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her in there.Four hands were immediately | brought up with them. They will have a great laid upon me, and I was borne up stairs.

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," addCHAPTER II

ed Bessie, in no harsh voice ; "you should try I RESISTÊD all the way: a new thing for me, to be useful and pleasant, then perhaps you and a circumstance which greatly strengthened would have a home here ; but if you become the bad opinion Bessie and Miss Abbot were passionate and rude, missis will send you away, disposed to entertain of me. The fact is, I I am sure." was a trifle beside myself; or, rather, out of Besides," said Miss Abbot, “ God will pun myself, as the French would say; I was con- ish her; he might strike her dead in the midst scious that a moment's mutiny had already of her tantrums, and then where would she go? rendered me liable to strange penalties, and, Come, Bessie, we will leave her ; I wouldn't like any other rebel slave, I felt resolved, in have her heart for any thing. Say your pray, my desperation, to go all lengths.

ers, Miss Eyre, when you are by yourself; for “ Hold her arms, Miss Abbot; she's like a if you don't repent, something bad miglit be mad cat."

permitted to come down the chimney and fetch - For shame! for shame !'' cried the lady's- you away." maid. “ What shocking conduct, Miss Eyre, They went, shutting the door, and locking it to strike a young gentleman, your benefac- behind them. tress's son! your young master!"

The bed-room was a spare chamber, very sel"Master! How is he my master? Am Idom slept in ; I might say never, indeed, unless a servant?"

When a chance influx of visitors at Gateshead · No; you are less than a servant, for you Hall rendered it necessary to turn to account do nothing for your keep. There, sit down and all the accommodation it contained ; yet it was think over your wickedness."

one of the largest and stateliest chambers in They had got me by this time into the apart the mansion. A bed supported on massive ment indicated by Mrs. Reed, and had thrust pillars of mahogany, hung with curtains of deep me upon a stool ; my impulse was to rise from red damask, stood out like a tabernacle in the it like a spring; their two pairs of hands ar- center; the two large windows, with their rested me instantly.

blinds always drawn down, were half shrouded " If you don't sit still, you must be tied in festoons and falls of similar drapery ; tha down," said Bessie. “Miss Abbot, lend me carpet was red; the table at the foot of the bed your garters; she would break mine directly.” was covered with a crimson cloth; the walls

Miss Abbot turned to divest a stout leg of a soft fawn-color, with a blush of pink in it; the necessary ligature. This preparation for the wardrope, the toilet-table, the chairs were bonds, and the additional ignominy it inferred, of darkly-polished old mahogany. Out of these took a little of the excitement out of me.

deep surrounding shades rose high, and glared “Don't take them off,” I cried; " I will not white, the piled-up matresses and pillows of

the bed, spread with a snowy Marseilles counIn guaranty whereof I attached myself to terpane. Scarcely less prominent was an am- . my seat by my hands.

ple, cushioned easy-chair near the head of the “Mind you don't,” said Bessie; and when bed, also white, with a footstool before it; and she had ascertained that I was really subsid- looking, as I thought, like a pale throne. ing, she loosened her hold of me; then she and This room was chill, because it seldom had Miss Abbot stood with folded arms, looking a fire; it was siłent, because remote from the darkly and doubtfully on my face, as incredu- nursery and kitchens; solemn, because it was lous of my sanity.

known to be so seldom entered. The house“She never did so before," at last said Bes- maid alone came here on Saturdays, to wipe sie, turning to the Abigail.

from the mirrors and the furniture a week's “But it was always in her," was the reply. quiet dust; and Mrs. Reed herself, at far in" I've told missis often my opinion about the tervals, visited it to review the contents of a child, and missis agreed with me. She's an certain secret drawer in the wardrobe, where underhand little thing ; I never saw a girl of were stored divers parchments, her jewelher age with so much cover."

casket, and a miniature of her deceased husBessie answered not; but ere long, address. band; and in those last words lies the secret ing me, she said,

of the red-room-the spell which kept it so “ You ought to be aware, miss, that you are lonely in spite of its grandeur. under obligations to Mrs. Reed : she keeps you;

Mr. Reed had been dead nine years ; it was if she were to turn you off, you would have to in this chamber he breathed his last; here he go to the poor-house."

