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not pleasant to dwell upon the details of

my destitution after two days on the moors

without food with this feeling of faintness and

chill must I lay my head on the

cold drenched ground shall I be an outcast

again this night oh some people say there

is enjoyment in looking back on painful experience

past I do not.

the light was yet there shining dim but

constant through the rain how desolate

how desperate my own position seemed compared with

these.

they were all delicacy and cultivation I'd nowhere

seen such faces as theirs.

yet beg from them I must or die.

what's your business at this hour?

may I speak to your mistresses?

not you.

what can they do for you?

a night shelter, an outhouse anywhere and a

morsel of bread.

don't shut the door.

I must arrange driving in.

let me see the young lady.

indeed I won't.

you're not what you ought to be.

move off.

I fear you've some ill plans agate.

not only the

anchor of hope but the footing of fortitude

was gone.

I can but die.

believe in God.

let me try to await his will in

silence.

all men must die.

who speaks?

but all are not condemned to meet a

premature doom.

yes open quickly.

oh come in.

such a wild night.

your sisters were uneasy and there's been bad

folks about us at Beggartwood.

not gone yet.

get up for shame.

hush Hannah.

you did your duty in excluding.

let me do mine in admitting her.

mr.

St. John.

I must examine into this case.

young woman rise.

is she ill or only famished?

the latter I think.

warm some milk.

what is your name?

Jane.

Elliot.

where do you live?

where are your friends?

none.

I have none.

poor pallid wanderer.

it is as well we took her in.

her state of lethargy is due to excessive

and protracted fatigue.

rather an unusual physiognomy not indicative of vulgarity

or degradation.

she looks sensible but not at all handsome.

she's not an uneducated person.

her accent was quite pure.

I imagine she'll recover rapidly enough.

on the third day I was better.

on the fourth I could speak, move.

did you ever go a-begging before you

came here?

I'm no beggar.

any more than yourself were you young lady.

oh I don't understand that.

you've like no house and no brass.

it's the wonder of a house and brass

by which I suppose you mean money.

let's not make a beggar.

are you book learned?

yes very.

what are you going to do with those

gooseberries?

macamita pies.

oh let me pick them.

top and tail in there.

I don't want you to do nought.

please I must do some.

you'll need a towel at least to muckie

your dress.

oh you've not been used to servant's work

I see by your hands.

have you ever been to school?

yes I was at a boarding school eight

years.

eight?

whatever can you keep yourself for then?

I have.

I trust I shall again.

but never mind where I've been.

tell me the name of this house.

some call it Marsh End and some call

it Moor House.

and the gentleman who lives here?

oh he don't live here.

not Mr. St. John.

he has his own parish at Morton.

he is a parson.

aye don't you?

this were his father's house.

all Mr. Rivers.

so his name is Mr. St. John Rivers.

aye and his sisters are Diana and Mary.

their father is dead you said?

aye three weeks in a stroke.

and they have no mother.

mistress has been dead this many a year.

I've lived with the family for 30.

I nursed them all three.

that proves you must have been an honest

and faithful servant.

I will say that much for you though

you have had the incivility to call me

a best.

oh your mun forgive me.

so many chiefs goes about.

do you wish to turn me from the

door?

and on such a night as you should

not have shut out a dog.

oh it were hard but I thought more

of the children nor myself.

they'd like nobody to take care of them

but me.

I'm like to look sharpish.

you want to think too hard of me.

no but I do.

it's not so much because you refuse me

shelter.

I might have been an imposter but just

now you made it a species of reproach

that I had no brass and no house.

some of the best people that ever lived

have been as destitute as I am.

and if you're a Christian you should not

consider poverty a crime.

no more I ought.

Mr. St. John tells me so too.

I see I were wrong.

but I've a clear different notion on you

now to what I had.

you look a right down decent little creature.

I forgive you now.

I accept your account of yourself and I

shall respect your reluctance to divulge the reasons

for your leaving your post as governess as

well as indeed the whereabouts of that employment.

you said your name was Jane Elliot.

yes I did and it is the name

I think it expedient to be called at

present but it is not my real name

and to hear it sounds strange.

your real name you will not give.

no I fear discovery and whatever disclosure might

lead to it I avoid.

I'm sure you're right.

now do brother let her be at peace

for a while.

I cannot Diana.

if I am to give the aid this

lady requests.

you desire to be independent of us.

yes I do.

show me work or how to seek it

that is all I ask.

then let me go.

but till then let me stay here.

