Original subtitles

You don't turn sick at the sight of blood?

I think I should not. I have never been tried yet.

Wait here.

I will do as you say, sir.

That was Grace Poole.

Here, Jane.

Mr. Mason!

The salts.

Is there any danger?

No, man. A mere scratch. Don't be so overcome.

Bear up. I'll fetch a surgeon for you myself.

We'll be able to remove you by morning, I hope.

-Jane. -Sir?

I must leave you in this room with this gentleman for an hour,

-perhaps two. -Yes, sir.

Take the sponge

and wipe away the blood whenever it begins to flow.

If he feels faint, there's a glass of water on that stand.

Put it to his lips and use the salts.

Very well.

You will not speak to him. on any pretext.

Hurry, Rochester.

And Richard,

it will be at peril of your life if you speak to her.

Open your lips, agitate yourself,

and I'll not be answerable for the consequences.

Remember, not one word must be spoken.

Not one word.

Mr. Mason.

Try to keep your eyes open. Try!

Now, Carter, be on the alert.

-How is he? -Just breathing, sir.

Dress the wound. Bandage him properly.

But is he fit to move, sir?

He's got to be. I give you but a half an hour to get him downstairs.

Look, it's nothing vital. Set to work.

How are you, Richard?

She's done for me, I fear.

No, not a whit. Courage, man. You've lost a little blood, that's all.

Carter, assure him there's no danger.

Oh, I can do that truthfully, sir, but how is this?

The flesh near the shoulder here is torn as well as cut.

There are teeth marks here.

She bit like a tigress when Rochester got the knife from her.

You shouldn't have yielded! You should have grappled with her!

She looked so quiet at first. I thought I could do some good.

You thought. You thought!

Well, you've suffered enough.

Carter, hurry.

I must have him off before sunrise.

I must look to this other wound, sir.

She's had her teeth here too.

She sucked the blood. She said she'd drain my heart.

Oh, come, Richard. Be silent, man.

Don't repeat her gibberish.

I cannot forget it.

You will when you're out of the country.

You may think of her as dead and buried.

Never.

Ah, have some energy, man.

You thought you were dead as a herring 2 hours since.

You're alive.

I'll make you decent in a trice.

Doctor…

Jane, give me some water.

You must allow me the liberty of administering my own medicine.

There, drink.

Drink.

But will it hurt me?

Drink it, Richard.

There. You'll be able to stand with help in a few minutes.

Jane, get down to my room.

Open the wardrobe, bring me a clean shirt.

Get Mason's cloak from his room.

Come back and tell me if anybody is about. Be quick.

Keep him at your house till he's quite well.

Take care of him.

I'll ride over in a few days and see how he is.

How are you feeling now, Richard?

The fresh air revives me.

-Edward… -What is it?

Let her be taken care of.

Let her be treated tenderly.

Let…

I do my best.

have done, and shall do.

It's been a strange night for you, Jane.

You look pale.

Were you afraid when I left Mason with you?

I was afraid of something in that other room.

I'd locked the door.

I'd have been a very careless shepherd if I'd left a lamb,

my pet lamb, unguarded so near a wolf's den.

Will Grace Poole stay here now, sir?

Oh, yes.

Don't trouble yourself about her.

Put it out of your mind.

But your life is not safe while she stays.

I'll take care of myself.

Is the danger you feared when Mr. Mason came gone by now, sir?

I cannot vouch for that till Mason is out of the country.

Nor even then.

To live, for me, Jane, is to stand on a crater-crust

that may crack and spew fire any day.

Now you look puzzled. And it's cold.

Not another word till you've been nourished.

But sir…

Do as you are told.

Brandy and biscuits will do.

No servants needed.

Now, Jane,

you are my little friend, are you not?

I like to serve you, sir, and obey you in all that is right.

Precisely.

In all that is right. Only that.

Well,

like Mason, you too now have power over me.

You may injure me by speaking.

I dare not tell you more.

If you have no more to fear from Mr. Mason

than you have from me, sir, you're very safe.

God grant it may be so.

Sit here. I want you by me.

What, you hesitate?

Would that be wrong, Jane?

Now, Jane, I'll put a case to you.

Suppose you were no longer a girl well reared

but a wild boy indulged in childhood.

Imagine yourself in a remote foreign land.

Conceive that there you commit

a capital error,

never mind what,

but one whose consequences must follow you through life

and taint every hour of your existence.

