agitation； uncertainty； and an all…predominating sense of terror
confused my faculties。 Ere long； I became aware that some one was
handling me； lifting me up and supporting me in a sitting posture； and
that more tenderly than I had ever been raised or upheld before。 I
rested my head against a pillow or an arm； and felt easy。
In five minutes more the cloud of bewilderment dissolved： I knew
quite well that I was in my own bed； and that the red glare was the
nursery fire。 It was night： a candle burnt on the table； Bessie
stood at the bed…foot with a basin in her hand； and a gentleman sat in
a chair near my pillow； leaning over me。
I felt an inexpressible relief； a soothing conviction of protection
and security； when I knew that there was a stranger in the room； an
individual not belonging to Gateshead； and not related to Mrs。 Reed。
Turning from Bessie （though her presence was far less obnoxious to
me than that of Abbot； for instance； would have been）； I scrutinised
the face of the gentleman： I knew him； it was Mr。 Lloyd； an
apothecary； sometimes called in by Mrs。 Reed when the servants were
ailing： for herself and the children she employed a physician。
'Well； who am I？' he asked。
I pronounced his name； offering him at the same time my hand： he
took it； smiling and saying； 'We shall do very well by and by。' Then
he laid me down； and addressing Bessie； charged her to be very careful
that I was not disturbed during the night。 Having given some further
directions； and intimated that he should call again the next day； he
departed； to my grief： I felt so sheltered and befriended while he sat
in the chair near my pillow； and as he closed the door after him；
all the room darkened and my heart again sank： inexpressible sadness
weighed it down。
'Do you feel as if you should sleep； Miss？' asked Bessie； rather
softly。
Scarcely dared I answer her； for I feared the next sentence might
be rough。 'I will try。'
'Would you like to drink； or could you eat anything？'
'No； thank you； Bessie。'
'Then I think I shall go to bed； for it is past twelve o'clock； but
you may call me if you want anything in the night。'
Wonderful civility this！ It emboldened me to ask a question。
'Bessie； what is the matter with me？ Am I ill？'
'You fell sick； I suppose； in the red…room with crying； you'll be
better soon； no doubt。'
Bessie went into the housemaid's apartment； which was near。 I heard
her say…
'Sarah； come and sleep with me in the nursery； I daren't for my
life be alone with that poor child tonight： she might die； it's such a
strange thing she should have that fit： I wonder if she saw
anything。 Missis was rather too hard。'
Sarah came back with her； they both went to bed； they were
whispering together for half an hour before they fell asleep。 I caught
scraps of their conversation； from which I was able only too
distinctly to infer the main subject discussed。
'Something passed her； all dressed in white； and vanished'… 'A
great black dog behind him'… 'Three loud raps on the chamber door'…
'A light in the churchyard just over his grave；' etc。； etc。
At last both slept： the fire and the candle went out。 For me； the
watches of that long night passed in ghastly wakefulness； ear； eye；
and mind were alike strained by dread： such dread as children only can
feel。
No severe or prolonged bodily illness followed this incident of the
red…room； it only gave my nerves a shock of which I feel the
reverberation to this day。 Yes； Mrs。 Reed； to you I owe some fearful
pangs of mental suffering； but I ought to forgive you； for you knew
not what you did： while rending my heart…strings； you thought you were
only uprooting my bad propensities。
Next day； by noon； I was up and dressed； and sat wrapped in a shawl
by the nursery hearth。 I felt physically weak and broken down： but
my worse ailment was an unutterable wretchedness of mind： a
wretchedness which kept drawing from me silent tears； no sooner had
I wiped one salt drop from my cheek than another followed。 Yet； I
thought； I ought to have been happy； for none of the Reeds were there；
they were all gone out in the carriage with their mama。 Abbot； too；
was sewing in another room； and Bessie； as she moved hither and
thither； putting away toys and arranging drawers； addressed to me
every now and then a word of unwonted kindness。 This state of things
should have been to me a paradise of peace； accustomed as I was to a