I dread another essay of the horrors of

homeless destitution.

indeed you shall stay here.

you must.

my sisters you see have pleasure in keeping

you as they would in cherishing a wild

bird with a broken wing.

but I feel more inclination to put you

in the way of keeping yourself.

but observe my sphere is narrow.

I'm but the incumbent of a poor country

parish.

my help must be of the humblest kind.

she said she's willing to do anything honest

she can do.

why are you so crusty St. John?

some people are inclined to despise the day

of small things Diana.

oh I wouldn't.

I'll be a dressmaker a plain workwoman.

servant nurse girl if I can do no

better.

right if such is your true spirit I

promise to aid you.

and had I forgotten mr Rochester all this

while not for a moment.

his idea was still with me because it

was not a vapor sunshine could disperse.

it was a name graven on a tablet

fated to last as long as the marble

it inscribed.

Diana and Mary became as two sisters to

me.

our natures dovetailed.

the strongest mutual affection was the result.

their brother however was another matter.

Diana Mary.

we shall have windbury pie for supper St.

John.

come through I beg you.

why mr J you have picked a quantity.

oh Diana and Mary did.

I idled by the stream quite right.

you gather your strength.

nothing.

no.

our men.

we can yet live.

it makes us no worse off than we

were before.

only it forces rather strongly on the mind

the picture of what might have been had

our uncle chosen and contrasts it somewhat too

vividly with what is.

is anything wrong?

a private matter.

both sisters seemed struck.

the tidings whatever they were seemed more momentous

than afflicting.

may I know what has occurred?

yes of course.

our uncle John has died.

you may think it's hard-hearted not to

be more moved by the death of so

near a relation but we've never known him

or seen him.

our father and he quarreled long ago and

it was through uncle John's advice that father

lost most of his property in a speculation.

father always cherished the idea that he would

atone by leaving us a competency but he

has not.

we had to receive 30 guineas between us

to purchase mourning rings.

oh I'm sorry.

we were of course foolish to hope.

fulfill now oh lord the desires and petitions

of thy servants as may be most expedient

for them.

granting in this world knowledge of thy truth

and in the world to come life everlasting.

amen.

good night mr Sidgerton.

good night Hannah.

will you stay a moment?

good night brother.

good night brother.

good night.

you have heard of employment for me?

yes but it is a service of poverty

and obscurity.

you may even think it degrading.

my parish at Morton requires a school for

girls and that school requires a mistress.

will you take the post?

oh yes I thank you with all my

heart.

but you comprehend me.

it is a village school.

your scholars will be poor girls quite unlettered.

there is a small cottage also attached to

the school.

two rooms only.

it will be a monstrous labor.

I understand what I undertake.

very well.

so be it.

I'm going to be going now miss Elliot.

oh thank you Ruth.

home you go then.

take your wages.

oh thank you ma'am.

you pictured our school just like.

oh do you think so?

aye ma'am.

oh Ruth tell Mary Garrett not to forget

the holly she promised for tomorrow.

no ma'am.

good night.

good night Ruth.

I thought myself happy had I not made

the right choice.

shunning temptation.

adhering to principle.

my labors as a school mistress were now

rewarded in the village with cordial salutations.

I lived amidst general regard.

why then do I find myself weeping?

I cannot stay long.

I've only brought a little parcel my sister

sent me yesterday and their letter too.

it is addressed to you too as well

as myself.

thank you.

I think it's a color box.

some pencils and paper.

but you must open it.

oh you're right.

it is most welcome.

I hear nothing but praise of you on

all sides in the village.

your pupil's progress has been remarkable.

you now begin to enjoy a sense of

tranquility Jane.

I do not repine.

nor look back.

I feel my solitude occasionally once the day's

work is done.

of course.

it is hard to control the workings of

inclination and turn the bent of nature but

it may be done.

I know from experience.

a year ago I was myself intensely miserable

because I thought I'd made a mistake in

entering the ministry.

its uniform duties wearied me to death.

I burned for the more active life of

the world.

for the destiny of an artist, author, orator,

politician.

anything rather than a priest yes.

a soldier even.

but God all the while had given me

an errand to bear which afar I needed

all the skills and strengths of soldier, statesman,

and orator.

for all these center in the good missionary

and so I resolved to be.

from that moment all doubts cleared.

the fetters dissolved.

