'Never,' I thought; and ardently I wished to die. While sobbing outthis wish in broken accents, some one approached: I started up-again Helen Burns was near me; the fading fires just showed her comingup the long, vacant room; she brought my coffee and bread.。，
I resolved, in the depth of my heart, that I would be mostmoderate- most correct; and, having reflected a few minutes in orderto arrange coherently what I had to say, I told her all the story ofmy sad childhood. Exhausted by emotion, my language was more subduedthan it generally was when it developed that sad theme; and mindful ofHelen's warnings against the indulgence of resentment, I infusedinto the narrative far less of gall and wormwood than ordinary. Thusrestrained and simplified, it sounded more credible: I felt as Iwent on that Miss Temple fully believed me.。， 'Eyre- Jane Eyre.'
Reader, though I look comfortably accommodated, I am not verytranquil in my mind. I thought when the coach stopped here there wouldbe some one to meet me; I looked anxiously round as I descended thewooden steps the 'boots' placed for my convenience, expecting tohear my name pronounced, and to see some description of carriagewaiting to convey me to Thornfield. Nothing of the sort was visible;and when I asked a waiter if any one had been to inquire after aMiss Eyre, I was answered in the negative: so I had no resource but torequest to be shown into a private room: and here I am waiting,while all sorts of doubts and fears are troubling my thoughts.。，
I had my own reasons for being dismayed at this apparition; toowell I remembered the perfidious hints given by Mrs. Reed about mydisposition, etc.; the promise pledged by Mr. Brocklehurst toapprise Miss Temple and the teachers of my vicious nature. All along Ihad been dreading the fulfilment of this promise,- I had beenlooking out daily for the 'Coming Man,' whose information respectingmy past life and conversation was to brand me as a bad child for ever:now there he was.。， 'Can it be you, Jane?' she asked, in her own gentle voice.
'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 be matter offact. Any one may serve: I have served here eight years; now all Iwant is to serve elsewhere. Can I not get so much of my own will? Isnot the thing feasible? Yes- yes- the end is not so difficult; if Ihad only a brain active enough to ferret out the means of attainingit.'。，
'You are not a servant at the hall, of course. You are-' Hestopped, ran his eye over my dress, which, as usual, was quite simple:a black merino cloak, a black beaver bonnet; neither of them half fineenough for a lady's-maid. He seemed puzzled to decide what I was; Ihelped him.。， 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 discovery dawnedon me, namely, that in the interval I had undergone a transformingprocess; that my mind had put off all it had borrowed of MissTemple- or rather that she had taken with her the serene atmosphereI had been breathing in her vicinity- and that now I was left in mynatural 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 motivewere 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 someyears 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 fieldof hopes and fears, of sensations and excitements, awaited those whohad courage to go forth into its expanse, to seek real knowledge oflife amidst its perils.
'Yes, Bessie, I can both read it and speak it.'。， 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.
， '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.。， 'In what way is he peculiar?'