<i>My name is Jane Eyre...</i>
<i>I was born in 1820, a harsh time of change in England.</i>
<i>Money and position seemed all that mattered.</i>
<i>Charity was a cold and disagreeable word.</i>
<i>Religion too often wore a mask of bigotry and cruelty.</i>
<i>There was no proper place for the poor of the unfortunate.</i>
<i>I had no father or mother, brother or sister.</i>
<i>As a child I lived with my aunt, Mrs Reed of Gateshead Hall.</i>
<i>I do not remember that she ever spoke one kind word to me.</i>
Careful, Bessie. She bites.
Come on out, Jane Eyre.
Mrs. Reed wants to see you in the drawing room.
- Go on, knock. Knock. - Don't bully the child.
Come in.
This, Mr. Brocklehurst, is the child in question.
She's the daughter of my late husband's sister.
By an unfortunate union, which we in the family prefer to forget.
For some years she's lived in this house.
The recipient, I can clearly see, of every care...
which her loving benefactress could lavish upon her.
Come here, little girl.
- What is your name? - Jane Eyre, sir.
Well, Jane Eyre, and are you a good child?
- The less said on that subject the better. - Indeed.
Only this morning she struck her little cousin most brutally...
and without provocation.
- That isn't true! He hit me first. - Jane. Silence!
- John, dear, did you strike her first? - No indeed, Mama.
You did. You knocked me down and hit my head and made it bleed!
- I did not! - You did!
- Silence! - You did! You did!
I won't listen to your odious lies.
You see, Mr. Brocklehurst, how passionate and wicked she is.
I do indeed.
Come here, child.
You and I must have some talk.
No sight so sad as that of a wicked child.
Do you know where the wicked go after death?
They go to hell.
- And what is hell? - A pit full of fire.
And should you like to fall into that pit and be burning there forever?
- No, sir. - Then what must you do to avoid it?
I must keep in good health and not die.
But children younger than you die daily.
Only last week we buried a little child of 5.
A good little child whose soul is now in heaven.
But what of your soul?
I don't see why it shouldn't go to heaven too.
You don't see.
But others see clearly enough, do they not?
- You have heard the name of Lowood? - No, sir.
It is a school for unfortunate orphans.
My estate lies within a mile...
and as chairman of the board, I spend much time in its supervision.
Would you like to go there, little girl?
You mean not live here anymore?
I don't know what Aunt Reed would say.
It was your kind benefactress who suggested the plan.
- Do you wish to go? - Yes, sir.
You've made a wise choice. Wiser than you know.
And now you must pray God to take away your heart of stone...
and make you meek and humble and penitent.
And you may rest assured, Mrs. Reed...
we shall do our best to collaborate with the Almighty.
- Bessie. - Yes, Jane?
I never dreamt I'd get away from here till I was quite grown up.
Won't you even be sorry to leave your poor old Bessie?
What does Bessie care for me? She's always scolding and punishing.
All the same, I am rather sorry to be leaving you.
"Rather sorry." Is that all?
And I suppose if I asked you to give me a kiss, you'd say you would rather not.
I'll kiss you, and welcome, Bessie.
You're such a strange, solitary little thing.
Here's a keepsake, Jane. It'll help you remember me.
Come on, hurry up.
Be a good girl. And I hope you'll be happy.
Thank you, Bessie. Goodbye.
Goodbye, Jane.
Goodbye, Mrs. Reed! I hate you and everything about you!
I'll never come and see you again! I'll never call you "aunt" as long as I live!
And if anyone asks me how you treated me...
I'll say you are bad and hardhearted and mean.
And the very sight of you makes me sick!
At school I shall have drawing lessons and French lessons...
and history and music lessons.
And there'll be hundreds of other girls to play with.
And, uh, what's the name of this school of yours?
- It's called Lowood. - Lowood?
Lowood.
Here you are. She's been asleep for hours.
Right away, Bill.
<i>I was to awaken in the morning to find my dreams of Lowood shattered.</i>
<i>In their place was to stand a school that was more like a prison,</i>
<i>Dominated by the cold, implacable cruelty of Mr. Brocklehurst.</i>
Pupils.
Observe this child.
She is yet young. She possesses the ordinary form of girlhood.
No single deformity points her out as a marked character.
Who would believe that the evil one had already found in her a servant...
and an agent?
Yet such, I grieve to tell you, is the case.
Therefore, you must be on your guard against her.
Shun her example, avoid her company, exclude her from your sports...
and shut her out from your converse.
Teachers! You must watch her.
Weigh well her words and scrutinize her actions.
Punish her body to save her soul.
For it is my duty to warn you, and my tongue falters as I tell it...
that this girl, this child, the native of a Christian land...
no better than many a little heathen that says its prayers...
to Brahma and kneels before Juggernaut.
This girl is a liar!
Let her remain on that stool. Let no one speak to her for the rest of the day.
I brought you this from supper.
Didn't you hear what he said?
He said you mustn't have anything to do with me.
Go on, take it.
I'm not bad. I promise I'm not.
- But I hate him. I hate him! - It's wrong to hate people.
I can't help it.
I thought school would be a place where people would love me.
I want people to love me and believe in me and be kind to me.
I'd let my arm be broken if it would make anyone love me.
Or let a horse kick me. Or be tossed by a bull.
- Don't say such things. - But I would. I would!
Eat your bread, Jane.
O merciful Providence, who, of thy generous plenty...
doth give us the abundant fruits of the field for our sustenance...
grant us that though we are duly and properly grateful...
for this our earthly food, yet our hearts may be more lastingly fixed...
upon thy heavenly manner. Amen.
Helen, where does that road go?
I told you before. To Bradford.
But after Bradford?
Derby, I suppose. And Nottingham and then London.
From London to Dover and across the sea to France...
and then over the mountains and down to Italy...
and to Florence and Rome and Madrid...
Madrid isn't in Italy, Jane.
That road goes there all the same.
And we'll drive along it one day when we're grown up, Helen...
in a lovely coach and four.
And I'll have beautiful curly hair just like yours.
