I resisted all the way: a new thing for me, and a circumstance which greatly strengthened the bad opinion Bessie and Miss Abbot were disposed to entertain of me. The fact is, I was a trifle beside myself; or rather out of myself, as the French would say: I was conscious that a moment's mutiny had already rendered me liable to strange penalties, and, like any other rebel slave, I felt resolved, in my desperation, to go all lengths.
“Hold her arms, Miss Abbot: she's like a mad cat.”
“For shame! for shame!”cried the lady's-maid.“What shocking conduct, Miss Eyre, to strike a young gentleman, your benefactress's son! Your young master.”
“Master! How is he my master? Am I a servant?”
“No; you are less than a servant, for you do nothing for your keep. There, sit down, and think over your wickedness.”
They had got me by this time into the apartment indicated by Mrs. Reed, and had thrust me upon a stool: my impulse was to rise from it like a spring; their two pair of hands arrested me instantly.
“If you don't sit still, you must be tied down,”said Bessie.“Miss Abbot, lend me your garters; she would break mine directly.”
Miss Abbot turned to divest a stout leg of the necessary ligature. This preparation for bonds, and the additional ignominy it inferred, took a little of the excitement out of me.
“Don't take them off,”I cried;“I will not stir.”
In guarantee whereof, I attached myself to my seat by my hands.
“Mind you don't,”said Bessie; and when she had ascertained that I was really subsiding, she loosened her hold of me; then she and Miss Abbot stood with folded arms, looking darkly and doubtfully on my face, as incredulous of my sanity.
“She never did so before,”at last said Bessie, turning to the Abigail.
“But it was always in her,”was the reply.“I've told Missis often my opinion about the child, and Missis agreed with me. She's an underhand little thing: I never saw a girl of her age with so much cover.”
Bessie answered not; but ere long, addressing me, she said—“You ought to be aware, Miss, that you are under obligations to Mrs. Reed: she keeps you: if she were to turn you off, you would have to go to the poorhouse.”
I had nothing to say to these words: they were not new to me: my very first recollections of existence included hints of the same kind. This reproach of my dependence had become a vague sing-song in my ear: very painful and crushing, but only half intelligible. Miss Abbot joined in-
“And you ought not to think yourself on an equality with the Misses Reed and Master Reed, because Missis kindly allows you to be brought up with them. They will have a great deal of money, and you will have none: it is your place to be humble, and to try to make yourself agreeable to them.”
“What we tell you is for your good,”added Bessie, in no harsh voice,“you should try to be useful and pleasant, then, perhaps, you would have a home here; but if you become passionate and rude, Missis will send you away, I am sure.”
“Besides,”said Miss Abbot,“God will punish her: He might strike her dead in the midst of her tantrums, and then where would she go? Come, Bessie, we will leave her:I wouldn't have her heart for anything. Say your prayers, Miss Eyre, when you are by yourself; for if you don't repent, something bad might be permitted to come down the chimney and fetch you away.”
They went, shutting the door, and locking it behind them.
The red-room was a square chamber, very seldom slept in, I might say never, indeed, unless when a chance influx of visitors at Gateshead Hall rendered it necessary to turn to account all the accommodation it contained: yet it was one of the largest and stateliest chambers in the mansion. A bed supported on massive pillars of mahogany, hung with curtains of deep red damask, stood out like a tabernacle in the centre; the two large windows, with their blinds always drawn down, were half shrouded in festoons and falls of similar drapery; the carpet was red; the table at the foot of the bed was covered with a crimson cloth; the walls were a soft fawn colour with a blush of pink in it; the wardrobe, the toilet-table, the chairs were of darkly polished old mahogany. Out of these deep surrounding shades rose high, and glared white, the piled-up mattresses and pillows of the bed, spread with a snowy Marseilles counterpane. Scarcely less prominent was an ample cushioned easy-chair near the head of the bed, also white, with a footstool before it; and looking, as I thought, like a pale throne.
