Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë Page B

thoughts never seemed to wander while Miss Miller explained the lesson and questioned you. Now, mine continually rove away; when I should be listening to Miss Scatcherd, and collecting all she says with assiduity, often I lose 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 hear round me are the bubbling of a little brook which runs through Deepden, near our house;—then, when it comes to my turn to reply, I have to be awakened; and having heard nothing of what was read for listening 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 had interested me. This afternoon, instead of dreaming of Deepden, I was wondering how a man who wished to do right could act so unjustly and unwisely as Charles the First sometimes did; and I thought what a pity it was that, with his integrity and conscientiousness, he could see no farther than the prerogatives of the crown. If he had but been able to look to a distance, and see how what they call the spirit of the age was tending! Still, I like Charles—I respect him—I pity him, poor murdered king! Yes, his enemies were the worst: they shed blood they had no right to shed. How dared they kill him!”
    Helen was talking to herself now: she had forgotten I could not very well understand her—that I was ignorant, or nearly so, of the subject 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 generally something to say which is newer than my own reflections; her language is singularly agreeable to me, and the information she communicates 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 inclination guides me. There is no merit in such goodness.”
    “A great deal: you are good to those who are good to you. It is all I ever desire to be. If people were always kind and obedient to those who are cruel and unjust, the wicked people would have it all their own way: they would never feel afraid, and so they would never alter, but would grow worse and worse. When we are struck at without a reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should—so hard 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 you are but a little untaught girl.”
    “But I feel this, Helen; I must dislike those who, whatever I do to please them, persist in disliking me; I must resist those who punish me unjustly. It is as natural as that I should love those who show me affection, or submit to punishment when I feel it is deserved.”
    “Heathens and savage tribes hold that doctrine, but Christians and civilised nations disown it.”
    “How? I don’t understand.”
    “It is not violence that best overcomes hate—nor vengeance that most certainly heals injury.”
    “What then?”
    “Read the New Testament, and observe what Christ says, and how He acts; make His word your rule, and His conduct your example.”
    “What does He say?”
    “Love your enemies; bless them that curse you; do good to them that hate you and despitefully use you.”
    “Then I should love Mrs. Reed, which I cannot do; I should bless her son, John, which is impossible.”
    In her turn, Helen Burns asked me to explain, and I proceeded forthwith to pour out, in my own way, the tale of my sufferings and resentments. Bitter and truculent when excited, I spoke as I felt, without reserve or softening.
    Helen heard me patiently to the end: I expected she would then make a remark, but she said nothing.
    “Well,” I asked impatiently, “is not Mrs. Reed a hard-hearted, bad woman?”
    “She has been unkind to you, no doubt; because, you see, she dislikes your cast of