried torest. I could not; though I had been on foot all day, I could notnow repose an instant; I was too much excited. A phase of my lifewas closing to-night, a new one opening to-morrow: impossible toslumber in the interval; I must watch feverishly while the changewas being accomplished.

"Miss," said a servant who met me in the lobby, where I waswandering like a troubled spirit, "a person below wishes to seeyou."

"The carrier, no doubt," I thought, and ran downstairs withoutinquiry. I was passing the back-parlour or teachers' sitting-room,the door of which was half open, to go to the kitchen, when some oneran out -

"It's her, I am sure!--I could have told her anywhere!" cried theindividual 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 andeyes, and lively complexion.

"Well, who is it?" she asked, in a voice and with a smile I halfrecognised; "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 halflaughed, half cried, and we both went into the parlour. By the firestood a little fellow of three years old, in plaid frock andtrousers.

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

"Then you are married, Bessie?"

"Yes; nearly five years since to Robert Leaven, the coachman; andI'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 dare say they've not kept you too well atschool: 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 thereeverybody admired her, and a young lord fell in love with her: buthis relations were against the match; and--what do you think?--heand Miss Georgiana made it up to run away; but they were found outand stopped. It was Miss Reed that found them out: I believe shewas envious; and now she and her sister lead a cat and dog lifetogether; they are always quarrelling--"

"Well, and what of John Reed?"

"Oh, he is not doing so well as his mama could wish. He went tocollege, and he got--plucked, I think they call it: and then hisuncles wanted him to be a barrister, and study the law: but he issuch a dissipated young man, they will never make much of him, Ithink."

"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'snot 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 heardthat there had been a letter from you, and that you were going toanother part of the country, I thought I'd just set of, and get alook at you before you were quite out of my reach."

"I am afraid you are disappointed in me, Bessie." I said thislaughing: I perceived that Bessie's glance, though it expressedregard, did in no shape denote admiration.

"No, Miss Jane, not exactly: you are genteel enough; you look likea lady, and it is as much as ever I expected of you: you were nobeauty as a child."

I smiled at Bessie's frank answer: I felt that it was correct, butI confess I was not quite indifferent to its import: at eighteenmost people wish to please, and the conviction that they have not anexterior likely to second that desire brings anything butgratification.

"I dare say you are clever, though," continued Bessie, by way ofsolace. "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 askedme to sit down and give her a tune: I played a waltz or two, andshe was charmed.

"The Miss Reeds could not play as well!" said she exultingly. "Ialways said you would surpass them in learning: and can you draw?"

"That is one of my paintings over the chimney-piece." It was alandscape in water colours, of which I had made a present to thesuperintendent, in acknowledgment of her obliging mediation with thecommittee on my behalf, and which she had framed and glazed.

"Well, that is beautiful, Miss Jane! It is as fine a picture as anyMiss Reed's drawing-master could paint, let alone the young ladiesthemselves, who could not come near it: and have you learntFrench?"

"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: youwill get on whether your relations notice you or not. There wassomething I wanted to ask you. Have you ever heard anything fromyour father's kinsfolk, the Eyres?"

"Never in my life."

"Well, you know Missis always said they were poor and quitedespicable: and they may be poor; but I believe they are as muchgentry 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 wereit school fifty miles off; he seemed so much disappointed, for hecould not stay: he was going on a voyage to a foreign country, andthe ship was to sail from London in a day or two. He looked quite agentleman, 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 butlerdid 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 veryhigh with him; she called him afterwards a 'sneaking tradesman.' MyRobert 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 shewas obliged to leave me: I saw her again for a few minutes the nextmorning at Lowton, while I was waiting for the coach. We partedfinally at the door of the Brocklehurst Arms there: each went herseparate way; she set off for the brow of Lowood Fell to meet theconveyance which was to take her back to Gateshead, I mounted thevehicle which was to bear me to new duties and a new life in theunknown environs of Millcote.