And I'll have read all the books in the world...
and I'll play the piano and talk French almost as well as you do.
- Dreaming again, Jane? - Oh, Dr. Rivers.
Somebody's gonna be late for inspection.
Not this time. I'll beat you there.
- Aah. - Aah.
- Aah. - Aah.
Aah.
That cough doesn't seem any better, Helen.
We'll have to take care of it.
- Aah. - Aah.
- Aah. - Aah.
Thank you.
You keep your schoolroom uncommonly cold, Mr. Brocklehurst.
A matter of principle, Dr. Rivers.
Our aim is not to pamper the body, but to strengthen the soul.
I should hardly have thought that a bad cough was any aid to salvation.
Then, I'm not a theologian. Good day, sir.
If I may venture an opinion...
When I want your opinion, madam, I shall call for it.
Johnson, you poke your chin most unpleasantly. Draw it in.
Edwards, I insist on your holding your head up.
I will not have you stand before me in that attitude.
Miss Scatcherd! Fetch me the scissors immediately.
What, may I ask, is the meaning of this?
Why, in defiance of every precept and principle of this establishment...
is this young person permitted to wear her hair in curls?
Her hair curls naturally.
Miss Scatcherd, how often must I tell you...
we are not here to conform to nature?
I want these girls to be children of grace.
Please, please, sir, don't do that.
You can cut mine as much as you wish, but...
Silence!
So this is the spirit that prevails at Lowood.
First vanity, and now insurrection.
It shall be rooted out.
Dr. Rivers.
I brought this oil for Helen. I want her chest rubbed with it.
Helen, doctor?
Yes, I'm concerned about her lungs. I've spoken to Mr. Bro...
- What are they doing out in the rain? - It was Mr. Brocklehurst's order.
Bring them in.
- What shall I say to Mr. Brocklehurst? - You will refer Mr. Brocklehurst to me.
With your leave, Dr. Rivers, I shall offer up one more prayer.
Almighty God, look down upon this miserable sinner...
and grant that the sense of her weakness...
may give strength to her faith and seriousness to her repentance.
Amen.
The ways of Providence are inscrutable, Dr. Rivers.
Was it Providence that sent that poor girl in the rain?
Was it Providence that ordered her to her death?
Yes, to her death, Mr. Brocklehurst.
Helen.
Helen.
Oh, I'm so glad. I heard Dr. Rivers say...
- I was afraid. - I'm not afraid, Jane.
Helen.
Helen.
You must be cold. Lie down and cover yourself up.
Don't cry, Jane. I don't want you to cry.
- Are you warm now? - Yes.
Good night, Jane.
Good night, Helen.
I... I do wish they hadn't cut your hair.
Helen.
Are you awake?
It's morning.
Helen!
Jane. Come, Jane.
No, I want to stay here. I want to be with Helen.
Helen isn't here. Helen's with God.
Jane, remember what you say in your prayers every day?
"Thy will be done."
Do you think you're doing God's will by giving way to despair?
God wants children to be brave and strong.
Won't you do what God wants?
- I'll try. - That's right.
Don't forget, the harder you try, the more God will help you.
Now let me take you back.
No, I can't go back. I'll never go back. I'll run away!
Jane, you know what duty is, don't you?
Duty is what you have to do even when you don't want to do it.
I may not want to go out into a snowstorm to visit a sick child...
but I know I have to go because it's my duty.
- Now, what is your duty, Jane? - I don't know.
Yes, you do, Jane. In your heart, you know perfectly well.
Your duty is to prepare yourself to do God's work in the world. Isn't that true?
And who can do God's work? An ignorant woman or an educated one?
Yes, you know the answer to that.
And where can you get an education, Jane?
- Where? - At school.
Precisely. So you know you have to go back to school...
even though you may hate the very thought of it. Isn't that true?
I suppose it is true.
Good, Jane. Very good.
True, gentlemen, we had some difficulties in the beginning.
A very stiff-necked and evil child.
But Eyre has been with us 10 years.
In those 10 years, it has been granted me to plant her feet on the path of salvation.
- I suppose we ought to see her. - I intended that you should.
Let Eyre be brought in.
I don't need to remind you of the advantages...
of appointing one of our own pupils as teacher.
An outsider will have to be paid twice as much.
Eyre, this is a solemn moment.
Little did I imagine that the unregenerate child I received into this institution...
would grow in 10 short years to become a teacher.
Yes, a teacher.
That is the honor which the trustees, at my recommendation...
have now bestowed upon you.
Your wages will be 20 guineas per annum...
from which only 10 will be withheld for lodging, spiritual instruction, laundry.
Your duties will begin on the first day of the new term.
I need detain you no longer, gentlemen.
- Good day, gentlemen, good day. - Here is the post, sir.
That is all, Eyre.
I cannot accept your offer, sir.
- And why not, pray? - I do not wish to stay at Lowood.
But this is unheard of.
- The ingratitude. - What have I to be grateful for?
- Ten years of harshness and... - Silence!
Stiff-necked as ever. I see that I've been sadly deceived in you.
And where, may I ask, do you intend to go?
- Out into the world, sir. - Out into the world.
You know how the world treats paupers without friends or connections?
I intend to find a position as a governess.
- How, may I ask? - I've advertised in a newspaper.
Oh, and doubtless you've been overwhelmed with demands for your services.
- No, sir. - And you never will be.
You have no talents, your disposition is dark and rebellious...
your appearance insignificant.
It's folly to dream of such a position.
Eyre, you heard me.
I'm willing to overlook your ungracious outburst, but I warn you:
If you persist in your folly, this haven will never again be open to you.
I am leaving Lowood, sir.
Here you are, miss. Right-o.
Jane, it's not every young woman that can face the world single-handed.
But you know what right is. You'll stick to it through thick and thin.
Twenty pounds is my limit.
No, no, no. Make it guineas and they're yours, lad.
Excuse me. Could you tell me if there's anyone here...
from Mrs. Fairfax at Thornfield Hall?
Not that I've heard, ma'am. Take seat in coffee room and I'll inquire.
