How much I wished to reply fully to this question! How difficult itwas to frame any answer! Children can feel, but they cannot analysetheir feelings; and if the analysis is partially effected inthought, they know not how to express the result of the process inwords. Fearful, however, of losing this first and only opportunityof relieving my grief by imparting it, I, after a disturbed pause,contrived to frame a meagre, though, as far as it went, true response.。， 'Well, Jane Eyre, and are you a good child?'
Comfort and hope to the poor orphan child.。， In the course of the day I was enrolled a member of the fourthclass, and regular tasks and occupations were assigned me: hitherto, Ihad only been a spectator of the proceedings at Lowood; I was now tobecome an actor therein. At first, being little accustomed to learn byheart, the lessons appeared to me both long and difficult; thefrequent change from task to task, too, bewildered me; and I wasglad when, about three o'clock in the afternoon, Miss Smith put intomy hands a border of muslin two yards long, together with needle,thimble, etc., and sent me to sit in a quiet corner of the schoolroom,with directions to hem the same. At that hour most of the otherswere sewing likewise; but one class still stood round Miss Scatcherd'schair reading, and as all was quiet, the subject of their lessonscould be heard, together with the manner in which each girlacquitted herself, and the animadversions or commendations of MissScatcherd on the performance. It was English history: among thereaders I observed my acquaintance of the verandah: at thecommencement of the lesson, her place had been at the top of theclass, but for some error of pronunciation, or some inattention tostops, she was suddenly sent to the very bottom. Even in thatobscure position, Miss Scatcherd continued to make her an object ofconstant notice; she was continually addressing to her such phrases asthe following:-
'What is it about?' I continued. I hardly know where I found thehardihood thus to open a conversation with a stranger; the step wascontrary to my nature and habits: but I think her occupation touched achord of sympathy somewhere; for I too liked reading, though of afrivolous and childish kind; I could not digest or comprehend theserious or substantial.。， 'No? oh, shocking! I have a little boy, younger than you, who knowssix Psalms by heart: and when you ask him which he would ratherhave, a gingerbread-nut to eat or a verse of a Psalm to learn, hesays: "Oh! the verse of a Psalm! angels sing Psalms;" says he, "I wishto be a little angel here below;" he then gets two nuts inrecompense for his infant piety.'
'Silence!' ejaculated a voice; not that of Miss Miller, but oneof the upper teachers, a little and dark personage, smartly dressed,but of somewhat morose aspect, who installed herself at the top of onetable, while a more buxom lady presided at the other. I looked in vainfor her I had first seen the night before; she was not visible: MissMiller occupied the foot of the table where I sat, and a strange,foreign-looking, elderly lady, the French teacher, as I afterwardsfound, took the corresponding seat at the other board. A long gracewas said and a hymn sung; then a servant brought in some tea for theteachers, and the meal began.。， 'That is curious,' said I, 'it is so easy to be careful.'