This room was chill, because it seldom had a fire; it was silent, because remote from the nursery and kitchen; solemn, because it was known to be so seldom entered. The house-maid alone came here on Saturdays, to wipe from the mirrors and the furniture a week's quiet dust: and Mrs. Reed herself, at far intervals, visited it to review the contents of a certain secret drawer in the wardrobe, where were stored divers parchments, her jewel-casket, and a miniature of her deceased husband; and in those last words lies the secret of the red-room-the spell which kept it so lonely in spite of its grandeur.
Mr. Reed had been dead nine years: it was in this chamber he breathed his last; here he lay in state; hence his coffin was borne by the undertaker's men; and, since that day, a sense of dreary consecration had guarded it from frequent intrusion.
My seat, to which Bessie and the bitter Miss Abbot had left me riveted, was a low ottoman near the marble chimney-piece; the bed rose before me; to my right hand there was the high, dark wardrobe, with subdued, broken reflections varying the gloss of its panels; to my left were the muffled windows; a great looking-glass between them repeated the vacant majesty of the bed and room. I was not quite sure whether they had locked the door; and when I dared move, I got up and went to see. Alas! yes: no jail was ever more secure. Returning, I had to cross before the looking-glass; my fascinated glance involuntarily explored the depth it revealed. All looked colder and darker in that visionary hollow than in reality: and the strange little figure there gazing at me, with a white face and arms specking the gloom, and glittering eyes of fear moving where all else was still, had the effect of a real spirit: I thought it like one of the tiny phantoms, half fairy, half imp, Bessie's evening stories represented as coming out of lone, ferny dells in moors, and appearing before the eyes of belated travellers. I returned to my stool.
Superstition was with me at that moment; but it was not yet her hour for complete victory: my blood was still warm; the mood of the revolted slave was still bracing me with its bitter vigour; I had to stem a rapid rush of retrospective thought before I quailed to the dismal present.
All John Reed's violent tyrannies, all his sisters’proud indifference, all his mother's aversion, all the servants’partiality, turned up in my disturbed mind like a dark deposit in a turbid well.
Why was I always suffering, always browbeaten, always accused, for ever condemned? Why could I never please? Why was it useless to try to win any one's favour? Eliza, who was headstrong and selfish, was respected. Georgiana, who had a spoiled temper, a very acrid spite, a captious and insolent carriage, was universally indulged. Her beauty, her pink cheeks and golden curls, seemed to give delight to all who looked at her, and to purchase indemnity for every fault. John no one thwarted, much less punished; though he twisted the necks of the pigeons, killed the little pea-chicks, set the dogs at the sheep, stripped the hothouse vines of their fruit, and broke the buds off the choicest plants in the conservatory: he called his mother“old girl,”too; sometimes reviled her for her dark skin, similar to his own; bluntly disregarded her wishes; not unfrequently tore and spoiled her silk attire; and he was still“her own darling.”I dared commit no fault: I strove to fulfil every duty; and I was termed naughty and tiresome, sullen and sneaking, from morning to noon, and from noon to night.
My head still ached and bled with the blow and fall I had received: no one had reproved John for wantonly striking me; and because I had turned against him to avert farther irrational violence, I was loaded with general opprobrium.
“Unjust! -unjust!”said my reason, forced by the agonising stimulus into precocious though transitory power: and Resolve, equally wrought up, instigated some strange expedient to achieve escape from insupportable oppression-as running away, or, if that could not be effected, never eating or drinking more, and letting myself die.
What a consternation of soul was mine that dreary afternoon! How all my brain was in tumult, and all my heart in insurrection! Yet in what darkness, what dense ignorance, was the mental battle fought! I could not answer the ceaseless inward question-why I thus suffered; now, at the distance of-I will not say how many years, I see it clearly.
I was a discord in Gateshead Hall: I was like nobody there; I had nothing in harmony with Mrs. Reed or her children, or her chosen vassalage. If they did not love me, in fact, as little did I love them. They were not bound to regard with affection a thing that could not sympathise with one amongst them; a heterogeneous thing, opposed to them in temperament, in capacity, in propensities; a useless thing, incapable of serving their interest,or adding to their pleasure; a noxious thing, cherishing the germs of indignation at their treatment, of contempt of their judgment. I know that had I been a sanguine, brilliant, careless, exacting, handsome, romping child-though equally dependent and friendless-Mrs. Reed would have endured my presence more complacently; her children would have entertained for me more of the cordiality of fellow-feeling; the servants would have been less prone to make me the scapegoat of the nursery.
