24 Jane Eyre Read And Abridged By Stephanie Poppins

Jane Eyre is a woman with a difficult past. Her childhood was at Gateshead Hall, where she was emotionally and physically abused by her aunt and cousins. Her education was at Lowood School, where she gained few friends and role models and suffered privations and oppression. Then she arrives at Thornfield and meets the inimitable Mr Rochester...

In this episode, Jane feels unsettled, almost fearful, when Rochester calls her by what will soon be her name, Jane Rochester. Jane explains that everything feels impossibly ideal, like a fairy tale or a daydream. Rochester tries to turn Jane into a Cinderella-like figure: he tells her he will dress her in jewels and in finery befitting her new social station, at which point Jane becomes terrified and self-protective.

Transcript

Hello.

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Jane Eyre Chapter 24 As I rose and dressed,

I thought over what had happened.

As I rose and dressed,

I thought over what had happened and wondered if it were a dream.

I could not be certain of the reality till I had seen Mr.

Rochester again and heard him renew his words of love and promise.

While arranging my hair,

I looked at my face in the glass and felt it was no longer plain.

There was hope in its aspect and life in its colour,

And my eyes seemed as if they had beheld the fount of fruition.

I had been unwilling to look at my master because I feared he could not be pleased at my look,

But I was sure I might lift my face to his now and not call his affection by its expression.

I took a plain but clean and light summer dress from my drawer and put it on.

It seemed no attire had ever been so well becoming,

Because none I had ever worn in so blissful a mood.

I was not surprised when I ran down into the hall to see a brilliant June morning had succeeded to the tempest of the night,

And to feel through the open glass door the breathing of a fresh and fragrant breeze.

Nature must be handsome when I was so happy.

A beggar woman and her little boy,

Pale,

Ragged objects both,

Were coming up the walk,

And I ran down and gave them all the money I happened to have in my purse,

Some three or four shillings.

The rooks called and blitherbirds sang,

But none was so merry or so musical as my own rejoicing heart.

Mrs.

Fairfax surprised me by looking out the window with a sad countenance and saying gravely,

Miss Eyre,

Will you come to breakfast?

During the meal she was quiet and cool,

But I could not undeceive her then.

I must wait for my master to give explanations,

And so must she.

I ate what I could and hastened upstairs and met Adele leaving the schoolroom.

Where are you going?

It's time for lessons.

Mr.

Rochester sent me away to the nursery.

Where is he?

In there.

She pointed to the apartment she had left and I went in,

And there he stood.

Come and bid me good morning,

Said he.

I gladly advanced,

And it was not merely a cold word now,

Or even a shake of the hand I received,

But an embrace and a kiss.

It seemed natural,

It seemed genial to be so well loved,

So caressed by him.

Jane,

You look blooming and smiling and pretty,

Said he.

Is this my pale little elf?

Is this my mustard seed?

This little sunny-faced girl with a dimpled cheek and rosy lips,

The satin smooth hazel hair and radiant hazel eyes.

I had green eyes,

Reader,

But you must excuse the mistake.

For him they were new dyed,

I suppose.

It is Jane Eyre,

Sir.

Soon to be Jane Rochester,

He added.

In four weeks,

Janet,

Not a day more.

Do you hear that?

I did,

And I could not quite comprehend it.

It made me giddy.

The feeling the announcement sent through me was something stronger than was consistent with joy,

Something that smote and stunned.

It was,

I think,

Almost fear.

You blushed and now you're white,

Jane.

What is that for?

Because you gave me a new name,

Jane Rochester,

And it seemed so strange.

Yes,

Mrs.

Rochester,

Said he.

Young Mrs.

Rochester,

Fairfax,

Rochester's girl bride.

It can never be,

Sir.

It does not sound likely.

Human beings never enjoy complete happiness in this world.

I was not born for a different destiny to the rest of my species.

To imagine such a lot befalling me is a fairy tale,

A daydream.

Which I can and I will realize,

Said he.

I shall begin today.

This morning I wrote to my banker in London to send me certain jewels he has in his keeping,

Heirlooms for the ladies of Thornfield.

In a day or two I hope to pour them into your lap,

For every privilege,

Every attention shall be yours,

That I would accord a peer's daughter if about to marry her.

Oh,

Sir.

Never mind jewels.

I don't like to hear them spoken of.

Jewels for Jane Eyre?

Sounds unnatural and strange.

I would rather not have them.

I will myself put the diamond chain around your neck and the circlet on your forehead,

Which it will become.

For nature,

At least,

Has stamped her patent of nobility on this brow,

And I will clasp the bracelets on these fine wrists and load these fairy-like fingers with rings.

No,

No,

Sir.

Think of other subjects and speak of other things,

And in another strain.

Don't address me as if I were a beauty.

I am your plain Quakerish governess.

You are a beauty in my eyes,

And a beauty just after the desire of my heart,

Delicate and aerial.

Puny and insignificant,

You mean.