life of ceaseless reprimand and thankless fagging； but； in fact； my
racked nerves were now in such a state that no calm could soothe；
and no pleasure excite them agreeably。
Bessie had been down into the kitchen； and she brought up with
her a tart on a certain brightly painted china plate； whose bird of
paradise； nestling in a wreath of convolvuli and rosebuds； had been
wont to stir in me a most enthusiastic sense of admiration； and
which plate I had often petitioned to be allowed to take in my hand in
order to examine it more closely； but had always hitherto been
deemed unworthy of such a privilege。 This precious vessel was now
placed on my knee； and I was cordially invited to eat the circlet of
delicate pastry upon it。 Vain favour！ coming； like most other
favours long deferred and often wished for； too late！ I could not
eat the tart； and the plumage of the bird； the tints of the flowers；
seemed strangely faded： I put both plate and tart away。 Bessie asked
if I would have a book： the word book acted as a transient stimulus；
and I begged her to fetch Gulliver's Travels from the library。 This
book I had again and again perused with delight。 I considered it a
narrative of facts； and discovered in it a vein of interest deeper
than what I found in fairy tales： for as to the elves； having sought
them in vain among fox…glove leaves and bells； under mushrooms and
beneath the ground…ivy mantling old wall…nooks； I had at length made
up my mind to the sad truth； that they were all gone out of England to
some savage country where the woods were wilder and thicker； and the
population more scant； whereas； Lilliput and Brobdingnag being； in
my creed； solid parts of the earth's surface； I doubted not that I
might one day； by taking a long voyage； see with my own eyes the
little fields； houses； and trees； the diminutive people； the tiny
cows； sheep； and birds of the one realm； and the corn…fields；
forest…high； the mighty mastiffs； the monster cats； the tower…like men
and women； of the other。 Yet； when this cherished volume was now
placed in my hand… when I turned over its leaves； and sought in its
marvellous pictures the charm I had； till now； never failed to find…
all was eerie and dreary； the giants were gaunt goblins； the pigmies
malevolent and fearful imps； Gulliver a most desolate wanderer in most
dread and dangerous regions。 I closed the book； which I dared no
longer peruse； and put it on the table； beside the untasted tart。
Bessie had now finished dusting and tidying the room； and having
washed her hands； she opened a certain little drawer； full of splendid
shreds of silk and satin； and began making a new bonnet for
Georgiana's doll。 Meantime she sang： her song was…
'In the days when we were gipsying；
A long time ago。'
I had often heard the song before； and always with lively
delight； for Bessie had a sweet voice；… at least； I thought so。 But
now； though her voice was still sweet； I found in its melody an
indescribable sadness。 Sometimes； preoccupied with her work； she
sang the refrain very low； very lingeringly； 'A long time ago' came
out like the saddest cadence of a funeral hymn。 She passed into
another ballad； this time a really doleful one。
'My feet they are sore； and my limbs they are weary；
Long is the way； and the mountains are wild；
Soon will the twilight close moonless and dreary
Over the path of the poor orphan child。
Why did they send me so far and so lonely；
Up where the moors spread and grey rocks are piled？
Men are hard…hearted； and kind angels only
Watch o'er the steps of a poor orphan child。
Yet distant and soft the night breeze is blowing；
Clouds there are none； and clear stars beam mild；
God； in His mercy； protection is showing；
Comfort and hope to the poor orphan child。
Ev'n should I fall o'er the broken bridge passing；
Or stray in the marshes； by false lights beguiled；
Still will my Father； with promise and blessing；
Take to His bosom the poor orphan child。
There is a thought that for strength should avail me；
Though both of shelter and kindred despoiled；
Heaven is a home； and a rest will not fail me；
God is a friend to the poor orphan child。'
'Come； Miss Jane； don't cry；' said Bessie as she finished。 She
might as well have said to the fire； 'don't burn！' but how could she
divine the morbid suffering to which I was a prey？ In the course of
the morning Mr。 Lloyd came again。
'What； already