Daylight began to forsake the red-room; it was past four o'clock, and the beclouded afternoon was tending to drear twilight. I heard the rain still beating continuously on the staircase window, and the wind howling in the grove behind the hall; I grew by degrees cold as a stone, and then my courage sank. My habitual mood of humiliation, self-doubt, forlorn depression, fell damp on the embers of my decaying ire. All said I was wicked, and perhaps I might be so; what thought had I been but just conceiving of starving myself to death? That certainly was a crime: and was I fit to die? Or was the vault under the chancel of Gateshead Church an inviting bourne? In such vault I had been told did Mr. Reed lie buried; and led by this thought to recall his idea, I dwelt on it with gathering dread. I could not remember him; but I knew that he was my own uncle-my mother's brother-that he had taken me when a parentless infant to his house; and that in his last moments he had required a promise of Mrs. Reed that she would rear and maintain me as one of her own children. Mrs. Reed probably considered she had kept this promise; and so she had, I dare say, as well as her nature would permit her; but how could she really like an interloper not of her race, and unconnected with her, after her husband's death, by any tie? It must have been most irksome to find herself bound by a hard-wrung pledge to stand in the stead of a parent to a strange child she could not love, and to see an uncongenial alien permanently intruded on her own family group.
A singular notion dawned upon me. I doubted not-never doubted-that if Mr. Reed had been alive he would have treated me kindly; and now, as I sat looking at the white bed and overshadowed walls-occasionally also turning a fascinated eye towards the dimly gleaning mirror-I began to recall what I had heard of dead men, troubled in their graves by the violation of their last wishes, revisiting the earth to punish the perjured and avenge the oppressed; and I thought Mr. Reed's spirit, harassed by the wrongs of his sister's child, might quit its abode-whether in the church vault or in the unknown world of the departed-and rise before me in this chamber. I wiped my tears and hushed my sobs, fearful lest any sign of violent grief might waken a preternatural voice to comfort me, or elicit from the gloom some haloed face, bending over me with strange pity. This idea, consolatory in theory, I felt would be terrible if realised: with all my might I endeavoured to stifle it-I endeavoured to be firm. Shaking my hair from my eyes, I lifted my head and tried to look boldly round the dark room; at this moment a light gleamed on the wall. Was it, I asked myself, a ray from the moon penetrating some aperture in the blind? No;moonlight was still, and this stirred; while I gazed, it glided up to the ceiling and quivered over my head. I can now conjecture readily that this streak of light was, in all likelihood, a gleam from a lantern carried by some one across the lawn: but then, prepared as my mind was for horror, shaken as my nerves were by agitation, I thought the swift darting beam was a herald of some coming vision from another world. My heart beat thick, my head grew hot; a sound filled my ears, which I deemed the rushing of wings; something seemed near me; I was oppressed, suffocated: endurance broke down; I rushed to the door and shook the lock in desperate effort. Steps came running along the outer passage; the key turned, Bessie and Abbot entered.
“Miss Eyre, are you ill?”said Bessie.
“What a dreadful noise! it went quite through me!”exclaimed Abbot.
“Take me out! Let me go into the nursery!”was my cry.
“What for? Are you hurt? Have you seen something?”again demanded Bessie.
“Oh! I saw a light, and I thought a ghost would come.”I had now got hold of Bessie's hand, and she did not snatch it from me.
“She has screamed out on purpose,”declared Abbot, in some disgust.“And what a scream! If she had been in great pain one would have excused it, but she only wanted to bring us all here: I know her naughty tricks.”
“What is all this?”demanded another voice peremptorily; and Mrs. Reed came along the corridor, her cap flying wide, her gown rustling stormily.“Abbot and Bessie, I believe I gave orders that Jane Eyre should be left in the red-room till I came to her myself.”