lay in state ; hence his coffin was borne by unI had nothing to say to these words; they dertaker's men; and, since that day, a sense were not new to me; my very first recollec- of dreary consecration had guarded it from fre. tions of existence included hints of the same quent intrusion. kind. This reproach of my dependence had be- My seat, to which Bessie and the bitter Miss corne a vague sing-song in my ear; very pain- Abbot had left me riveted, was a low ottoman, ful and crushing, but only half intelligible. near the marble chimney-piece; the bed rose Miss Abhot joined in :

before me; to my right hand there was the " And you ought not to think yourself on an high, dark wardrobe, with subdued, broken reequality with the Misses Reed and Master flections varying the gloss of its panels; to Reed, hecause missis kindly allows vu to be my left were the muffled windows; a great


100sing-glass between them repeated the va- in what darkness, what dense ignorance, was cant majesty of the bed and room. I was not the mental battle fought! I could not answer quite sure whether they had locked the door; the ceaseless inward question--why I thus suf. and, when I dared move, I got up, and went to fered ; now, at the distance of--I will not say

Alas! yes; no ail was ever more se- how many years, I see it clearly. cure. Returning, I had to cross before the I was a discord in Gateshead Hall; I wae looking-glass; my fascinated glance involun- like nobody there; I had nothing in harmony tarily explored the depth it revealed. All | with Mrs. Reed, or her children, or her chosen looked colder and darker in that visionary hol- vassalage. If they did not love me, in fact, as low than in reality, and the strange little figure little did I love them. They were not bound there gazing at me, with a white face and arms to regard with affection a thing that could not specking the gloom, and glittering eyes of fear sympathize with one among them; a heteromoving where all else was still, had the effect geneous thing, opposed to them in temperaof a real spirit. I thought it like one of the ment, in capacity, in propensities; a useless tiny phantoms, half fairy, half imp, Bessie's thing, incapable of serving their interest, or evening stories represented as coming up out adding to their pleasure; a noxious thing, cherof lone, ferny dells, in moors, and appearing ishing the germs of indignation at their treatbefore the eyes of belated travelers. I return- ment-of contempt of their judgment. I know ed to my stool.


that, had I been a sanguine, brilliant, careless, Superstition was with me at that moment, exacting, handsome, roinping child, though bui it was not yet her hour for complete vic- equally dependent and friendless, Mrs. Reed tory. My blood was still warm; the mood of would have endured my presence more comthe revolted slave was still bracing me with its placently; her children would have entertained bitter vigor; I had to stem a rapid rush of ret- for me more of the cordiality of fellow-feeling; rospective thought before I quailed to the dis- the servants would have been less prone to mal present.

make me the scape-goat of the nursery. All John Reed's violent tyrannies, all his sis- Daylight began to forsake the red-room. It ters' proud indifference, all his mother's aver- was past four o'clock, and the beclouded aftersion, all the servants' partiality, turned up in noon was tending to drear twilight. I heard my disturbed mind like a dark deposit in a tur- the rain still beating continuously on the stairbid well. Why was I always suffering, al- case window, and the wind howling in the grove ways browbeaten, always accused, forever behind the hall. I grew by degrees cold as a condemned? Why could I never please ? stone, and then my courage sunk. My habitual Why was it useless to try to win any one's fa- mood of humiliation, self-doubt, forlorn depres. vor? Eliza, who was headstrong and selfish, sion, fell damp on the embers of my decaying was respected. Georgiana, who had a spoiled ire. All said I was wicked, and perhaps I might temper, a very acrid spite, a captious and inso- be so-what thought had I been but just con lent carriage, was universally indulged. Her ceiving, of starving myself to death? That beauty-her pink cheeks and golden curls-certainly was a crime; and was I fit to die? seemed to give delight to all who looked at or was the vault under the chancel of Gatesher, and to purchase indemnity for every fault. head Church an inviting bourne? In such John, no one thwarted, much less punished, vault, I had been told, did Mr. Reed lie buried; though he twisted the necks of the pigeons, and led by this thought to recall his idea, i killed the little pea-chicks, set the dogs at the dweli on it with gathering dread. I could not sheep, stripped the hothouse vines of their remember him, but I knew that he was my fruit, and broke the buds off the choicest plants own uncle--my mother's brother; that he had in the conservatory; he called his mother - old taken me when a parentless infant to his house; girl," too; sometimes reviled her for her dark and that, in his last moments, he had required skin, similar to his own, bluntly disregarded a promise of Mrs. Reed that she would rear and her wishes; not unfrequently tore and spoiled maintain me as one of her own children. Mrs. her silk attire ; and he was still “ her own dar- Reed probably considered she had kept this ling.” I dared commit no fault; I strove to promise ; and so she had, I dare say, as well fultill every duty; and I was termed naughty as her nature would permit her; but how could and tiresome, sullen and sneaking, from morn- she really like an interloper not of her race, and ing to noon, and from noon to night.

