After dinner, we immediately adjourned to the schoolroom: lessonsrecommenced, and were continued till five o'clock.
The only marked event of the afternoon was, that I saw the girlwith whom I had conversed in the verandah dismissed in disgrace byMiss Scatcherd from a history class, and sent to stand in the middleof the large schoolroom. The punishment seemed to me in a highdegree ignominious, especially for so great a girl- she lookedthirteen or upwards. I expected she would show signs of great distressand shame; but to my surprise she neither wept nor blushed:composed, though grave, she stood, the central mark of all eyes.'How can she bear it so quietly- so firmly?' I asked of myself.'Were I in her place, it seems to me I should wish the earth to openand swallow me up. She looks as if she were thinking of somethingbeyond her punishment- beyond her situation: of something not roundher nor before her. I have heard of day-dreams- is she in aday-dream now? Her eyes are fixed on the floor, but I am sure theydo not see it- her sight seems turned in, gone down into her heart:she is looking at what she can remember, I believe; not at what isreally present. I wonder what sort of a girl she is- whether good ornaughty.'
Soon after five P.M. we had another meal, consisting of a small mugof coffee, and half a slice of brown bread. I devoured my bread anddrank my coffee with relish; but I should have been glad of as muchmore- I was still hungry. Half an hour's recreation succeeded, thenstudy; then the glass of water and the piece of oat-cake, prayers, andbed. Such was my first day at Lowood.
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CHAPTER VI--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE next day commenced as before, getting up and dressing byrushlight; but this morning we were obliged to dispense with theceremony of washing; the water in the pitchers was frozen. A changehad taken place in the weather the preceding evening, and a keennorth-east wind, whistling through the crevices of our bedroom windowsall night long, had made us shiver in our beds, and turned thecontents of the ewers to ice.
Before the long hour and a half of prayers and Bible-reading wasover, I felt ready to perish with cold. Breakfast-time came at last,and this morning the porridge was not burnt; the quality waseatable, the quantity small. How small my portion seemed! I wishedit had been doubled.
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:-
'Burns' (such it seems was her name: the girls here were all calledby their surnames, as boys are elsewhere), 'Burns, you are standing onthe side of your shoe; turn your toes out immediately.' 'Burns, youpoke your chin most unpleasantly; draw it in.' 'Burns, I insist onyour holding your head up; I will not have you before me in thatattitude,' etc. etc.
A chapter having been read through twice, the books were closed andthe girls examined. The lesson had comprised part of the reign ofCharles I, and there were sundry questions about tonnage andpoundage and ship-money, which most of them appeared unable to answer;still, every little difficulty was solved instantly when it reachedBurns: her memory seemed to have retained the substance of the wholelesson, and she was ready with answers on every point. I keptexpecting that Miss Scatcherd would praise her attention; but, insteadof that, she suddenly cried out-
'You dirty, disagreeable girl! you have never cleaned your nailsthis morning!'
Burns made no answer: I wondered at her silence.
'Why,' thought I, 'does she not explain that she could neitherclean her nails nor wash her face, as the water was frozen?'
My attention was now called off by Miss Smith desiring me to hold askein of thread: while she was winding it, she talked to me fromtime to time, asking whether I had ever been at school before, whetherI could mark, stitch, knit, etc.; till she dismissed me, I could notpursue my observations on Miss Scatcherd's movements. When Ireturned to my seat, that lady was just delivering an order of which Idid not catch the import; but Burns immediately left the class, andgoing into the small inner room where the books were kept, returned inhalf a minute, carrying in her hand a bundle of twigs tied together atone end. This ominous tool she presented to Miss Scatcherd with arespectful curtsey; then she quietly, and without being told, unloosedher pinafore, and the teacher instantly and sharply inflicted on herneck a dozen strokes with the bunch of twigs. Not a tear rose toBurns's eye; and, while I paused from my sewing, because my fingersquivered at this spectacle with a sentiment of unavailing and impotentanger, not a feature of her pensive face altered its ordinaryexpression.
'Hardened girl!' exclaimed Miss Scatcherd; 'nothing can correct youof your slatternly habits: carry the rod away.'
Burns obeyed: I looked at her narrowly as she emerged from thebook-closet; she was just putting back her handkerchief into herpocket, and the trace of a tear glistened on her thin cheek.
The play-hour in the evening I thought the pleasantest fractionof the day at Lowood: the bit of bread, the draught of coffeeswallowed at five o'clock had revived vitality, if it had notsatisfied hunger: the long restraint of the day was slackened; theschoolroom felt warmer than in the morning- its fires being allowed toburn a little more brightly, to supply, in some measure, the placeof candles, not yet introduced: the ruddy gloaming, the licenseduproar, the confusion of many voices gave one a welcome sense ofliberty.
On the evening of the day on which I had seen Miss Scatcherd flogher pupil, Burns, I wandered as usual among the forms and tables andlaughing groups without a companion, yet not feeling lonely: when Ipassed the windows, I now and then lifted a blind, and looked out;it snowed fast, a drift was already forming against the lower panes;putting my ear close to the window, I could distinguish from thegleeful tumult within, the disconsolate moan of the wind outside.
Probably, if I had lately left a good home and kind parents, thiswould have been the hour when I should most keenly have regrettedthe separation; that wind would then have saddened my heart, thisobscure chaos would have disturbed my peace! as it was, I derived fromboth a strange excitement, and reckless and feverish, I wished thewind to howl more wildly, the gloom to deepen to darkness, and theconfusion to rise to clamour.