- Who's the young lady? - Couldn't say. Just come in by coach.
Give her my compliments and ask her to join me in a glass of Madeira.
Yes, sir.
Gentleman over there presents his compliments...
asks if you'd take a glass of summat with him.
Oh, no, thank you. I never take wine.
Is your name Eyre?
Yes, I'm Miss Eyre. Are you from Thornfield?
- You're not the new governess? - Yes, I am.
- Heh, is this all your luggage? - Yes.
- I'll tell Mrs. Fairfax you're here. - Thank you.
How do you do, my dear?
I'm afraid you've had a tedious journey. I'm Mrs. Fairfax.
Why, your hand is like ice. Come, I'll take you straight to your room.
We've a nice, cozy fire burning there for you...
and Leah's taken the chill off the sheet with the warming pan.
You know, dear, I'm so glad you've come.
Living here with no company but the servants...
it's not too cheerful, I can tell you.
I do declare, not a living creature but the butcher and the postman...
has come to this house since the hard weather set in.
Shall I have the pleasure of seeing Miss Fairfax tonight?
Miss Fairfax? Oh, you mean Miss Adele.
- Isn't she your daughter? - Oh, gracious, no. Adele is French.
I have no family. No family at all.
That's Mr. Edward's room.
He's abroad, of course, but I always keep it ready for him.
His visits are always so unexpected and sudden.
A wanderer on the face of the earth, that's what Mr. Edward is, I'm afraid.
Mr. Edward? Who is Mr. Edward?
Why, the owner of Thornfield, of course.
- Oh, I thought this was your house. - Mine? Bless your soul, child.
I'm only the housekeeper.
Thornfield belongs to Mr. Edward Rochester, and little Adele is his ward.
And here is your room, my dear. It's quite small...
but I thought you'd like it better than one of the large front chambers.
Oh, it's very beautiful.
I can't understand why a gentleman with a house like this so seldom comes to it.
It is strange. But you'll find, Miss Eyre...
that in many ways, Mr. Edward is a strange man.
- Good night, my dear. - Good night.
<i>Bonjour, mademoiselle.</i>
Mama had a dress like that, mademoiselle.
Only she could dance much more beautifully. I can dance too.
- Do you wish to see? - Now? At this very moment?
Now you speak like Monsieur Rochester. For him it is never the right moment.
Your name's Adele, isn't it?
Do you know what I was thinking, Adele?
I was just thinking that never in my life have I been awakened so happily.
- You like that, mademoiselle? - Very much, Adele.
A great many gentlemen and ladies came to see Mama...
and I used to dance before them, or sit on their knees and sing to them.
I liked it.
- And where was that? - In Paris. We live always in Paris.
But then when Mama had to go to the Holy Virgin...
Monsieur Rochester came and took me across the sea...
in a great ship with a chimney that smoked, and I was sick.
Five, six and three?
- Do you like Monsieur Rochester? - I've not met him yet.
This is his chair.
He sits here and stares into the fire and frowns like this:
- Is he as bad as that? - Twice as bad.
- I cannot make how bad he is. - But I'm sure he's very kind to you.
Oh, sometimes he brings me beautiful presents.
But when he's angry, that's terrible.
And may the Holy Virgin give me grace.
And God bless Monsieur Rochester and make him polite to mademoiselle...
so she will stay with me forever and ever. Amen.
- Can I do anything? - You can stand out of the way.
- I'm sorry I frightened your horse. - Apologies won't mend my ankle.
Down, Pilot!
Well, what are you waiting for?
I can't leave until I see you're fit to ride.
Hmm, you have a will of your own.
- Where are you from? - From Mr. Rochester's house, just below.
- Do you know Mr. Rochester? - No, I've never seen him.
- You're not a servant at the hall. - I'm the new governess.
Oh.
You're the new governess.
Now, just hand me my whip.
Thank you. Now kindly get out of the way.
Quick, dear. Off with your things. He's been asking to see the governess.
- Who? - Why, Mr. Rochester, of course.
Rode in on us suddenly without any warning, and in such a vile humor.
Seems he had an accident. I don't know what to do.
He won't let me send for the doctor. Oh, my goodness, your bonnet.
Here is Miss Eyre, sir.
Well, Miss Eyre, have you no tongue?
- I was waiting until I was spoken to. - Very proper.
Next time you see a man on a horse, don't run into the road till he's passed.
It was not deliberate.
It may not have been deliberate, it was nonetheless painful.
Sit down, Miss Eyre.
- Where do you come from? - From Lowood Institution, sir.
Lowood? What's that?
It's a charity school. I was there 10 years.
Ten years. You must be tenacious of life.
No wonder you have rather the look of another world.
I marveled where you got that sort of face.
When you came on me in the mist, I was thinking of fairy tales.
Half a mind to demand whether you'd bewitched my horse.
Indeed, I'm not sure yet.
- Who are your parents? - I have none, sir.
- And your home? - I have no home, sir.
Who recommended you here?
I advertised and Mrs. Fairfax answered the advertisement.
Heh, and you came posthaste to be here in time to throw me off my horse.
Hmm. What did you learn at Lowood? Do you play the piano?
A little.
Of course, it is the established answer.
Go into the drawing room.
I mean, if you please.
Excuse my tone of command. I'm used to saying, "Do this," and it is done.
I cannot alter my customary habits for one new inmate.
Take a candle with you, leave the door open.
Sit down at the piano and play a tune.
Enough!
You play a little, I see. Like any other English schoolgirl.
Perhaps rather better than some.
But not well.
Good night, Miss Eyre.
Good night.
<i>What sort of man was this master of Thornfield...</i>
<i>so proud, sardonic and harsh?</i>
<i>Instinctively I felt that his malignant mood had its source in some cruel cross of fate.</i>
<i>I was to learn that this was indeed true,</i>
<i>and that beneath the harsh mask he assumed</i>
<i>lay a tortured soul, fine, gentle and kindly.</i>
Grace, what are you thinking about?
I told you time and again I could hear you all over the house.
Too much noise, Grace.