unconnected with her, after her husband's My head still ached and bled with the blow death, by any tie? It must have been most and fall I had received. No one had reproved irksome to find herself bound by a hard-wrung John for wantonly striking me ; and because I pledge to stand in the stead of a parent to a had turned against him to avert further irra. strange child she could not love, and to see an tional violence, I was loaded with general op- uncongenial alien permanently intruded on her probrium.

own family group. “Unjust! unjust !” said my reason, forced A singular notion dawned upon me. I coubt by the agonizing stimulus into precocious, ed not-had never doubted-ihat, if Mr. Reed though transitory power; and Resolve, equal- had been alive, he would have treated me kindly wrought up, instigated some strange expe- ly; and now, as I sat looking at the white bed dient to achieve escape from insupportable and overshadowed walls, occasionally, also, oppression-as running away, or, if that could turning a fascinated eye toward the dimly. not be effected, never eating or drinking more, gleaming mirror, I began to recall what I had and letting myself die.

heard of dead men, troubled in their graves by What a consternation of soul was mine that the violation of their last wishes, revisiting the dreary afternoon! How all my brain was in earth to punish the perjured and avenge the op tumult, and all my heart in insurrection! Yet pressed; and I thought Mr. Reed's spirit, har


assed by the wrongs of his sister's child, might looked on me as a compound of virulent pas: quit its abode--whether in the church vault, or sions, mean spirit, and dangerous duplicity. in the unknown world of the departed and Bessie and Abbot having retreated, Mrs rise before me in this chamber. I wiped my Reed, impatient of my now frantic anguish ans tears and hushec my sobs, fearful lest any sign wild sobs, abruptly thrust me back and locked of violent grief nright waken a preternatural me in, without further parley. I heard tior voice to comfort me, or elicit from the gloom sweeping away; and soon after she was gone, some haloed face bending over me with strange I suppose I had a species of fit: unconsciouspity. This idea, consolatory in theory, I felt ness closed the scene. would be terrible if realized. With all my might I endeavored to stifle it-I endeavored to be firm. Shaking my hair from my eyes, I lifted my head and tried to look boldly round

CHAPTER III. the dark room. At this moment a light gleamed on the wall. Was it, I asked myself, a ray Tue next thing I remember is, waking us from the moon penetrating some aperture in with a feeling as if I had had a frightfuil miglithe blind? No; moonlight was still

, and this mare, and seeing before me a terrible reci stirred. While I gazed, it glided up to the ceil-glare, crossed with thick, black bars. I heara ing and quivered over my head. "I can now voices, too, speakir.g with a hollow sound, ani conjecture readily that this streak of light was, as if muffled by a rush of wind or water: 35.in all likelihood, a gleam from a lantern, car- tation, uncertainty, and an all-predominating ried by some one across the lawn; but then, sense of terror confused my faculties. Eic prepared as my mind was for horror, shaken as long, I became aware that some one was bani. my nerves were by agitation, I thought the ling me; lifting me up and supporting me in swift-darting beam was a herald of some com- a sitting posture: and that more tenderly thian ing vision from another world. My heart beat I ever been raised or upheld before. I restthick-my head grew hot; a sound filled my ed my head against a pillow or an arm, and felt cars, which I deemed the rushing of wings; easy. something seemed near me ; I was oppressed, In five minutes more, the cloud of bewildersuffocated; endurance broke down; I rushed ment dissolved: I knew quite well that I was to the door and shook the lock in desperate ef- in my own bed, and that the red glare was the tort. Steps came running along the outer pass. nursery fire. It was night: a candle burneil on age; the key turned; Bessie and Abbot en- the table; Bessie stood at the bed-foot with a tered.

a basin in her hand, and a gentleman sat in a Miss Eyre, are you ill ?" said Bessie.

chair near my pillow, leaning over me. " What a dreadful noise ! it went quite I felt an inexpressible relief, a soothing conthrough me!" exclaimed Abbot.

viction of protection and security, when I kreis " Take me out! Let me go into the nur- that there was a stranger in the room ; an insery!" was my cry.

dividual not belonging to Gateshead, and not só What for? Are you hurt? Have you related to Mrs. Reed. Turning from Bessie scen something?" again demanded Bessie.