I had bent my nature to the will

of God.

so may you Jane.

I wonder.

you still have not said why you brave

the snow to come.

I grew tired of my mute books and

empty room.

besides since yesterday I have experienced the excitement

of a person to whom a tale has

been half told.

I'm impatient to hear the sequel.

I wish Diane and Mary could come and

live with you.

they the de Peau must work.

have you heard from them?

not since the letter I brought you last

week.

and your own arrangements with the missionary society?

you've not been summoned away sooner than expected.

no.

would that I had but such a chance

is too good to befall me.

now I spoke of a tale half told.

let me assume the part of narrator though

I must warn you the story may sound

somewhat hackneyed in your ears.

20 years ago a poor curate fell in

love with a rich man's daughter and she

with him.

they married.

the girl's family at once disowned her.

within two years the rash pair were dead.

I have seen their grave.

they left a daughter.

mr Rivers.

charity received her carried the friendless thing to

the house of its rich maternal relations to

be reared by an aunt-in-law.

I come to names now.

she was called mrs Reed of Gateshead.

do not trouble yourself to tell me the

rest.

after 10 years mrs Reed transferred this orphan

to Lowood school where you so long resided.

finally she left to be a governess as

you did.

to undertake the education of the ward of

a certain mr Rochester.

mr Rivers I do not wish to hear

more.

I must insist.

of mr Rochester's character I know nothing but

the fact that he proposed honorable marriage to

this young girl and at the very altar

she discovered he had a wife yet alive

though a lunatic.

what his subsequent conduct and proposals were I

do not know but the governess fled and

every research after her has so far been

in vain yet that she should be found

has become a matter of urgency.

why?

do you have news of mr Rochester?

how is he?

where is he?

what's he doing?

is he well?

you should rather ask the name of the

governess and the nature of the event which

requires her appearance.

you know nothing of mr Rochester.

no more than I have imparted.

oh.

and that I learned from the letter of

a solicitor a mr Briggs.

his informant was a lady Alice Fairfax.

Briggs wrote to me of a Jane Eyre.

I knew a Jane Elliot.

you will I hope forgive me.

this caught my eye the last time I

called.

you must have written your true name in

an idle moment.

yes I must have.

you own the name and renounce the alias.

oh of course but did no one go

to Thornfield?

you forget essential points in pursuing trifles.

you do not ask why mr Briggs sought

after you.

well what did he want?

merely to tell you that your uncle mr

Eyre of Madeira is dead.

that he has left you all his property

and that you are now rich.

aye but I cannot be.

yes rich quite in errors.

it is a fine thing to be lifted

in a moment from poverty to wealth but

it is not a matter one can comprehend

all at once.

still you do not ask how much you

are worth.

how much?

nothing much to speak of.

a trifling twenty thousand pounds.

well if you were a murderess discovered you

could scarcely look more aghast.

but it is a large sum.

don't you think there's been a mistake?

perhaps you read the figures wrong.

it is written in words not figures.

twenty thousand.

well I must leave you to your sorrows.

wait.

puzzles me why this solicitor should write to

you.

the clergy are often appealed to about odd

matters.

no that does not satisfy me.

another time it is late.

no tonight.

I should rather not.

but you shall.

you must.

very well.

it is simple enough.

you are not perhaps aware that I am

your namesake.

that I was christened St John Eyre Rivers.

no in an instant by instinct I knew

how the matter stood.

Eyre was your mother's name?

yes it was.

she had two brothers.

one my father the other my uncle of

you have guessed correctly.

but then you and Diane and Mary are

my cousins.

we are cousins yes.

now now I have found wealth indeed.

wealth to the heart.

I'm glad.

did I not say you neglected essentials to

chase trifles?

you were serious a moment ago when I

told you that you had got a fortune

now for a matter of no moment you

are excited.

what can you mean?

it may be of no importance to you.

you have sisters and do not care for

a cousin.

but I had nobody and now three relations

or two if you do not choose to

be counted are born into my world full

grown.

I say again I am glad.

have I not said you are gotten too

much by the heart's affections Jane?

oh I am.

I confess it so much so that I...

well you must write to Diane and Mary

and tell them to come home directly.

I intend to benefit them with five thousand

pounds apiece.

and you also.