An error?

An error, not a crime.

No shedding of blood or any other guilty act.

I speak of error.

Now, in time,

the consequences of what you have done become utterly insupportable.

Hope has quitted you.

You seek relief in exile,

happiness in a heartless sensual pleasure.

After years of wandering, you come home,

heart-weary and soul-withered.

And then you meet someone.

Never mind who or how.

And you find the goodness you have sought for 20 years.

Such society revives, regenerates.

You long to recommence your life

in a way more worthy of an immortal being.

Are you justified, to attain this end,

in over-leaping an obstacle of custom,

a mere impediment of convention?

Is that person justified in daring the world's opinion

to attach this gentle, gracious life to his own?

No human can help as God can, sir.

But I have found the being, Jane.

You have noticed my tender penchant for Miss Blanche Ingram.

Do you not think if I married her

she would regenerate me with a vengeance?

Yes, sir.

To you I can talk of my lovely one, for now you have seen her.

Yes, sir.

She is a rare one, is she not, Jane?

Yes, sir.

A strapper.

A real strapper.

It seems a fine enough morning.

It will be when the sun is well up.

Leave later.

And so you've already dined with your pupil?

Yes. She will spend the rest of the afternoon with her nurse.

Excuse me, Miss.

I must go and find my husband.

There's someone to see you, Miss,

in Miss fairfax's room.

Thank you, John.

I daresay you hardly remember me, Miss,

but my name is Leaven.

Robert! How do you?

You're married to Bessie. How is she?

She is very hearty, thank you, Miss,

and so are the children. We have 3 now.

But the family at the house,

well, they're very badly. In great trouble.

Your aunt, mrs. Reed, is very ill.

You see, Mr. John, your cousin, he died a week yesterday in London.

Bessie told me he was ruining his health.

They say he killed himself.

The news of Mr. John's death and the manner of it,

it came too suddenly for the missus.

She'd borne too much already.

It brought on a stroke.

Will she live?

All I know, Miss, is that she was 3 days without speaking.

but then she kept trying to say something

and kept making signs to my wife and mumbling.

Well, it was only yesterday morning

Bessie made out she was saying your name.

"Bring Jane".

"Fetch Jane Eyre. I want to speak to her".

If you can get ready, Miss,

I should like to take you back with me.

Yes, Robert. I shall go.

Aye, Bessie said you would.

I shall have to ask for leave first.

I'll do that now.

Oh, I have no end of mystifications.

Try our wits on this one.

Come in.

Now, Mr. Rochester, take any card.

Mr. Rochester, I'm sorry to have intruded.

That person appears to want you.

Does she?

Miss Eshton, kindly oblige Miss Ingram by taking a card.

If you ladies will excuse me.

Well, Jane?

If you please, sir,

I want a leave of absence for a week or two.

What to do? Where to go?

To see a sick lady who has sent for me.

What sick lady?

-Where does she live? -At Gateshead, sir.

Well, that's a hundred miles off.

Who may she be that she sends for people to see her at that distance?

Her name is Reed, sir. Mrs. Reed.

Reed of Gateshead?

There was a Reed of Gateshead, a magistrate.

It is his widow, sir. Mr. Reed was my mother's brother.

-It's miles off. -Yes, sir, but I shall go.

-And how long will you stay? -As short a time as possible.

Promise me you will only stay a week.

I had better not give my word. I might be obliged to break it.

But you will come back.

You won't let them persuade you to stay there.

I will of course return if all be well.

And who goes with you?

You can't go all that way on your own.

The coachman, sir.

His wife keeps the lodge. They're old friends.

-When do you wish to leave? -As soon as I am packed, sir.

Well, you'll need some money.

I've given you no salary.

How much have you in the world, Jane?

5 shillings, sir.

Here.

It is 50 pounds, sir. You owe me but 15.

-I have no change. -I don't want change.

Right. Right.

Here

is 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10.

Is it enough?

Yes, sir. But now you owe me 5.

Come back for it, then.

Mr. Rochester.

I think this a proper time to mention another matter.

I'm curious to hear it.

You have as good as informed me you are shortly to be married.

Yes. What then?

In that case, sir, Adèle ought to go to school.

To get her out of my bride's way, you mean,

who might otherwise walk over her.

There's sense in that.

And you, Jane?

I must seek another situation elsewhere, sir.

You must.

With the help of your family, I suppose.

No, sir. I am not on such terms with them.