(though her presence was far less obnoxious to “Oh! I saw a light, and I thought a ghost me than that of Abbot, for instance, would have would come." I had now got hold of Bessie's been), I scrutinized the face of the gentleman: hand, and she did not snatch it from me. I knew him ; it was Mr. Lloyd, an apothecary,

“She has screamed out on purpose ;" de- sometimes called in by Mrs. Reed when the clared Abbot, in some disgust. “ And what a servants were ailing; for herself and the chil. scream! If she had been in great pain one dren she employed a physician. would have excused it, but she only wanted to “Well, who am I ?" he asked. bring us all here : I know her wicked, naughty

I pronounced his name, offering him at ttio tricks."

same time my hand: he took it, smiling and " What is all this?" demanded another voice saying, “We shall do very well by and by." peremptorily; and Mrs. Reed came along the Then he laid me down, and addressing Bessie, corridor, her cap flying wide, her gown rustling charged her to be very careful that I was not stormily. “ Abbot and Bessie, I believe I gave disturbed during the night. Having given orders that Jane Eyre should be left in the red some further directions, and intimated that he room till I came to her myself.”

should call again the next day, he departed, lo “Miss Jane screamed so loud, ma'am," my grief; I felt so sheltered and befriended pleaded Bessie.

while he sat in the chair near my pillow; and “ Let her go," was the only answer. “Loose as he closed the door after him, all the room Bessie's hand, child : you can not succeed in darkened and my heart again sunk: inexpressgetting out by these means, be assured. I ab-ible sadness weighed it down. hor artifice, particularly in children ; it is my “Do you feel as if you should sleep, miss?" duty to show you that tricks will not answer; asked Bessie, rather softly. you will now stay here an hour longer, and it Scarcely dared I answer her ; for I feared is only on condition of perfect submission and the next sentence might be rough. “I will stillness that I shall liberate you then.”

try.” “Oh aunt, have pity! Forgive me! I can · Would you like to drink, or could you eat not endure it-let me be punished some other any thing ?" way! I shall be killed ifm."

No, thank you, Bessie." “Silence! This violence is almost repul- “ Then I think I shall go to bed, for it is past sive:” and so, no doubt, she felt it. I was a twelve o'clock; but you may call me if you precocious actress in her eyes : she sincerely want any thing in the night."

went out.

Wonderful civility this! It emboldened me circlet of delicate pastry upon it. Vain favor. in ask a question.

coming, like most other favors, long deferred Bessie, what is the matter with me? Am and often wished for, too late! I could not I ill?"

eat the tart; and the plumage of the bird, the You fell sick, I suppose, in the red-room tints of the flowers, seemed strangely faded : I with crying ; you'll be better soon, no doubt." put both plate and tart away. Bessie asked if

Bessie went into the housemaid's apartment I would have a book: the word book acted as a which was near. I heard her say:

transient stimulus, and I begged her to fetch “ Sarah, come and sleep with me in the nur- Gulliver's Travels from the library. This sery ; I daren't for my life be alone with that book I had again and again perused with poor child to.night; she might die : it's such a delight; I considered it a narrative of facts, strange thing she should have that fit; I won- and discovered in it a vein of interest deeper der if she saw any thing. Missis was rather than what I found in fairy tales : for as to the too hard."

elves, having sought them in vain among foxSarah came back with her; they both went glove leaves and bells, under mushrooms and to bed; they were whispering together for half beneath the ground-ivy mantling old wallan hour before they fell asleep. I caught nooks, I had at length made up my mind to scraps of their conversation, from which I was the sad truth that they were all gone out of able only too distinctly to infer the main sub- England to some savage country, where the ject discussed.

woods were wilder and thicker, and the popu“Something passed her, all dressed in white, lation more scant: whereas Lilliput and Broband vanished "_"A great black dog behind dignag being, in my creed, solid parts of the him”-- Three loud raps on the chamber earth's surface, I doubted not that I might one door”-“A light in the church-yard just over day, by taking a long voyage, see with my own his grave".&c., &c.

