Chapter 25 Mrs Reed's secret

1 I reached Gateshead at about five o'clock in the afternoon and went first to see Bessie, who insisted on my having some tea. Old times crowded back into my mind as I watched her moving about in her home, giving her children an occasional tap or push, just as she used to give me in former days. She still had her quick temper as well as her good looks.

2 After about an hour I walked with her towards the house which I had left, nearly nine years before, despairing and lonely. My future was doubtful still, and still I had an aching heart: I still felt a wanderer on the face of the earth, but I experienced firmer trust in myself and less fear of injustice. The wound of my wrongs, too, was now quite healed.

3 'You shall go to the breakfast room first,' said Bessie. 'The young ladies will be there.'

4 In another moment I was within that room. There was every article of furniture looking just as it did on the morning when I was first introduced to Mr Brocklehurst. Even the rug that he had stood on still lay in front of the fire. Looking at the bookshelves, I thought I could see Gulliver's Travels in its old place on the third shelf.

5 The living persons, however, had changed so much that I did not recognise them. Two young ladies appeared before me. One was very tall and thin, with a severe expression and an extremely plain dress. This, I felt, must be Eliza. The other, fair-skinned, with good-looking and regular features, blue eyes and yellow hair, was Georgiana.

6 Both, as I advanced, rose to welcome me, and then, after the greeting, paid me no further attention except that the younger one examined in a critical manner the simple and unfashionable quality of my clothes.

7 Their neglect no longer had any power to hurt me, and when they seemed unwilling that I should see their mother immediately, I went without asking them.

8 I did not need to be guided to the well-known room, to which I had so often been called for punishment in former days. I approached the bed, and eagerly looked at the familiar features. It is a happy thing that time ends the desire for revenge, and calms the feelings of anger and hate. I bent down and kissed my aunt. She looked up at me.

9 'Is it Jane Eyre?' she said.

10 'Yes, Aunt Reed. How are you, dear aunt?'

11 I had once sworn never to call her 'aunt' again. I thought it no shame to forget this now. My fingers fastened on her hand, which lay outside the sheet, but Mrs Reed took her hand away, and turned her face from me.

12 I felt pain, and then I felt anger. My tears had risen, just as in childhood, but I kept them back.

13 'You sent for me,' I said, 'and I am here.'

14 'Oh, of course! Tell my daughters I wish you to stay until I can talk to you about something that is troubling me. There was something I wished to say ... let me see ... '

15 The wandering look and strange voice told what change had taken place in her once healthy form. Turning restlessly, she found my arm resting on a corner of the sheet.

16 'Sit up!' she said. 'Don't annoy me with holding the sheet fast. Are you Jane Eyre?'

17 'I am Jane Eyre.'

18 'I have had more trouble with that child than anyone would believe. Such an unwelcome thing to be left on my hands! I was glad to get her away from the house. The fever broke out in Lowood. She did not die, but I said she did—I wish she had died!'

19 'Why do you hate her so, Mrs Reed?'

20 'I had a dislike for her mother. My husband was so fond of his sister that he sent for her baby when she died. It was a weak thing, always crying. My husband used to take more notice of it than of his own children, and he was angry with them when they would not play with it. He made me promise to look after it. John is not like his father, and I am glad of it. Oh, I wish he would stop asking me for money! John spends terribly on cards, and always loses, poor boy! I have heavy troubles. What is to be done?'

21 By now she was becoming very excited and confused. Bessie with difficulty persuaded her to take some medicine. She became calmer, and I left her.

22 More than ten days passed before I had any more conversation with her. I had little satisfaction in the society of my two cousins, but I had my drawing materials with me, and with them I occupied my time. Georgiana, after a time, was pleased to have me draw a picture of her, and to confide in me the various love affairs that she had enjoyed in London two years before. Eliza spoke little, but occasionally quarrelled with her sister.

23 One wet, windy afternoon, Georgiana had fallen asleep over a novel, and Eliza had gone to church. I thought I would go upstairs and see how the dying woman was, who lay there half neglected, as the servants and nurse were lazy, her daughters did not care, and Bessie was occupied with her own family. I found the sickroom unattended, as I had expected.

24 The patient lay still, and I looked long on her who could now no longer look at me. I remembered Helen Burns, and was listening in imagination to her well-loved voice as she said her last words to me, when a weak murmur came from the bed:

25 'Who is that?'

26 I answered, but it was some time before Mrs Reed could recognise me.

27 'I am very ill now,' she said, after a time. 'It is better that I should relieve my mind before I die. What we think little of when in health, troubles us in such an hour as this is to me. Is there anyone else here?'

28 I told her that we were alone.

29 'Well, I have twice done you a wrong which I regret now. One was in breaking the promise which I gave to my husband to bring you up as my own child. The other ... ' She stopped. 'After all, it is of no great importance, perhaps,' she murmured to herself, 'and then, I may get better, and to shame myself so to her is painful.'

30 She made an attempt to move, but failed. Her face changed.

31 'Well, I must do it. I had better tell her. Go to my writing-desk, open it, and take out a letter that you will see there.'

32 I obeyed her directions.

33 'Read the letter,' she said.

34 It was short, and was as follows:

Madam,

35 Will you have the goodness to send me the address of my niece Jane Eyre, and to tell me how she is? It is my intention to write shortly and ask her to come and live with me here in Madeira. God has blessed me with success in my business, and as I am unmarried and childless, I wish to adopt her and leave her at my death whatever I may then possess.

I am, Madam,

Yours faithfully,

John Eyre.

36 It was dated three years back.

37 'Why did I never hear of this?' I asked.

38 'Because I disliked you too deeply. I could not forget how you once accused me of cruelty, and told me you hated me the worst of anyone in the world. I took my revenge. I wrote and told your uncle that Jane Eyre had died of fever at Lowood. Now do as you please.'

39 'Dear Mrs Reed,' I said, 'think no more of all this. Forgive me for my passionate language—I was a child then. If you could only be persuaded to think of me kindly ... '

40 'You have a very bad nature,' she replied, 'and even now I find it impossible to understand how for nine years you could be patient under any treatment, and in the tenth break out, all fire and violence.'

41 'I am not so bad as you think. Many a time, as a child, I should have been glad to love you if you would have let me. Kiss me, Aunt.'

42 I approached my face to her lips. She would not touch it. Her hands were growing cold. Bessie entered. I waited half an hour longer, but she made no sign. At twelve o'clock that night she died.