“Miss Jane screamed so loud, ma'am,”pleaded Bessie.
“Let her go,”was the only answer.“Loose Bessie's hand, child: you cannot succeed in getting out by these means, be assured. I abhor artifice, particularly in children; it is my duty to show you that tricks will not answer: you will now stay here an hour longer, and it is only on condition of perfect submission and stillness that I shall liberate you then.”
“O aunt! have pity! Forgive me! I cannot endure it-let me be punished some other way! I shall be killed if-”
“Silence! This violence is all most repulsive:”and so, no doubt, she felt it. I was a precocious actress in her eyes; she sincerely looked on me as a compound of virulent passions, mean spirit, and dangerous duplicity.
Bessie and Abbot having retreated, Mrs. Reed, impatient of my now frantic anguish and wild sobs, abruptly thrust me back and locked me in, without farther parley. I heard her sweeping away; and soon after she was gone, I suppose I had a species of fit:unconsciousness closed the scene.
我一路反抗，對我來說這是新事物，這種情形大大增強了貝茜和阿博特小姐對我的惡感。事實上，我有點兒忘乎所以，或者像法國人常常說的那樣失常。我意識到一時的反抗會使我輕易遭到莫名其妙的懲罰。因此，像其他反抗的奴隸一樣，我決心不顧一切，竭盡全力。
“阿博特小姐，抓住她的胳膊，她就像一只瘋貓。”
“真可恥！真可恥！”夫人的女仆喊道，“愛小姐，你的行為真嚇人，竟敢打一位小紳士——你恩人的兒子！你的小主人。”
“主人！他怎么是我的主人呢？我是仆人嗎？”
“不，你還不如仆人，因為你白吃白住不干活。好了，坐下來，仔細想想你的惡行吧。”
這時，她們已經把我拽進了里德太太指定的房間，把我用力按在了凳子上。沖動之下，我像彈簧一樣一躍而起，她們的兩雙手立刻按住了我。
“你要是不安生坐著，我們就必須綁住你，”貝茜說，“阿博特小姐，把你的吊襪帶借給我，她馬上會把我的吊襪帶掙斷的。”
阿博特小姐轉過身，從她的一條粗腿上解下了那條必備的帶子。這項捆綁前的準備，以及由此產生的額外恥辱，稍微消除了我的激動情緒。
“別解了，”我嚷道，“我不動了。”