I've spoken to you before.
Did I disturb you, my dear? I'm so sorry. I had to say something to Grace Poole.
She's a person we have to do the sewing.
Not altogether unobjectionable, but she does her work.
How did you get on with Mr. Rochester, my dear?
Is he always so changeful and abrupt?
Well, he has his little peculiarities of temper, of course...
but then, allowances should be made.
Why for him more than for anyone else?
Partly because that's his nature.
And partly, too, because he has painful thoughts.
- What about? - Family troubles.
I think that's why he so seldom comes to Thornfield.
It has unpleasant associations for him.
Good night, my dear.
Good night, Mrs. Fairfax.
Monsieur Rochester is very difficult, but he brings the most beautiful presents.
Look, mademoiselle. Mademoiselle.
You see, they suit me perfectly.
A ballet dress, just like Mama used to wear.
Isn't it beautiful, mademoiselle?
- Beautiful, Adele. - I shall wear it when I dance. Always, heh.
Miss Eyre.
That's enough, I daresay.
Miss Eyre.
I'm not fond of the prattle of children.
As you see, I'm a crusty old bachelor...
and I have no pleasant associations connected with their lisp.
In this house, the only alternative is the prattle of a simple-minded old lady...
which is nearly as bad.
Today I feel disposed to be gregarious...
and communicative and I believe you could amuse me.
You puzzled me a great deal that first evening in the library, Miss Eyre.
I'd almost forgotten you since...
but now I'm resolved to be at ease, to do only what pleases me.
It would please me now to draw you out, to learn more of you.
Sit down, Miss Eyre.
No, not further back. Down just here, where I placed it.
Uh, forward a little. Still too far back.
I can't see you without disturbing my position in this comfortable chair...
which I have no mind to do.
You examine me, Miss Eyre.
- Do you find me handsome? - No, sir.
Indeed.
I beg your pardon, I was too plain. My answer was a mistake.
Just so, and you shall be answerable for it. Now, then, explain.
Does my forehead not please you?
What do you tell from my head? Am I a fool?
No, sir, far from it.
Would you say it is the head of a kindly man?
- Hardly that, sir. - Very well, madam.
I am not a kindly man.
Though I did once have a sort of tenderness of heart.
- You doubt that? - No, sir.
Fortune's knocked me about, kneaded me with her knuckles...
till now I flatter myself I am as hard and tough as an India-rubber ball...
with perhaps one small sensitive point in the middle of the lump.
- Does that leave hope for me? - Hope of what, sir?
My retransformation from India rubber back to flesh.
You look very puzzled, young lady.
And a puzzled air becomes you.
Besides, it keeps those searching eyes of yours away from my face.
You are silent, Miss Eyre. Stubborn?
No, annoyed, and quite rightly so.
I put my request in an absurd way.
The fact is, once and for all, I do not wish to treat you as an inferior.
But I've battled through a varied experience with men of many nations...
roamed over half the globe, while you've spent your whole life...
with one set of people in one house.
Don't you agree that gives me a right to be masterful and abrupt?
Do as you please, sir.
You pay me 30 pounds a year for receiving your orders.
Thirty pounds? I'd quite forgotten that, heh.
Well, heh, on that mercenary ground, won't you agree to let me hector you a little?
No, sir, not on that ground, but on the ground...
that you did forget it and inquired of my feelings as an equal.
Good. Well, then. You'll let me dispense of the conventional forms...
without thinking me insolent?
I should never mistake informality for insolence.
One I rather like. The other, no freeborn person would submit to even for a salary.
Humbug. Most freeborn people submit to anything for a salary.
- Where are you going? - It's time for Adele's lesson.
Heh, no, young lady. It's not for Adele that you're going.
It's because you're afraid of me. You wish to escape me.
In my presence, you are hesitant to smile gaily...
or speak too freely.
- Admit that you're afraid. - I'm bewildered, sir.
But I'm certainly not afraid.
Don't I look beautiful, monsieur?
This is how Mama used to do it, is it not?
Precisely.
That's how she charmed my English gold out of my breeches pocket.
- And I shall dance for you? - You will not.
- Go straight upstairs to the nursery. - But, monsieur...
At once.
Miss Eyre.
I'm not finished talking to you.
Why are you looking at me like that?
I was thinking, whatever your past misfortune...
you have no right to revenge yourself on a child.
You're quite right, of course.
I was thinking only of myself, my own memories and feelings.
The fact is, nature meant me to be, on the whole, a good man.
One of the better kind. But circumstance decreed otherwise, heh.
I was as green as you once. Uh, grass green.
Now my spring is gone, leaving me what?
This little artificial French flower.
You may go, Miss Eyre.
Miss Eyre.
- Hope you'll be happy here at Thornfield. - I hope so, sir. I think so.
I'm glad.
Who's there?
Mr. Rochester!
That's done it.
I think someone must've tried to kill you. I heard footsteps along the gallery.
Shall I call Mrs. Fairfax?
What the deuce do you want to call her for?
Let her sleep. Come and sit down.
I'm going to leave you here.
Be still as a mouse.
When you came out of your room, did you see anything?
Only a candlestick on the floor. But I... I heard a door shut.
- Anything else? - Yes. Kind of a laugh.
A kind of a laugh. Have you heard it before?
There's a strange woman here called Grace Poole that I...
Aah, just so.
Grace Poole.
You've guessed it. Well, I see what's to be done.
Meanwhile, say nothing about this to anyone.
Adele. We forgot the child.
I had an awful fear.
- You see what she has? - Poor little Adele.
Trying to console herself for my unkindness to her.
The child has dancing in her blood...
and coquetry in the very marrow of her bones.
I once had the misfortune to be in love with this...
and to be jealous of that.
Love's a strange thing, Miss Eyre.
You can know that a person's worthless, without heart or mind or scruple...
and yet suffer to the point of torture when she betrays you.
At least I had the pleasure of putting a pistol bullet through my rival's lungs.
- And the little doll in the dancing skirt? - We tell Adele she died.
The truth isn't quite so touching.
