My first quarter at Lowood seemed an age; and not the golden age either; it comprised

an irksome struggle with difficulties in habituating myself to new rules and

unwonted tasks.

The fear of failure in these points harassed me worse than the physical

hardships of my lot; though these were no trifles.

During January, February, and part of March, the deep snows, and, after their

melting, the almost impassable roads, prevented our stirring beyond the garden

walls, except to go to church; but within

these limits we had to pass an hour every day in the open air.

Our clothing was insufficient to protect us from the severe cold: we had no boots, the

snow got into our shoes and melted there: our ungloved hands became numbed and

covered with chilblains, as were our feet:

I remember well the distracting irritation I endured from this cause every evening,

when my feet inflamed; and the torture of thrusting the swelled, raw, and stiff toes

into my shoes in the morning.

Then the scanty supply of food was distressing: with the keen appetites of

growing children, we had scarcely sufficient to keep alive a delicate

invalid.

From this deficiency of nourishment resulted an abuse, which pressed hardly on

the younger pupils: whenever the famished great girls had an opportunity, they would

coax or menace the little ones out of their portion.

Many a time I have shared between two claimants the precious morsel of brown

bread distributed at tea-time; and after relinquishing to a third half the contents

of my mug of coffee, I have swallowed the

remainder with an accompaniment of secret tears, forced from me by the exigency of

hunger. Sundays were dreary days in that wintry

season.

We had to walk two miles to Brocklebridge Church, where our patron officiated.

We set out cold, we arrived at church colder: during the morning service we

became almost paralysed.

It was too far to return to dinner, and an allowance of cold meat and bread, in the

same penurious proportion observed in our ordinary meals, was served round between

the services.

At the close of the afternoon service we returned by an exposed and hilly road,

where the bitter winter wind, blowing over a range of snowy summits to the north,

almost flayed the skin from our faces.

I can remember Miss Temple walking lightly and rapidly along our drooping line, her

plaid cloak, which the frosty wind fluttered, gathered close about her, and

encouraging us, by precept and example, to

keep up our spirits, and march forward, as she said, "like stalwart soldiers."

The other teachers, poor things, were generally themselves too much dejected to

attempt the task of cheering others.

How we longed for the light and heat of a blazing fire when we got back!

But, to the little ones at least, this was denied: each hearth in the schoolroom was

immediately surrounded by a double row of great girls, and behind them the younger

children crouched in groups, wrapping their starved arms in their pinafores.

A little solace came at tea-time, in the shape of a double ration of bread--a whole,

instead of a half, slice--with the delicious addition of a thin scrape of

butter: it was the hebdomadal treat to

which we all looked forward from Sabbath to Sabbath.

I generally contrived to reserve a moiety of this bounteous repast for myself; but

the remainder I was invariably obliged to part with.

The Sunday evening was spent in repeating, by heart, the Church Catechism, and the

fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters of St. Matthew; and in listening to a long sermon,

read by Miss Miller, whose irrepressible yawns attested her weariness.

A frequent interlude of these performances was the enactment of the part of Eutychus

by some half-dozen of little girls, who, overpowered with sleep, would fall down, if

not out of the third loft, yet off the fourth form, and be taken up half dead.

The remedy was, to thrust them forward into the centre of the schoolroom, and oblige

them to stand there till the sermon was finished.

Sometimes their feet failed them, and they sank together in a heap; they were then

propped up with the monitors' high stools.

I have not yet alluded to the visits of Mr. Brocklehurst; and indeed that gentleman was

from home during the greater part of the first month after my arrival; perhaps

prolonging his stay with his friend the archdeacon: his absence was a relief to me.

I need not say that I had my own reasons for dreading his coming: but come he did at

last.

One afternoon (I had then been three weeks at Lowood), as I was sitting with a slate

in my hand, puzzling over a sum in long division, my eyes, raised in abstraction to

the window, caught sight of a figure just

passing: I recognised almost instinctively that gaunt outline; and when, two minutes

after, all the school, teachers included, rose en masse, it was not necessary for

me to look up in order to ascertain whose entrance they thus greeted.

A long stride measured the schoolroom, and presently beside Miss Temple, who herself

had risen, stood the same black column which had frowned on me so ominously from

the hearthrug of Gateshead.

I now glanced sideways at this piece of architecture.

Yes, I was right: it was Mr. Brocklehurst, buttoned up in a surtout, and looking

longer, narrower, and more rigid than ever.

I had my own reasons for being dismayed at this apparition; too well I remembered the

perfidious hints given by Mrs. Reed about my disposition, &c.; the promise pledged by

Mr. Brocklehurst to apprise Miss Temple and the teachers of my vicious nature.

All along I had been dreading the fulfilment of this promise,--I had been

looking out daily for the "Coming Man," whose information respecting my past life

and conversation was to brand me as a bad child for ever: now there he was.

He stood at Miss Temple's side; he was speaking low in her ear: I did not doubt he

was making disclosures of my villainy; and I watched her eye with painful anxiety,

expecting every moment to see its dark orb

turn on me a glance of repugnance and contempt.

I listened too; and as I happened to be seated quite at the top of the room, I

caught most of what he said: its import relieved me from immediate apprehension.

"I suppose, Miss Temple, the thread I bought at Lowton will do; it struck me that

it would be just of the quality for the calico chemises, and I sorted the needles

to match.

You may tell Miss Smith that I forgot to make a memorandum of the darning needles,

but she shall have some papers sent in next week; and she is not, on any account, to

give out more than one at a time to each

pupil: if they have more, they are apt to be careless and lose them.

And, O ma'am!