I shall advertise.

You shall walk up the pyramids of Egypt!

I wish I had not given you that money now, Jane.

Give me back 9 pounds. Look, I've a use for it.

So have I, sir.

You little niggard.

Well, give me 5 pounds, then.

Not 5 shillings nor 5 pence, sir.

-Just let me look at the money. -No, sir. You are not to be trusted.

Promise me you won't advertise.

Look, if you want a situation, I'll find you one in time.

I shall be glad to, sir,

if you, in your turn, will promise that I and Adèle

shall both be safe out of the house before your bride enters it.

I give you my word on it.

So.

-You're off, then? -Yes.

Then it seems that you and I must bid good-bye for a little while.

How do people perform that ceremony, Jane?

Teach me. I'm not quite up to it.

They say "farewell" or any form they prefer.

Then say it.

Farewell, Mr. Rochester. for the present.

Farewell, Miss Eyre, for the present.

-Is that all? -Yes.

So.

You'll do no more than say "farewell", Jane?

It is enough, sir.

Very likely.

But it is blank and cool.

Farewell.

How do you do, Miss Eyre?

I'm very well, thank you, cousin Eliza.

I hope you are well.

How do you do, Miss Eyre?

I trust the journey was tolerable.

It was, indeed, thank you, cousin Georgiana.

May I sit down?

Oh, do.

I hear Mrs. Reed has rallied a little.

Oh, mama, you mean. She is extremely poorly.

I doubt if you can see her tonight.

If you would just step upstairs and tell her I am here,

I should be much obliged to you.

I know she had a particular desire to see me,

and I would not wish to keep her waiting.

Mama dislikes being disturbed in the evening.

I shall just step out to Bessie and ask her

to ascertain whether Mrs. Reed is disposed to receive me.

Excuse me.

It is I, aunt Reed.

Who? Who are you?

Aunt?

Who calls me aunt?

Oh. I know you.

You are like Jane Eyre.

I am Jane. You sent Bessie for me.

I am very ill.

I know.

I was trying to turn myself a few minutes since.

I cannot move a limb.

It is as well,

I should ease my mind before I die.

What one thinks little of in life

burdens us at such an hour as this.

Is there no one in the room but you?

We are alone, aunt.

Well,

I have twice done you a wrong

which I regret now.

One was in breaking the promise I gave my husband

to bring you up as my own child.

The other…

anyhow…

perhaps it is of no great importance.

I may get better.

To humble myself to her is painful.

Well,

I must get it over.

Eternity is before me.

I had better tell you.

Behind you is my dressing case.

Open it.

You will see a letter there.

Read it.

"Madam, will you please have the goodness

to send me the address of my niece, Jane Eyre,

and tell me how she is?"

"It is my intention to write shortly

and desire to her to come to me at Madeira."

"Providence has blessed my endeavors to secure a competency,

and as I am unmarried and childless,

I wish to adopt her during my life

and bequeath her at my death whatever I may have to leave."

"I am, madam, yours very faithfully.

John Eyre, Madeira."

Why did I never hear of this? It is dated 3 years back.

Because I disliked you too much

ever to help you to prosperity.

I could not forget your conduct to me, Jane,

when you turned on me in such fury

and declared that you abhorred me

worse than anybody in the world.

You frightened me.

Bring me some water.

Make haste.

Please, think no more of it.

Let it pass from your mind.

Forgive me. I was a child. It was 9 years ago.

I tell you I could not forget it

and I took my revenge.

I wrote to your uncle.

I said Jane Eyre was dead.

She died of the typhus at Lowood.

Now act as you please.

Write and contradict my assertions.

Expose my falsehood as soon as you can.

You were born to be my torment.

My last hour is racked by the memory of a deed

which, but for you, I should never have been tempted to commit.

If you could be persuaded to think no more of it, aunt,

and to regard me with kindness and forgiveness.

You have a very bad disposition.

My disposition is not so bad as you think.

I am passionate, but not vindictive.

Many times as a child, I wanted to love you if you'd have let me.

Don't bend over me.

You oppress me.

Love me, then, or hate me.

As you wish.

You have my free and full forgiveness.

Ask now for God's and be at peace.

Bessie? Bessie, she's in a stupor!

Oh, I cannot. I cannot.

With her constitution,

she could have lived to a good old age.

Her life was shortened by trouble.

Subtitles edited by Hai Hung Revised by Héctor Lahoz