I gave her some money and turned her out...
whereupon she decamped with an Italian painter...
leaving me with what she said was my daughter.
Let me light you to your room.
Well, Miss Eyre...
now that you know what your pupil is...
the offspring of a French dancing girl...
I suppose you'll be coming to tell me to look out for a new governess.
Adele has had so little love. I shall try to make up for it.
Are you always drawn to the loveless and unfriended?
When it's deserved.
Would you say that my life deserved saving?
I should be distressed if harm came to you, sir.
But you did save my life tonight, and I should like to thank you for it.
At least shake hands.
I knew you'd do me good in some way, sometime.
- Good night, Jane. - Good night, sir.
Oh, Miss Eyre, isn't it terrible? We might all have been burnt in our beds.
Where did Mr. Rochester go?
Well, he said something about a party at Millcote.
Goodness knows how long he'll be away.
One can never tell with Mr. Rochester. It may be a day or a year or a month.
- Mrs. Fairfax? - Yes, my dear?
Did Mr. Rochester tell you how the fire started?
Why, of course.
He was reading in bed and fell asleep with the candle lit.
And the curtains took fire. Why do you ask?
I wondered if the fire had anything to do with Mr. Rochester's leaving.
What possible connection could there be?
He said this morning that he was restless.
The house with only us here was unbearably oppressive for him.
What art thou doing here?
No one is allowed up here. Understand? No one.
Get thee down.
<i>Had the mystery in the tower driven him madly away,</i>
<i>just as we seemed so close together?</i>
<i>...Winter turned to spring and no news came,</i>
<i>but I found a measure of escape in the happiness of Adele.</i>
Look, mademoiselle.
Now, the moment the carriages stop...
be ready to take the gentlemen's cloaks.
- Yes, madam. - I'm glad so you're back.
Mr. Rochester is so difficult.
Leah, you must be with me to take the ladies to their rooms.
Yes, madam.
Imagine not telling me how many guests he's bringing.
Just said, "Get all the best bedrooms ready and more servants from the inn."
They're coming, ma'am.
One, two, three. Oh, dear, 15 at least. Far more than I prepared for.
- Who's that riding with Mr. Rochester? - Why, that's Blanche Ingram, my dear.
Haven't you heard about Miss Ingram and Mr. Rochester?
She's quite an old flame of his.
It wouldn't surprise me if it came to an engagement one of these days.
Such a beautiful girl, isn't she?
Where's Miss Ingram's bath?
Coming as quickly as we can.
Adele, why aren't you in the nursery?
Mademoiselle, let me look.
No, dear, you're in the way.
Didn't I tell you that Blanche had set her cap at him?
Well, he is very romantic, and enormously rich.
Oh, Miss Eyre, Mr. Rochester wishes you...
to bring Adele to the drawing room after dinner.
Oh, please send Adele by herself.
He only asked me out of politeness.
That's what I thought, and I told him you weren't used to company.
"Nonsense," he said. "if she objects, I'll come and fetch her myself."
Of course, you must wear your very best, my dear.
I think the black.
Then I got two more birds with my spare gun, heh.
Well, perhaps we'd better leave the gentlemen to their port.
They're coming, mademoiselle.
- What's your name? - Adele.
Now, Blanche, stop teasing Mr. Rochester. Come along, my angel.
Splendid match, Sir George. Six or 7000 a year at least.
- What a striking couple. - Very fortunate, isn't it?
Fine shoulders, eh, Ned?
Mr. Rochester, may I sing now?
I think we've had enough music.
- I thought you weren't fond of children. - Nor am I. Run along.
What induced you to take charge of a poppet? Where'd you pick her up?
I did not pick her up. She was left on my hands.
Well, I suppose you have a governess for her.
I saw a person with her just now. Is she gone?
Oh, no, there she is, still hiding in the corner.
You should hear Mama on the subject of governesses.
Governesses? Don't speak to me of governesses, heh.
The martyrdom I've endured with those creatures.
The clever ones are detestable, and the others are grotesque.
- How do you do? - Very well, sir.
Why did you not come speak to me in the drawing room?
I did not wish to disturb you, as you seemed engaged.
- What have you been doing? - Teaching Adele, as usual.
Yes, and getting a good deal paler than you were. What's the matter?
Nothing.
Take cold the night of the fire?
No, sir.
Go back to the drawing room. You're leaving too early.
I'm a little tired, sir.
Yes, and a little depressed. What about?
I'm not depressed, sir.
But I tell you, you are.
So much depressed that a few words more and there'll be tears in your eyes.
Indeed, they're there now, shining and swimming.
What devil's that?
- I wish to see Mr. Rochester. - What name shall I say, sir?
Tell him Mr. Mason. Mr. Mason of Spanish Town, Jamaica.
Very good, sir.
Mason of Spanish Town.
I wish I were on a quiet island with only you.
Trouble and danger and hideous recollection far away.
Can I help you, sir?
If help is needed, I'll seek it at your hands. Promise you that.
Jane, if all the people in that room came and spat on me...
what would you do?
I'd turn them out of the room if I could.
If I were to go to them and they only looked coldly at me...
and dropped off and left me, one by one...
what then?
Would you go with them?
I would stay with you, sir.
- To comfort me? - Yes, sir.
To comfort you as well as I could.
Edward.
I shall not be so hypocritical as to say you are welcome in this house.
Follow me, Mason.
- What is it? What's happened? - The noise came from down there.
- Where the devil's Edward? - Here he is.
Edward! Edward, you haven't been hurt, have you?
Put that pistol away, colonel. Artillery's no good for nightmares.
- Nightmares? - That's all it was.
One of the maids had a bad dream, woke up screaming.
Oh.
The moral of that is don't eat toasted cheese for supper.
Now, ladies, you all go to your rooms. Lady Ingram, you set the good example.
I declare, I'm quite disappointed.
I was so looking forward to seeing Uncle Percy shoot a robber.
Now, Blanche, less of your levity.
Good night, Edward.
Sweet dreams, my courageous Blanche.
- Jane, are you awake? - Yes, sir.