Jane you really must tranquilize your feelings.

but why?

you cannot fail to see that twenty thousand

pounds divided equally between the four of us

gives five thousand each.

no this is acting on first impulses.

yes and it is also just.

our uncle...

our uncle should have done what I propose.

three mourning wings.

possibly but he did not.

therefore no division is necessary and you may

with a clear conscience consider the entire fortune

absolutely your own.

oh but I could not and I shall

not.

God rest you merry gentlemen.

let nothing you dismay.

remember Christ our savior was born on Christmas

Day.

my insistence was rewarded.

Moorhouse refurbished.

the legacy divided justly.

immutably.

even our lawyers smiled to see natural justice

performed.

it was a time of holiday and we

were all content.

save St. John.

he had another master to serve.

his was the ambition of the high master

spirit which aims to fill a place in

the first rank of those who are redeemed

from earth.

Jane what are you doing?

learning German as well as I'm able.

will you help me study Hindustani?

you're not in earnest.

it will be a great service.

I would have asked my sisters but I

have observed in you a greater capacity for

application.

will you do me and God this favor?

Jane may I interrupt this lesson?

it is important.

of course.

I leave for India in six weeks.

God will protect you.

you have undertaken his work.

yes there is my glory and joy.

I am the servant of an infallible master.

it seems strange to me that all around

me do not burn to enlist under the

same banner.

all have not your powers.

it would be folly for the feeble to

attempt to march with the strong.

I do not speak to the feeble Jane.

you are not feeble.

I?

neither in spirit nor body.

Jane come with me to India.

come as my helpmate and fellow laborer.

it was as if I had a summons

from heaven but I was no apostle.

sir have some mercy.

God intended you for a missionary's wife.

it is not personal but mental adornments he

has given you.

you were formed for a labor not for

love.

a missionary's wife you must shall be.

I claim you not for my pleasure but

for my sovereign service.

I am not fitted for it.

I have no vocation.

who is fit for the work?

none.

yet we are chosen.

I know nothing of a missionary life.

I've never studied missionary labors.

and I can help you Jane.

I can set your task from hour to

hour.

where are my powers for such an undertaking?

I do not feel them.

do not persuade me to attempt what I

cannot perform.

you can.

have I not observed you?

in the village school you performed well a

labor uncongenial to your inclinations.

in the calm with which you learned of

your inheritance I read of a mind clear

of the vice of demons.

Luca has no undue power over you.

in the resolute readiness with which you cut

your wealth into four shares I recognized a

soul that reveled in the flame and excitement

of sacrifice.

Jane you are docile diligent courageous very gentle

and very heroic.

cease to mistrust yourself.

I trust you unreservedly.

as a conductress of Indian schools and a

helper among Indian women your assistance will be

to me invaluable.

my iron shroud contracted round me.

I could do what he wanted if life

was spared me.

he would never love me but oh he'd

approve me.

I would show him such energies resources he

had never suspected I possessed.

your answer Jane.

but marriage to him would be a monstrous

martyrdom of half my nature.

Jane.

I am ready to go with you to

India if I may go free as a

sister to you.

that cannot be.

I want a wife.

the sole helpmate I can influence efficiently in

life and retain absolutely till death.

seek one elsewhere than in me singed and

seek one fitted to you.

oh I will go with you as a

missionary but not as a wife.

do you think God will be satisfied with

half a sacrifice?

it is the cause of God I advocate.

I cannot accept on his behalf divided allegiance.

it must be entire.

I will give my heart to God.

you do not want it.

Jane we must be married.

there is no other way and undoubtedly enough

of love would follow upon marriage to render

the union right even in your eyes.

I scorn your idea of love.

it is a cunt of each sentiment you

offer and yes singe and I scorn you

when you offer it.

I scarcely expected such an answer.

I think I have done and uttered nothing

to deserve scorn.

forgive my words but it is your own

fault.

you have introduced a topic on which our

natures are at variance.

dear cousin abandon your scheme of marriage.

no it is long cherished but I shall

urge you no further at present.

reflect and consider well.

who is it?

Diane.

come in.

Jane you must tell me what business you

and my brother have on hand.

so agitated so pale.

I wish he loved you Jane.

does he?

not one whit.

then why does he follow you with his

eyes and get you so frequently alone with

him?

both Mary and I had concluded that he

wished you to marry him.

oh he has asked me to be his

wife or rather a fitting fellow labourer in

his Indian tours.

he wishes you to go to India?

yes.

but that is madness.

you would not live three months in India.

you've not consented.

I have refused to marry.

and consequently displeased him deeply.

and yet I offer to accompany