作為保證，我雙手緊緊貼在凳子上面。
“注意別動，”貝茜說。她確定我的確平靜下來，就松開了手。隨后，她和阿博特小姐兩臂交叉胸前站在那兒，臉色陰沉，懷疑地看著我，就像懷疑我心智是否健全一樣。
“她以前從來沒有這樣做過。”最后，貝茜轉向阿比蓋爾說。
“不過，她生性總是這樣，”對方答道，“我經常把自己對這個孩子的看法告訴太太，太太也同意我的看法。她是一個陰險的小東西。我從來沒有見過像她這樣年紀的女孩如此深藏不露。”
貝茜沒有回答，但過了一會兒，她說——“小姐，你應該明白，你受到的是里德太太的恩惠，是她養活你。要是她趕你走的話，你就不得不進救濟院了。”
我對這些話無言以對，它們對我并不新鮮。我生活的最初記憶包括一些同樣的暗示。在我聽來，這種責備我依靠別人生活的話已經成為一種模糊的調子，既讓人痛苦，又讓人難過，但又只是似懂非懂。阿博特小姐說道——
“你不應該因為太太好心把你跟里德小姐和少爺一起撫養長大，就以為自己跟他們平等。他們會有好多錢，而你一分錢都不會有。你要做的就是要謙恭，設法順從他們。”
“我們告訴你的這一切都是為你好，”貝茜補充道，聲音并不嚴厲，“你應該設法幫忙做事，討人喜歡，那樣說不定你會在這兒有一個家。但要是你意氣用事、粗魯無禮，我敢說太太會打發你走。”
“另外，”阿博特小姐說，“上帝會懲罰她。他說不定會在她發脾氣時把她打死，死后她會去哪兒呢？嗨，貝茜，我們隨她去吧。反正我是無法讓她動心了。愛小姐，你獨自待著時，就禱告吧，因為你要是不懺悔，說不定就會有壞東西順著煙囪下來把你帶走。”
她們關上門走了，并給門上了鎖。
紅屋是一個四方四正的房間，很少有人在里面睡覺，其實我可以說，從來沒有，除非蓋茨黑德府偶爾涌入一群客人時，才有必要利用所有房間。不過，這是府里最寬敞、最堂皇的房間之一。一張紅木床立于房間中央，碩大的床柱上掛著深紅色錦緞帷幔，猶如帳篷似的；兩扇始終拉下窗簾的大窗半掩在類似布料做成的彩飾和流蘇當中；地毯呈紅色，床腳邊的桌子上鋪著深紅色臺布；墻壁是柔和的淺黃褐色，其中帶有粉紅色；衣柜、梳妝臺和椅子都是烏黑锃亮的舊紅木做的。床上高高地堆著床墊和枕頭，上面鋪著一條雪白的馬賽布床罩，在四周深色調的襯托下白得耀眼。幾乎一樣突出的是床頭邊的一把鋪有坐墊的大安樂椅，也是白色，前面放有一只腳凳；我認為，看上去它像一個蒼白的王座。
這個屋里很少生火，冷颼颼的；它遠離保育室和廚房，靜悄悄的；因為大家都知道很少有人進去，所以顯得陰沉沉的。只有女仆星期六到這兒來，擦去一周來靜靜落在鏡子上和家具上的灰塵。還有里德太太本人隔很長時間才來一次，查看衣柜里某個秘密抽屜里的東西。這兒存放著各種各樣的羊皮紙文稿、她的首飾盒和她已故丈夫的微型畫像。最后那幾個詞就是紅屋的秘密——這個秘密有一種魔力，這使它盡管富麗堂皇，但冷冷清清。
里德先生已經去世九年了。他就是在這個房間里斷氣的；他就躺在這個靈堂里；他的棺材就是從這兒被承辦喪事的人抬走的；而且，從那天起，一種陰沉的祭奠氛圍使人不再經常闖入這兒。
貝茜和刻薄的阿博特小姐讓我牢牢坐著的是一只放在大理石壁爐架附近的低矮軟墊凳；床聳立在我的面前；我的右面是又黑又高的衣柜，衣柜上柔和斑駁的反光使鑲板的光澤不斷變幻；我的左面是關得嚴嚴實實的窗戶，兩扇窗戶之間的一面大鏡子映照出了床和房間的空曠威嚴。我拿不準她們是否鎖住了門，等敢走動時，我就起來去看看。哎呀！是的，牢房也絕不會鎖這么緊。返回去時，我必須從大鏡子面前經過，我的目光被吸引住了，不知不覺地探尋起了鏡子里顯露出的世界。在虛幻的空間里，看上去一切都比現實中更冷清、更陰沉。那個陌生小人在那兒凝視著我，潔白的臉上和胳膊上都蒙上了斑駁的陰影，在其他的一切都靜止時，一雙閃閃發亮的恐懼的眼睛在閃動著，真有幽靈的效果。我想，它就像一個半仙半人的小幽靈，就像貝茜在夜晚的故事里描繪的那樣，從沼澤地蕨類叢生的荒谷里冒出來，出現在晚歸的旅行者眼前。我回到了矮凳上。