Come out, then, quietly.
Come this way and make no noise.
You don't turn sick at the sight of blood, do you?
- I've never been tried. - Give me your hand.
It won't do to risk a fainting fit. Warm and steady.
Jane, what you see may shock and frighten and confuse you.
I beg you not to seek an explanation. Don't try to understand.
Whatever the appearance, you must trust me.
Jane, I'm going to leave you in this room with this gentleman...
while I fetch a surgeon.
You will sponge the blood as I do now.
If he comes to, do not speak to him on any account. Do you understand me?
Whatever happens, do not move from here.
Whatever happens, do not open a door. Either door.
Doctor, be on the alert.
I give you half an hour for dressing the wound, getting the patient downstairs.
- Huh, I'm done for, I fear. - Nonsense.
- You've lost a little blood, that's all. - She sank her teeth into me like a tigress.
- She said she'd drain my heart's... - Be silent, Mason. Forget it!
- Jane. - Yes, sir?
Go and get some things on.
Go down the back stairs, unbolt the side passage door.
You'll find a carriage waiting.
See that the driver's ready.
I shall be down in a moment.
Mason.
I told you not to come up here!
- I thought I could've done some good. - You thought, you thought!
Come, doctor, hurry. We must have him off.
I've tried so long to avoid exposure.
I shall make very certain it doesn't come now.
Take care of him, doctor.
Don't let him leave your house until he's quite well.
- Edward. - Well, what is it?
Let her be taken care of. Let her be treated as tenderly as may be.
I do my best, and have done it and will do it.
Jane, come here a few minutes where there's some freshness.
That house is a dungeon, a sepulcher.
Here, everything is fresh, real...
and pure.
You've passed a strange night, Jane. You're a little pale.
Mr. Rochester, will Grace Poole live here still?
Yes, Grace Poole will stay.
- After last night? - Don't ask for explanations.
Believe me when I tell you there are reasons for it. Good reasons.
You're my little friend, Jane, aren't you?
I like to serve you, sir, in everything that's right.
If I asked you to do something you thought was wrong, what then?
My little friend would turn to me, very quiet and pale, and say:
"Oh, no, sir, that's impossible."
Am I right?
Jane, I want you to use your fancy.
Suppose yourself a boy...
a thoughtless, impetuous boy indulged from childhood upwards.
Imagine yourself in some remote foreign land.
Conceive that you there commit a capital error.
One that cuts you off from the possibility of all human joys.
In your despair, you wander about vainly...
seeking contentment in empty pleasure.
Then suddenly...
fate offers you the chance of regeneration...
and true happiness.
Are you justified in overleaping the obstacles of mere custom?
Tell me, Jane, are you justified?
How can I answer, sir?
Every conscience must come to its own decision.
But it can't come to a decision.
If you're afraid that you may bring shame to what you most cherish...
or destroy what you most desire to protect.
Oh, Jane, don't you curse me for plaguing you like this?
- Curse you? No, sir. - Give me your assurance on that.
Cold fingers. They were warmer last night.
Jane, will you watch with me again?
Whenever I can be useful.
For instance, the night before I'm married.
Will you sit with me then?
- Are you going to be married, sir? - Sometime. Why not?
What makes you think he's in the stable?
You think no one will have me. You're wrong.
You don't know these young ladies of fashion.
They may not admire my person, but I assure you, they dote on my purse.
- Blanche. - Good morning, Edward.
By rights, I should scold you for running off like this.
- Mm-hm. - A correct host entertains his guests.
My dear Blanche, when will you learn? I never was correct, nor ever shall be.
Very pretty, partner.
- Splendid. - Thank you.
Edward, I'm so glad you've made up your mind...
to come to London with us tomorrow.
- Have I? I didn't know. - Of course, how very appropriate.
- What now, Edward? - Put the red ball in the top pocket.
Edward, does that person want you?
I'm sorry, sir, I did not know you were occupied.
Very good, Miss Eyre. I'm sure the ladies will excuse me.
Governesses, Mama.
I'm sorry, but I understood you were leaving in the morning...
and I wished to ask you for a reference.
Reference? What the deuce do you want a reference for? Heh.
- To get a new place, sir. - Hmm.
You as good as told me that you were going to be married.
Yes, what then?
In which case, Adele ought to go to school.
To get her out of my bride's way...
who otherwise might walk over her rather too emphatically? Heh.
Some sense in your suggestion, Jane.
Adele, as you say, must go to school. And you must go to the devil, is that it?
I hope not, sir. Unless it's the devil who answers my advertisement.
Advertisement? You mean you've been advertising?
- Not yet, sir, but I shall. - You'll do nothing of the kind.
Time comes for you to get a new situation, I'll get one for you.
Do you hear?
Very well, sir. Goodbye, Mr. Rochester.
Goodbye, Miss Eyre.
Jane.
Is that all?
Seems stingy to my notion. Dry and unfriendly.
Won't you do more than just say goodbye?
Well, I'll...
I'll shake hands, sir.
Oh, you'll shake hands?
Goodbye, Jane.
It is a beautiful place, your Thornfield.
Well, as a dungeon, it serves its purpose.
- Dungeon? Why, it's a paradise. - Huh.
Though, of course, if one lived here...
one would have to have a house in London, wouldn't one?
Unquestionably. A little apartment in Paris...
- ...perhaps a villa on the Mediterranean. - How delightful that would be.
But Thornfield would always be there as a retreat from the world.
A green haven of peace and love.
Love? Who's talking of love? All a fellow needs is a bit of distraction.
A houseful of beautiful women to keep him from brooding on his woes.
Peering too closely into mysteries of his heart, heh.
- That is, if he has a heart. - Hmm.
And sometimes I wonder, Edward, if you really have one.
Have I ever done anything to make you believe I have?
- If so, it was unintentional. - Are you never serious?
Never more than at this moment, except when I'm eating dinner.
You can be revoltingly coarse at times.
- Can I ever be anything else? - Can you?
Would I have come if you couldn't?
Heh, that's a very nice point. Would you or would you not?