Jumping over forms, and creeping under tables, I made my way to oneof the fire-places; there, kneeling by the high wire fender, I foundBurns, absorbed, silent, abstracted from all round her by thecompanionship of a book, which she read by the dim glare of theembers.
'Is it still Rasselas?' I asked, coming behind her.
'Yes,' she said, 'and I have just finished it.'
And in five minutes more she shut it up. I was glad of this.
'Now,' thought I, 'I can perhaps get her to talk.' I sat down byher on the floor.
'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 ofScotland.'
'Will you ever go back?'
'I hope so; but nobody can be sure of the future.'
'You must wish to leave Lowood?'
'No! why should I? I was sent to Lowood to get an education; and itwould be of no use going away until I have attained that object.'
'But that teacher, Miss Scatcherd, is so cruel to you?'
'Cruel? Not at all! She is severe: she dislikes my faults.'
'And if I were in your place I should dislike her; I shouldresist her. If she struck me with that rod, I should get it from herhand; I should break it under her nose.'
'Probably you would do nothing of the sort: but if you did, Mr.Brocklehurst would expel you from the school; that would be a greatgrief to your relations. It is far better to endure patiently asmart which nobody feels but yourself, than to commit a hasty actionwhose evil consequences will extend to all connected with you; andbesides, the Bible bids us return good for evil.'
'But then it seems disgraceful to be flogged, and to be sent tostand in the middle of a room full of people; and you are such a greatgirl: I am far younger than you, and I could not bear it.'
'Yet it would be your duty to bear it, if you could not avoid it:it is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to berequired to bear.'
I heard her with wonder: I could not comprehend this doctrine ofendurance; and still less could I understand or sympathise with theforbearance she expressed for her chastiser. Still I felt that HelenBurns considered things by a light invisible to my eyes. I suspectedshe might be right and I wrong; but I would not ponder the matterdeeply; like Felix, I put it off to a more convenient season.
'You say you have faults, Helen: what are they? To me you seem verygood.'
'Then learn from me, not to judge by appearances: I am, as MissScatcherd said, slatternly; I seldom put, and never keep, things inorder; I am careless; I forget rules; I read when I should learn mylessons; I have no method; and sometimes I say, like you, I cannotbear to be subjected to systematic arrangements. This is all veryprovoking to Miss Scatcherd, who is naturally neat, punctual, andparticular.'
'And cross and cruel,' I added; but Helen Burns would not admitmy addition: she kept silence.
'Is Miss Temple as severe to you as Miss Scatcherd?'
At the utterance of Miss Temple's name, a soft smile flitted overher grave face.
'Miss Temple is full of goodness; it pains her to be severe toany one, even the worst in the school: she sees my errors, and tellsme of them gently; and if I do anything worthy of praise, she gives memy meed liberally. One strong proof of my wretchedly defectivenature is, that even her expostulations, so mild, so rational, have noinfluence to cure me of my faults; and even her praise, though I valueit most highly, cannot stimulate me to continued care and foresight.'
'That is curious,' said I, 'it is so easy to be careful.'
'For you I have no doubt it is. I observed you in your class thismorning, and saw you were closely attentive: your thoughts neverseemed to wander while Miss Miller explained the lesson and questionedyou. Now, mine continually rove away; when I should be listening toMiss Scatcherd, and collecting all she says with assiduity, often Ilose the very sound of her voice; I fall into a sort of dream.Sometimes I think I am in Northumberland, and that the noises I hearround me are the bubbling of a little brook which runs throughDeepden, near our house;- then, when it comes to my turn to reply, Ihave to be awakened; and having heard nothing of what was read forlistening to the visionary brook, I have no answer ready.'
'Yet how well you replied this afternoon.'
'It was mere chance; the subject on which we had been reading hadinterested me. This afternoon, instead of dreaming of Deepden, I waswondering how a man who wished to do right could act so unjustly andunwisely as Charles the First sometimes did; and I thought what a pityit was that, with his integrity and conscientiousness, he could see nofarther than the prerogatives of the crown. If he had but been able tolook to a distance, and see how what they call the spirit of the agewas tending! Still, I like Charles- I respect him- I pity him, poormurdered king! Yes, his enemies were the worst: they shed blood theyhad no right to shed. How dared they kill him!'
Helen was talking to herself now: she had forgotten I could notvery well understand her- that I was ignorant, or nearly so, of thesubject she discussed. I recalled her to my level.
'And when Miss Temple teaches you, do your thoughts wander then?'
'No, certainly, not often: because Miss Temple has generallysomething to say which is newer than my own reflections; herlanguage is singularly agreeable to me, and the information shecommunicates is often just what I wished to gain.'
'Well, then, with Miss Temple you are good?'
'Yes, in a passive way: I make no effort; I follow as inclinationguides me. There is no merit in such goodness.'
'A great deal: you are good to those who are good to you. It is allI ever desire to be. If people were always kind and obedient tothose who are cruel and unjust, the wicked people would have it alltheir own way: they would never feel afraid, and so they would neveralter, but would grow worse and worse. When we are struck at without areason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should- sohard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again.'
'You will change your mind, I hope, when you grow older: as yet youare but a little untaught girl.'
'But I feel this, Helen; I must dislike those who, whatever I do toplease them, persist in disliking me; I must resist those who punishme unjustly. It is as natural as that I should love those who showme affection, or submit to punishment when I feel it is deserved.'
'Heathens and savage tribes hold that doctrine, but Christiansand civilised nations disown it.'
'How? I don't understand.'
