evening, after our bread and milk, I wandered around the tables. I had decided that this was the best part of the day: we were free to do anything we wanted for a whole hour. I decided to look for Burns and talk to her once again.
I found her sitting by the fireside finishing the same book. I sat down beside her on the floor and, when she had closed the book, I asked: “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 of Scotland.”
“You must wish you leave Lowood?”
“No! Why should I? I was sent here to get an education, so I should do it before I go.”
“But Miss Scatcherd is so cruel to you.”
“Not at all! She just dislikes my faults.”
“If she struck me with that rod, I would get it from her hand; I would break it under her nose!”
“You probably would not. If you did, Mr. Brocklehurst would expel you from the school. It’s better to endure patiently pain yourself, than to cause problems for all connected with you. The Bible tells us to return good for evil.”
“But she humiliated you! I am far younger than you, and I could not bear it! You say you have faults, Helen: what are they? To me you seem very good.”
“I seldom put, and never keep, things, in order; I am careless; I forget rules; I read when I should learn my lessons. This is all very provoking to Miss Scatcherd, who is naturally neat, punctual, and particular.”
“And cross and cruel,” I added but Helen paid no attention to it.
“Is Miss Temple as severe to you as Miss Scatcherd?” I asked.
A soft smile appeared on Helen’s face.
“Miss Temple is full of goodness: she sees my errors, and tells me of them gently, and praises me when I do anything worthy of praise.”
“And how well you replied this afternoon.”
“It was mere chance. But every time when I listen to Miss Scatcherd, I lose the very sound of her voice, I fall into a sort of dream.”
“But Helen; isn’t it right to dislike those who, whatever I do to please them, persist in disliking me, to resist those who punish me unjustly, and love those who show kindness to me?”
“No. Love your enemies, do good to those who hate and use you.”
“Then I should love Mrs. Reed?”
Helen Burns asked me to explain and I told her everything about this woman with excitement and anger in my voice.
“She has been unkind to you, no doubt,” was the answer to my story. “But how clearly you remember all she has done and said to you! Life is too short to be spent in nursing hatred or rage. We are all full of faults. That is why I choose to forgive and live in calm.”
Just then, one of the monitors came up to us.
“Helen Burns, if you don’t put your drawer in order this minute, I’ll tell Miss Scatcherd about it!” Helen sighed and obeyed the monitor without reply.
Chapter 7
My first three months seemed an age. I tried hard to get accustomed to new rules and tasks. The freezing weather stayed during January, February, and part of March. The roads were almost impassable because of deep snow, later because it started to melt.
Sundays were the worst days in that wintry season. We had to walk two miles to Brocklebridge Church. We set out cold, we arrived at church colder. During the morning service we became almost paralysed. We longed for the light and heat of the fireside, but the bigger girls always went to the front, and the little ones were left behind them, pulling our pinafores around our skinny arms.
I was always hungry. The portions were very small, and some of the bigger girls also bullied the little ones and took their bread. I had to share with them and left practically nothing for myself.
In my first weeks at Lowood, Mr. Brocklehurst was away on business. But in February he visited us. One afternoon I looked up from my lesson to see a tall figure passing the window. When Mr. Brocklehurst, for it was him, strode into the schoolroom two minutes later, everyone stood to attention. I was afraid of seeing him, because I remembered Mrs. Reed lying to him about me, and I did not want him to scold me in front of the girls.
He began by taking Miss Temple aside, and complaining to her about the woollen stockings on the washing line. “They are full of holes, ma’am!” I heard him say. “See that they are properly mended. And furthermore, Miss Temple, on looking over the accounts with the housekeeper, I saw that that a lunch, consisting of bread and cheese, has twice been served out to the girls during the past two weeks. How is this? and by what authority?”
“I am responsible for the circumstance, sir,” said Miss Temple. “The breakfast was so ill prepared that the pupils could not possibly eat it, and I orded to bring bread and butter.
Mr. Brocklehurst was not impressed. “You are aware that my plan in bringing up these girls is, not to accustom them to habits of luxury, but to make them patient, self-denying. They should be able to withstand the occasional spoiling of a meal. Indeed, instead of rewarding them with a delicate treat, you should have lectured them upon the suffering of our Lord, and fed their immortal souls instead of their bodies.”
Miss Temple did not reply. Meantime, Mr. Brocklehurst, standing on the hearth with his hands behind his back, majestically surveyed the whole school.[14]
“Miss Temple!” he suddenly exclaimed. “Red hair, ma’am, curled – curled all over?”
“It’s Julia Severn, sir,” replied Miss Temple quietly. “Her hair curls naturally.”
“Naturally! Yes, but we are not to conform to nature. I desire the hair to be arranged closely, modestly, plainly. Miss Temple, that girl’s hair must be cut off entirely; I will send a barber tomorrow.”
Mr. Brocklehurst was here interrupted: three other visitors, ladies, now entered the room. All three were splendidly attired, the fine girls of sixteen and seventeen had grey beaver hats, then in fashion, and curled hair under them, and the elder lady enveloped in a costly velvet shawl had a false front of French curls.
The three ladies were politely received by Miss Temple, and I heard that the elder lady’s name was Mrs. Brocklehurst. I now understood they were Mr. Brocklehurst’s wife and daughters. Meanwhile, Miss Temple had to listen to their complaints about the housekeeping.
As for me, I made all precautions to hide. I pretended I was busy with my sum and held my slate to conceal my face. It would have worked, if my slate had not slipped from my hand and fallen on the floor with a dreadful crash.
“A careless girl!” cried Mr. Brocklehurst. “Let the child who broke her slate come forward!” Miss Temple gently assisted me to his very feet. “Don’t be afraid, Jane, I saw it was an accident; you will not be punished.” But Mr. Brocklehurst had another opinion.
“Fetch that stool and place the child upon
majestically surveyed the whole school – величественно осматривая всю школу