Let's begin by considering the significant facts of the case first.
Mr. Rochester is revoltingly coarse and as ugly as sin.
- Edward! - Allow me, my dear.
I repeat, as ugly as sin.
Secondly, he flirts, but is careful never to talk about love or marriage.
However... This is the third point. ...Lady Ingram is impoverished...
whereas the revolting Mr. Rochester has an assured income of 8000 a year.
Now, in view of all this, what is the attitude...
that Miss Blanche may be expected to take?
From my experience, I'd surmise that she'd ignore the coarseness, et cetera...
- ...till Mr. R is hooked. - How dare you...
- No, no. No horseplay. - I've never been so insulted in my life.
Insulted? I merely paid the compliment of being completely honest.
Mr. Rochester, you are a boor and a cur.
I thought you'd gone.
I changed my mind. Or rather, the Ingram family changed theirs.
Why are you crying?
I was thinking about having to leave Thornfield.
You've become quite attached to that foolish little Adele, haven't you?
- To that simple old Fairfax. - Yes.
- You'd be sorry to part with them? - Yes, sir.
It's always the way in this life.
No sooner have you got settled in a pleasant place, you're to move on.
I told you, I shall be ready when the order comes.
It's come now.
Then it's settled?
All settled. Even about your future situation.
You've found a place for me?
Yes, Jane, I have. In the west of Ireland.
You'll like Ireland, I think. They're such warm-hearted people there.
- It's a long way off, sir. - From what, Jane?
From England and from Thornfield.
Well...
And from you, sir.
Yes, Jane, it's a long way.
When you get there, I shall probably never see you again.
We've been good friends, Jane, haven't we?
- Yes, sir. - Even good friends may be forced to part.
Let's make the most of what time has left us.
Let us sit here in peace.
Even though we should be destined never to sit here again.
Sometimes I have a queer feeling with regard to you, Jane.
Especially when you are near me, as now.
It's as if I had a string somewhere under my left rib.
Tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated...
in a corresponding corner of your little frame.
And if we should have to be parted...
that cord of communion would be snapped...
and I have the nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.
As for you, you'd forget me.
That I never will, sir. You know that.
I see the necessity of going, but it's like looking on the necessity of death.
Where do you see that necessity?
- In your bride. - What bride? I have no bride.
- But you will have. - Yes, I will. I will.
Do you think I could stay here to become nothing to you?
Do you think because I'm poor and obscure and plain...
that I'm soulless and heartless?
I have as much soul as you, and fully as much heart.
And if God had gifted me with wealth and beauty...
I should've made it as hard for you to leave me as...
As it is now for me to leave you.
There, I've spoken my heart, now let me go.
Jane.
Jane, you strange, almost unearthly thing.
- You, that I love as my own flesh. - Don't mock me.
I have no love for Blanche. It's you I want. Answer me, Jane, quickly.
Say, "Edward, I'll marry you." Say it, Jane. Say it.
- I want to read your face. - Read quickly.
Say, "Edward, I'll marry you."
Edward, I'll marry you.
God pardon me.
<i>All my doubts, and all the grim shadows that hung over Thornfield</i>
<i>seemed to vanish... shattered like the riven chestnut-tree.</i>
<i>I loved and I was loved.</i>
<i>Every sun-lit hour I looked forward to love's fulfillment.</i>
Jane, what do you think you're doing?
Teaching Adele, as usual.
As usual as a new heaven and a new Earth...
and you go on teaching Adele as usual.
What is wrong with that?
Because I'm going to marry mademoiselle and take mademoiselle to the moon...
and find a cave and mademoiselle will live with us there forever. You approve?
Monsieur, there's no one I'd rather you marry. Not even Mrs. Fairfax.
And some of that. And a length of the scarlet.
And a length of the scarlet, and some of the gold silk.
Here you are, milady, half a guinea each way. That's 55 and a tenner.
Tell your fortune, milord?
- Go away! - Let me read the pretty lady's future.
The pretty lady's going to marry me. We shall make our future ourselves.
I require and charge ye both...
as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment...
when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed...
that if either of you know any impediment...
why you may not lawfully be joined in matrimony...
ye do now confess it.
For be ye well assured that if any persons are joined together otherwise...
then as the word of God doth allow, then are they not joined by God...
nor is their matrimony lawful.
Edward Rochester, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?
One moment, please. I declare the existence of an impediment.
- Proceed with the ceremony. - You cannot proceed.
Mr. Rochester has a wife now living.
- Who are you? - My name's Briggs. I'm an attorney.
Mr. Mason, on the 20th of October, 1824...
Edward Rochester of Thornfield Hall was married to Bertha Mason...
at St. Mary's Church, Spanish Town, Jamaica.
The record of the marriage will be found in the register of that church.
It's true, it's true! I swear it.
She's living at Thornfield. I've seen her there myself.
I'm her brother.
Parson, close your book. There'll be no wedding today.
Instead, I invite you all to my house to meet Grace Poole's patient...
my wife.
To the right about, every one of you!
Away with your congratulations. They are 15 years too late.
That, gentlemen, is my wife.
Mad, and the offspring of a mad family...
to whom the church and law bind me forever, without hope of divorce.
And this is what I wish to have.
This young girl who stands so grave and quiet at the mouth of hell.
Look at the difference and then judge me.
Jane.
Jane, I did not even know her.
I was married at 19 in Spanish Town to a bride already courted for me.
But I married her, gross, groveling, mole-eyed blockhead that I was.
Jane, hear me.
I suffered all the agonies of a man bound to a wife...
at once intemperate and unchaste.
I watched her excesses drive her at last into madness.
Then I brought her back to England, to Thornfield.
Jane, I did everything that God and humanity demanded.
Then I fled from this place.
My fixed desire was to find a woman I could love.
A contrast to the Fury I left here. And what did I find?
A French dancing girl, a Viennese milliner...
a Neapolitan countess with a taste for jewelry.
Back to England I rode again, in sight of Thornfield.
Someone was walking there in the moonlight.
A strange little elfin-like creature.