這時，我迷信起來，但是，迷信還沒有完全占據上風。我仍然熱血沸騰，反叛的奴隸那種痛苦的情緒仍然鼓舞著我，我必須得阻擋往事的奔涌，才能不向陰暗的現實畏縮。
約翰·里德的一切專橫跋扈、他姐妹的一切高傲冷漠、他母親的一切厭惡、仆人們的一切偏心，都像一眼渾濁的井里的黑色沉淀物一樣，在我煩亂的心里翻騰起來。
為什么我總是受苦，總是戰戰兢兢，總是被人指責，永遠受到責難？為什么我永遠不能討人喜歡？為什么我盡力想贏得別人的青睞，卻沒用呢？伊萊扎任性自私，卻受到尊重。喬治亞娜愛發脾氣，刁鉆刻薄，吹毛求疵，傲慢無禮，卻得到大家的縱容。她的美貌、她的粉紅臉頰和金色鬈發，好像使她人見人愛，彌補了各種缺陷。沒有人阻撓約翰，更不用說懲罰了，盡管他扭斷鴿子的頸部，害死小孔雀，放狗咬羊，摘掉溫室藤蔓上的葡萄，掐掉暖房里上等花木的嫩芽，他還叫他的母親“老太婆”，有時因為她的黝黑皮膚像他自己而謾罵，他蠻橫地無視母親的心愿，經常撕毀她的絲綢服裝，而他卻還是“她自己的寶貝”。我不敢犯任何過失，我力爭盡職盡責，人們還是說我淘氣煩人，從早上到中午，從中午到夜里，都悶悶不樂、偷偷摸摸。
因為挨打和摔倒，我的頭仍然疼痛流血。約翰隨意打我，沒有人責備他；為了免受進一步的無理毆打，我反抗了一下，所以我受到了眾人的責罵。
“不公平——不公平！”我的理智說。受到痛苦的刺激，我的理智變得早熟，盡管是短暫的力量。決心也同樣受到了鼓舞，促使我采取某種奇怪的應急手段，逃脫難以忍受的壓迫——比如逃跑，要是無法奏效，那就不再吃喝，讓自己死去。
那個沉悶的下午，我心里是多么驚慌失措！我的整個腦袋是多么混亂，我的整顆心都在反抗！然而，那場內心斗爭又是多么模糊，多么愚鈍無知！我無法回答內心那個沒完沒了的問題——為什么我這樣受苦。目前，在相距——我不會說是多少年，我看得一清二楚。
我在蓋茨黑德府是一種不和諧。我在那兒跟任何人都不像，我跟里德太太、她的孩子們、她挑選的仆人都不和諧。事實上，他們不愛我，我也不大愛他們。他們不必熱情對待一個跟他們無法產生共鳴的人；一個在性情上、在能力上、在癖好上都跟他們背道而馳的異類；一個既不能迎合他們的趣味，也不能給他們增添快樂的無用東西；一個有害的東西，對他們的對待憤憤不平，對他們的見解卻又蔑視的討厭家伙。我知道，要是我是一個樂觀聰明、無憂無慮、漂亮頑皮、活蹦亂跳的孩子——即使同樣寄人籬下，無依無靠——里德太太也會對我的存在容忍，比較滿意；她的孩子們會對我有朋友之情，更加熱誠；仆人們也不會動不動就把我當成保育室的替罪羊。
日光開始舍棄紅屋，已過四點鐘了，陰沉的下午正漸漸走向陰沉的黃昏。我聽到雨還在不斷地敲打樓梯窗戶，風在門廳后面的小樹林里咆哮。我漸漸地像石頭一樣冰冷，隨后勇氣也消沉了。平常的屈辱情緒、缺乏自信、絕望沮喪澆在了我越來越弱的怒火上。大家都說我壞，說不定我就是那樣吧，我不是一直在想著餓死自己嗎？這當然是一種罪過。我該不該死呢？要么蓋茨黑德府教堂圣壇下的墓穴是一個誘人的歸宿？我聽說里德先生就安葬在這樣的墓穴里，這個念頭又引起了我對他的回憶，我越細想，就越害怕。我記不得他了，只知道他是我自己的舅父——我母親的哥哥——是他收養了我這個失去父母的嬰兒，并在彌留之際要里德太太答應把我當成她自己的孩子一樣來撫養。里德太太可能認為自己信守了承諾，我敢說，從本性來說，她踐行了當初的承諾。但是，她怎么能真心喜歡一個不屬于她家、丈夫過世后跟她沒有任何關系的外人呢？她發現自己受到這個勉為其難的保證的約束，充當一個她無法喜歡的陌生孩子的母親，看到一位志趣不合的外人永遠闖入她自己家人這個團隊，肯定是討厭極了。