I wish the woollen stockings were better looked to!--when I was here last, I went

into the kitchen-garden and examined the clothes drying on the line; there was a

quantity of black hose in a very bad state

of repair: from the size of the holes in them I was sure they had not been well

mended from time to time." He paused.

"Your directions shall be attended to, sir," said Miss Temple.

"And, ma'am," he continued, "the laundress tells me some of the girls have two clean

tuckers in the week: it is too much; the rules limit them to one."

"I think I can explain that circumstance, sir.

Agnes and Catherine Johnstone were invited to take tea with some friends at Lowton

last Thursday, and I gave them leave to put on clean tuckers for the occasion."

Mr. Brocklehurst nodded.

"Well, for once it may pass; but please not to let the circumstance occur too often.

And there is another thing which surprised me; I find, in settling accounts with the

housekeeper, that a lunch, consisting of bread and cheese, has twice been served out

to the girls during the past fortnight.

How is this? I looked over the regulations, and I find

no such meal as lunch mentioned. Who introduced this innovation? and by what

authority?"

"I must be responsible for the circumstance, sir," replied Miss Temple:

"the breakfast was so ill prepared that the pupils could not possibly eat it; and I

dared not allow them to remain fasting till dinner-time."

"Madam, allow me an instant.

You are aware that my plan in bringing up these girls is, not to accustom them to

habits of luxury and indulgence, but to render them hardy, patient, self-denying.

Should any little accidental disappointment of the appetite occur, such as the spoiling

of a meal, the under or the over dressing of a dish, the incident ought not to be

neutralised by replacing with something

more delicate the comfort lost, thus pampering the body and obviating the aim of

this institution; it ought to be improved to the spiritual edification of the pupils,

by encouraging them to evince fortitude under temporary privation.

A brief address on those occasions would not be mistimed, wherein a judicious

instructor would take the opportunity of referring to the sufferings of the

primitive Christians; to the torments of

martyrs; to the exhortations of our blessed Lord Himself, calling upon His disciples to

take up their cross and follow Him; to His warnings that man shall not live by bread

alone, but by every word that proceedeth

out of the mouth of God; to His divine consolations, "If ye suffer hunger or

thirst for My sake, happy are ye."

Oh, madam, when you put bread and cheese, instead of burnt porridge, into these

children's mouths, you may indeed feed their vile bodies, but you little think how

you starve their immortal souls!"

Mr. Brocklehurst again paused--perhaps overcome by his feelings.

Miss Temple had looked down when he first began to speak to her; but she now gazed

straight before her, and her face, naturally pale as marble, appeared to be

assuming also the coldness and fixity of

that material; especially her mouth, closed as if it would have required a sculptor's

chisel to open it, and her brow settled gradually into petrified severity.

Meantime, Mr. Brocklehurst, standing on the hearth with his hands behind his back,

majestically surveyed the whole school.

Suddenly his eye gave a blink, as if it had met something that either dazzled or

shocked its pupil; turning, he said in more rapid accents than he had hitherto used--

"Miss Temple, Miss Temple, what--what is that girl with curled hair?

Red hair, ma'am, curled--curled all over?"

And extending his cane he pointed to the awful object, his hand shaking as he did

so. "It is Julia Severn," replied Miss Temple,

very quietly.

"Julia Severn, ma'am! And why has she, or any other, curled hair?

Why, in defiance of every precept and principle of this house, does she conform

to the world so openly--here in an evangelical, charitable establishment--as

to wear her hair one mass of curls?"

"Julia's hair curls naturally," returned Miss Temple, still more quietly.

"Naturally!

Yes, but we are not to conform to nature; I wish these girls to be the children of

Grace: and why that abundance?

I have again and again intimated that I desire the hair to be arranged closely,

modestly, plainly.

Miss Temple, that girl's hair must be cut off entirely; I will send a barber to-

morrow: and I see others who have far too much of the excrescence--that tall girl,

tell her to turn round.

Tell all the first form to rise up and direct their faces to the wall."

Miss Temple passed her handkerchief over her lips, as if to smooth away the

involuntary smile that curled them; she gave the order, however, and when the first

class could take in what was required of them, they obeyed.

Leaning a little back on my bench, I could see the looks and grimaces with which they

commented on this manoeuvre: it was a pity Mr. Brocklehurst could not see them too; he

would perhaps have felt that, whatever he

might do with the outside of the cup and platter, the inside was further beyond his

interference than he imagined.

He scrutinised the reverse of these living medals some five minutes, then pronounced

sentence. These words fell like the knell of doom--

"All those top-knots must be cut off."

Miss Temple seemed to remonstrate.

"Madam," he pursued, "I have a Master to serve whose kingdom is not of this world:

my mission is to mortify in these girls the lusts of the flesh; to teach them to clothe

themselves with shame-facedness and

sobriety, not with braided hair and costly apparel; and each of the young persons

before us has a string of hair twisted in plaits which vanity itself might have

woven; these, I repeat, must be cut off; think of the time wasted, of--"

Mr. Brocklehurst was here interrupted: three other visitors, ladies, now entered

the room.

They ought to have come a little sooner to have heard his lecture on dress, for they

were splendidly attired in velvet, silk, and furs.

The two younger of the trio (fine girls of sixteen and seventeen) had grey beaver

hats, then in fashion, shaded with ostrich plumes, and from under the brim of this

graceful head-dress fell a profusion of

light tresses, elaborately curled; the elder lady was enveloped in a costly velvet

shawl, trimmed with ermine, and she wore a false front of French curls.

These ladies were deferentially received by Miss Temple, as Mrs. and the Misses