It frightened my horse and then came up and gravely offered me help.
I was to be aided, and by that hand. And aided I was.
And then later that evening... Do you remember, Jane?
- Say you remember. - I remember.
...you came into that room. How shy you were.
And yet how readily and roundly you answered my questions.
And then you smiled at me.
That moment, I knew I'd found you.
- Jane, can you not forgive me? - I do forgive you.
And you still love me?
I do love you, with all my heart. I can say it now, since it's for the last time.
Do you mean to go one way in the world and let me go another?
Stay with me, Jane. We'd be hurting nobody.
We should be hurting ourselves.
Would it be so wicked to love me? Would it?
I could crush you between my hands...
but your spirit would still be free.
Jane, you are going?
I am going, sir.
You will not be my comforter? My rescuer?
My deep love? My frantic prayer?
Are they nothing to you?
God bless you, my dear master. God keep you from harm and wrong.
Jane.
Jane. Jane.
<i>Going nowhere, I had nowhere to go.</i>
<i>Without references, I could not find employment.</i>
<i>I knew hunger and unsheltered nights.</i>
<i>At last old memories, rather than my will, drew me back to Gateshead Hall...</i>
<i>to Bessie, who had once been kind to me.</i>
- Bessie. - Yes, I'm Bessie.
If you're looking for work, we haven't got no work for no one nowadays.
You look poorly, lass. If you're cold, you're welcome to sit by the fire.
Sit down, lass.
Uh, where'd you get that brooch?
You gave it to me, Bessie.
Jane. Jane Eyre.
A grown young lady, and you were such a tiny thing...
no higher than a broomstick. Oh, Miss Jane.
That's your poor aunt.
Don't tell Aunt Reed I'm here, or cousin John, or anyone.
Master John isn't here anymore.
As soon as he was of age, he was off to London.
Gambling, that's what it was.
Thousands and thousands of pounds the missus paid for him.
She had to shut up most of the house and turn off other servants.
But still he kept plaguing her for money.
Then last summer he killed himself, Miss Jane.
Found him hanging in his room...
and the cards still on the table where they'd played.
When they told the missus, she had a kind of stroke.
Wandering-like, in her mind.
- Is that you, Bessie? - Yes, ma'am.
Who are you? Go away.
I'm Jane, Aunt Reed. Jane Eyre.
Jane Eyre.
Nobody could know the trouble I've had with that child.
A little pauper brat that should've been in the workhouse.
Jane.
Jane Eyre.
Oh.
Oh, don't leave me, Jane. Please don't leave me.
I won't leave you.
No, sir, missus can't see nobody. She's been ill for months.
Oh, I'm sorry.
I wanted to make some inquiries about a niece of hers, Miss Eyre.
- Would you wait inside a moment, sir? - Thank you.
Thank you.
- A gentleman to see you. - I don't want to see him.
- I don't want to see anyone. - Don't be foolish.
You can't live alone like the man in the moon. I'll sit with the missus.
Run along, now. He's waiting.
- Jane. - How did you know I was here?
I didn't. I was trying to find you.
I received an inquiry about you the other day.
You didn't stay in that place you went to very long, did you? Didn't you like it?
What happened?
I had to leave.
Forgive me. It's no business of mine.
All the same, I do feel obliged to ask you about this letter.
It comes from a lawyer in Millcote.
Writes to me as the person who you gave as reference...
when you went to Thornfield. That's near Millcote, isn't it?
A client of his wants to know your whereabouts.
You know who's inquiring for you?
Jane, if you don't want me to talk about this anymore, I won't.
- Thank you, Dr. Rivers. - It's for you to say.
Or would you rather I didn't answer it at all?
That's much better. Thank you very much, sir.
Thirty shillings. Thirty-five bob. Anyone for 35? Two pounds his bid.
Going at £2. Going, going. Take it away, Bill.
<i>Jane.</i>
<i>Jane.</i>
<i>Jane.</i>
<i>It seemed to cry of a soul in pain, and appeal so wild and urgent</i>
<i>that I knew I must go, and go quickly.</i>
<i>Only when I knew what had happened to him...</i>
<i>only when I had looked once more upon that tortured face... could I make my decision.</i>
It was she who did it, Miss Eyre.
She struck down Grace Poole as she slept.
And then she set fire to Thornfield.
It was her laugh in the gallery that woke me.
I ran into the nursery and wrapped Adele in a shawl and carried her down.
And as we came out into the courtyard, I heard her laugh again.
I looked up, and there she was on the roof...
laughing and waving her arms above the battlements.
Mr. Edward saw her as he came out.
He did not say anything...
but went straight back into the house to try to save her.
All this side of the house was blazing.
There was smoke everywhere. Then it cleared.
And suddenly we saw Mr. Edward behind her on the battlements.
She saw him too. He came towards her to help her down.
She stood very still for a moment.
And just as he seemed to reach her, she gave a dreadful scream...
and ran from him to the edge.
The next moment, she lay smashed on the pavement before us.
She was dead, Miss Eyre.
Mr. Edward?
The great staircase fell in as he was coming down.
- Mrs. Fairfax? - Yes, sir?
What the deuce are you doing in this part of the house?
- Adele is waiting for her supper. - Yes, sir.
Here, Pilot.
Who's there?
Who are you?
I've come back, sir.
Edward. Edward.
Her very fingers, huh?
Her small, soft fingers.
Her hair.
Her little flower-soft face.
- And her heart too, Edward. - Jane.
All you can feel now is mere pity.
- I don't want your pity. - Edward.
You can't spend your life with a mere wreckage of a man.
You're young and fresh. You ought to get married.
Don't send me away. Please don't send me away.
You think I want to let you go?
Jane.
<i>As the months went past, he came to see the light once more...</i>
<i>as well as to feel its warmth.</i>
<i>To see first the glory of the sun and then the mild splendor of the moon...</i>
<i>and at last the evening star.</i>
<i>And then one day, when our first-born was put into his arms...</i>
<i>he could see that the boy had inherited his own eyes as they once were.</i>
<i>Large, brilliant and black.</i>
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