eyes the little fields, houses, and trees, the Ai last both slept : the fire and the candle diminutive people, the tiny cows, sheep. and

For me, the watches of that long birds of the one realm; and the corn-fields night passed in ghastly wakefulness; ear, eye, forest-high, the mighty mastiffs, the monster and mind were alike strained by dread: such cats, the tower-like men and women, of the dread as children only can feel.

other. Yet, when this cherished volume was No severe or prolonged bodily illness fol. now placed in my hand-when I turned over lowed this incident of the red-room: it only its leaves, and sought in its marvelous pictures gave my nerves a shock, of which I feel the the charm I had, till now, never failed to findreverberation to this day. Yes, Mrs. Reed, all was eerie and dreary; the giants were to you I owe some fearful pangs of mental gaunt goblins, the pigmies malevolent and fear suffering. But I ought to forgive you, for you ful imps, Gulliver a most desolate wanderer in knew not what' you did : while rending-my most dread and dangerous regions. I closed heart-strings, you thought you were only up- the book, which I dared no longer peruse, and rooting my bad propensities.

put it on the table, beside the untasted tart. Next day, by noon, I was up and dressed, Bessie had now finished dusting and tidying and sat wrapped in a shawl by the nursery the room, and, having washed her hands, she hearth. I felt physically weak and broken opened a certain little drawer, full of splendid down; but my worst ailment was an unutter- shreds of silk and satin, and began making a able wretchedness of mind : a wretchedness new bonnet for Georgiana's doll. Meantime which kept drawing from me silent tears; no she sang : her song was--sooner had I wiped one sait drop from my

“ In the days when we went gipsying, cheek than another followed. Yet, I thought,

A long time ago."
I ought to have been happy, for none of the
Reeds were there; they were all gone out in

I had often heard the song before, and althe carriage with their mamma: Abbot, too, was ways with lively delight; for Bessie had a sewing in another room, and Bessie, as she sweet voice-at least, I thought so. moved hither and thither, putting away toys though her voice was still sweet, I found in its and arranging drawers, addressed to me every melody an indescribable sadness. Sometimes, now and then a word of unwonted kindness. preoccupied with her work, she sang the reThis state of things should have been to me a frain very low, very lingeringly; “A long time paradise of peace, accustomed as I was to a ago" came out like the saddest cadence of a life of ceaseless reprimand and thankless fag- funeral hymn. She passed into another ballad, ging ; but, in fact, my racked nerves were now this time a really doleful one : in such a state that no calm could soothe, and

“My feet they are sore, and my limbs they are weary, n) .

Long is the way, and the mountains are wild; Bessie had been down into the kitchen, and Soon will the twilight close moonless and dreary she brought up with her a tart on a certain

Over the path of the poor orphan child. brightly-painted china plate, whose bird of “Why did they send me so far and so lonely, paradise, nestling in a wreath of convolvuli

Up where the moors spread and gray rocks are pileat

Men are hard-hearted, and kind angels only and rose-buds, had heen wont to stir in me a

Watch o'er the steps of a poor orphan chiki. most enthusiastic sense of admiration; and

" Yet distant and soft the night-breeze is blowing, which plate I had often petitioned to be

Clouds there are none, and clear stars beam mild: allowed to take in my hand in order to ex- God, in Flis mercy, protection is showing, amine it more closely, but had always hitherto

Confort and hope to the poor orphan child been deemed unworthy of such a privilege. “Even should I fall o'er the broken bridge passing,

Or stray in the marshes, by false liglats beguiled, This precious vessel was now placed on my

Still will niy Father, with promise and blessing knee, and I was cordially invited to eat the Take to His bosom the poor orphan child

But now, any pain ?"

* There is a thought that for strength should avail me, Nonsense! And is it that makes you so Though both of shelter and kindred despoiled;

miserable ? Are you afraid now in daylight ?' Heaven is a hoine, and a rest will not fail me.; God is a friend to the poor orphan child."