我突然產生一個奇特的念頭。我不懷疑——從不懷疑——要是里德先生健在的話，他一定會善待我。現在，我坐在那兒，望著雪白的床和陰影覆蓋的墻——同時偶爾將著迷的目光轉向隱約閃光的鏡子——我開始想起了自己聽說過的死人的事兒，因為人們違背他們的遺愿，所以他們在墳墓里躁動不安，就再訪人間，懲罰發假誓的人，為受壓迫的人報仇。于是，我想，里德先生的幽靈受到外甥女冤屈的困擾，可能會走出墳墓——無論是在教堂地下墓室，還是在未知的逝者世界——來到這個房間，站在我的面前。我擦掉眼淚，忍住哭泣，擔心號啕大哭可能會驚動一個超自然的聲音來安慰我，要么是從昏暗中引出某個帶有光環的面孔，露出奇異憐憫的神情，彎腰看著我。這個念頭在理論上令人欣慰，但要是實現，我覺得會非常可怕。我竭盡全力不去想它——我盡力意志堅定。我抖去拂在眼上的頭發，抬起頭來，盡力斗膽環顧了黑洞洞的房間。這時，一道光在墻上閃了一下。我問自己，是一道月光透過百葉窗的縫隙照進來了嗎？不，月光是靜止的，這道光是動的。我凝視著，只見它滑到了天花板上，在我的頭頂上微微顫動。我現在能輕易地推測到，這道光十有八九是有人提著燈籠穿過草地時射進來的。而另一方面，我的腦子卻朝恐懼方面想，我的神經因激動而顫抖，我認為那道飛掠而過的光是某個幽靈從另一世界到來的預兆。我的心咚咚直跳，頭腦越來越熱，耳朵嗡嗡作響，我以為那是翅膀的急速拍動聲，好像什么東西靠近了我。我感到壓抑、窒息，再也無法忍受了。我沖到門口，拼命地搖晃門鎖。外面走廊上傳來了飛跑的腳步聲、鑰匙轉動聲，貝茜和阿博特走了進來。
“愛小姐，你病了嗎？”貝茜問道。
“多么可怕的聲音！那聲音完全穿透了我！”阿博特高聲嚷道。
“帶我出去！讓我進保育室吧！”我哭道。
“為什么？你受傷了嗎？你看到什么東西了嗎？”貝茜又問道。
“噢！我看到了一道光，我想一定是鬼來了。”我抓住了貝茜的手，她沒有從我手里拽走。
“她是故意尖叫的，”阿博特有些反感地說，“尖叫得真兇！她要是疼痛難忍，就可以原諒，但她只是想把我們引到這兒。我知道她的花招。”
“這一切是怎么回事？”另一個聲音蠻橫地問道。隨后，里德太太沿著走廊走來，她的帽子被風鼓得大大的，睡袍呼呼作響。“阿博特和貝茜，我想我下過令讓簡·愛留在紅屋里，要等我親自過來問她。”
“夫人，簡小姐尖叫得那樣響亮。”貝茜懇求說。
“放開她，”這是唯一的回答，“松開貝茜的手，孩子。放心，你用這些方法是出不去的。我痛恨花招，尤其是小孩子，我有責任讓你明白花招解決不了問題。你現在要在這兒多待一個小時，只要完全服從，一動不動，那我就放了你。”
“噢，舅媽！可憐可憐吧！饒了我吧！我受不了了——用別的辦法懲罰我吧！我會沒命的，要是——”
“安靜！這樣胡鬧大家真要煩死了！”毫無疑問，她就是這樣感覺的。在她的眼里，我是一個早熟的演員。她由衷地把我看成是一個居心叵測、靈魂卑鄙、口是心非的危險人物。
貝茜和阿博特退去后，里德太太無法容忍我現在拼命痛苦地嚎叫，沒有再談下去，突然把我向后一推，將我鎖在了里面。我聽到她揚長而去的聲音，她走后不久，我想我一陣痙攣，不省人事，結束了這個場景。