“No; but night will come again before long;

and, besides, I am unhappy, very unhappy, for Come, Miss Jane, don't cry," said Bessie, other things. " as she finished. She might as well have said " What other things? Can you tell me some to the fire “don't burn !" but how could she of them ?" divine the morbid suffering to which I was a How much I wished to reply fully to this prey ? In the course of the morning Mr. Lloyd question! Huw difficult it was to frame any came again.

answer! Children can feel, but they can not What, already up!" said he, as he entered | analyze their feelings; and if the analysis is the nursery Well, nurse, how is she ?"

partially effected in thought, they know not Bessie answered that I was doing very well. how to express the result of the process in

Then she ought to look more cheerful. words. Fearful, however, of losing this first Come here, Miss Jane; your name is Jane, is and only opportunity of relieving my grief by it not ?"

imparting it, I, after a disturbed pause, conYes, sir, Jane Eyre."

trived to frame a meager, though, as far as it “Well, you have been crying, Miss Jane went, true response. Eyre ; can you tell me what about? Have you " For one thing, I have no father or mother,

brothers or sisters." No, sir.is

“ You have a kind aunt and cousins." “Oh! I dare say she is crying because she Again I paused; then bunglingly enounced : could not go out with missis in the carriage,” But John Reed knocked me down, and my interposed Bessie.

aunt shut me up in the red-room." “ Surely not! why, she is too old for such Mr. Lloyd a second time produced his snuff: pettishness.”

box. I thought so too; and my self-esteem being “Don't you think Gateshead Hall a very wounded by the false charge, I answered beautiful house ?" asked he. “ Are you not promptly, “I never cried for such a thing in very thankful to have such a fine place to live my life : I hate going out in the carriage. I at ?" cry because I am miserable."

“ It is not my house, sir; and Abbot says ] 6* Oh, fie, miss !” said Bessie.

have less right to be here than a servant." The good apothecary appeared a little puz- Pooh! you can't be silly enough to wish in zled. I was standing before him; he fixed his leave such a splendid place ?" eyes on me very steadily : his eyes were small If I had any where else to go, I should be and gray ; not very bright, but I dare say I glad to leave it, but I can never get away from should think them shrewd now: he had a hard-Gateshead till I am a woman." featured yet good-natured looking face. Having “ Perhaps you may--who knows? Have considered me at leisure, he said

you any relations besides Mrs. Reed ?" “ What made you ill yesterday ?"

“I think not, sir." “ She had a fall,” said Bessie, again putting “None belonging to your father ?'' in her word.

“I don't know: I asked Aunt Reed onco “ Fall! why that is like a baby again! Can't and she said possibly I might have some poor, slie manage to walk at her age? She must be low relations called Eyre; but she knew nothing eight or nine years old.”

about them." "I was knocked down," was the blunt ex- “ If you had such, would you like to go to planation jerked out of me by another pang off them ?" mortified pride : “but that did not make me I reflected. Poverty looks grim to grown ill," I added, while Mr. Lloyd helped himself people; still more so to children: they have to a pinch of snuff.

not much idea of industrious, working, respectAs he was returning the box to his waistcoat able poverty; they think of the word only as pocket, a loud bell rung for the servant's din- connected with ragged clothes, scanty food, ner; he knew what it was. “That's for you, fireless grates, rude manners, and debasing nurse," said he ; "you can go down ; I'll give vices : poverty for me was synonymous with Miss Jane a lecture till you come back." degradation.

Bessie would rather have stayed ; but she No; I should not like to belong to poor was obliged to go, because punctuality at meals people," was my reply. was rigidly enforced at Gateshead Hall.

“Not even if they were kind to you ?" “ The fall did not make you ill? what did, I shook my head: I could not see how poor then ?" pursued Mr. Lloyd, when Bessie was people had the means of being kind; and then gone.

to learn to speak like them, to adopt their man“I was shut up in a room where there is a ners, to be uneducated, to grow up like one of ghost, till after dark."

the poor women I saw sometimes nursing their I saw Mr. Lloyd sinile and frown at the same children or washing their clothes at the cottage time: “Ghost! What, you are a baby after doors of the village of Gateshead; no, I was all! You are afraid of ghosts?"

not heroic enough to purchase liberty at the “Of Mr Reed's ghost I am: he died in that price of caste. room, and was laid out there. Neither Bessie “But are your relatives so very poor? Aro aor any one else will go into it at night, if they they working people ?" can belp it ; and it was cruel to shut me up “I can not tell. Aunt Reed says if I have alone without a candle--so cruel that I think I any, they must be a beggarly set ; I should not shall never forget it."

like to go a-begging."

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