You are dreaming,

Sir,

Or you are sneering.

For God's sake,

Don't be ironical.

I will make the world acknowledge you a beauty,

Too,

He went on,

While I really became uneasy at the strain he had adopted,

Because I felt he was either deluding himself or trying to delude me.

I will attire my Jane in satin and lace,

And she shall have roses in her hair,

And I will cover the head I love best with a priceless veil.

And then you won't know me,

Sir,

And I shall not be your Jane Eyre any longer,

But an ape in a harlequin's jacket,

A jay in borrowed plumes.

I would as soon see you,

Mr.

Rochester,

Tricked out in stage trappings as myself,

Clad in a court lady's robe.

And I don't call you handsome,

Sir,

Though I love you most dearly,

Far too dearly to flatter you.

Don't flatter me.

He pursued his theme,

However,

Without noticing my deprecation.

This very day I shall take you in the carriage to Millcote,

And you must choose some dresses for yourself.

I told you we shall be married in four weeks.

The wedding is to take place quietly in the church,

Down below yonder,

And then I shall waft you away at once to town.

After a brief stay there,

I shall bear my treasure to regions nearer the sun,

French vineyards and Italian plains,

And she shall see whatever is famous in old story and in modern record.

She shall taste too of the life,

Cities,

And she shall learn to value herself by just comparison with others.

Shall I travel?

And with you,

Sir?

You shall sojourn at Paris,

Rome,

And Naples,

At Florence,

Venice,

And Vienna.

All the ground I have wandered over shall be retrodden by you.

Wherever I stamped my hoof,

Your silk's foot shall step also.

Ten years since I flew through Europe half mad with disgust,

Hate,

And rage as my companions,

Now I shall revisit it healed and cleansed with a very angel as my comforter.

I laughed at him as he said this.

I am not an angel,

I asserted,

And I will not be the one till I die.

I will be myself,

Mr.

Rochester,

And you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of me,

For you will not get it any more than I shall get it of you,

Which I do not at all anticipate.

What do you anticipate of me?

For a little while you will perhaps be as you are now,

And then you will turn cool,

And you will be capricious,

And you will be stern,

And I shall have much ado to please you,

But when you get well used to me you'll perhaps like me again.

Like me,

I say,

Not love me.

I suppose your love will effervesce in six months or less.

I have observed in books written by men that period assigned as the farthest to which a husband's ardour extends,

Yet after all as a friend and companion I hope never to become quite distasteful to my dear master.

Distasteful?

And like you again?

I think I shall like you again and yet again,

And I will make you confess I do not only like,

But I love you with truth,

Fervour,

And constancy.

Yet are you not also capricious,

Sir?

To women who please me only by their faces I am the very devil when I find out they have neither souls nor hearts,

But to the clear eye and eloquent tongue,

To the soul made of fire and the character that bends but does not break,

I am ever tender and true.

Had you ever experience of such a character,

Sir?

Did you ever love such a one?

I love it now,

But before me,

If I indeed in any respect come up to that difficult standard.

I never met your likeness,

Jane.

You please me and you master me.

You seem to submit and I like the sense of pliancy you impart,

And while I am twining the soft silken skin round my finger it sends a thrill up my arm to my heart.

I am influenced,

Conquered,

And the influence is sweeter than I can express,

And the conquest I undergo has a witchery begone any triumph I can win.

Why do you smile,

Jane?

What does that inexplicable,

Uncanny turn of countenance mean?

I was thinking,

Sir,

I was thinking of Hercules and Samson with their charmers.

You were,

You little elfish.

Hush,

Sir,

You don't talk very wisely just now,

Any more than those gentlemen acted very wisely.

However,

Had they been married,

They would no doubt by their severity of husbands have made up for their softness as suitors,

And so will you,

I fear.

I wonder how you will answer me a year hence,

Should I ask a favour it does not suit your convenience or pleasure to grant.

Ask me something now,

Janet,

The least thing.

Indeed,

I will,

Sir.

I have my petition all ready.

Speak,

But if you look up at me with that countenance,

I shall swear concession before I know to what,

And that will make a fool of me.

Not at all,

Sir,

I ask only this.

Don't send for the jewels,

And don't crown me with roses.

You might as well put a border of gold lace around that plain pocket handkerchief you have there.

I might as well gild refined gold.

I know it,

Your request is granted them for the time,

But I will remand the order I dispatch to my banker.

But you have not yet asked for anything.

You have prayed a gift to be withdrawn.

Try again.

Well then,

Sir,

Have the goodness to gratify my curiosity,

Which is much piqued on one point.

He looked disturbed.

What?

He said hastily.

Curiosity is a dangerous petition.

It is well I have not taken a vow to accord every request.

But there can be no danger in complying with this,

Sir.

Utter it,

Jane,

But I wish that instead of a mere inquiry into perhaps a secret,

It was a wish for half my estate.

What do I want with half your estate?

I would much rather have your confidence.

You will not exclude me from your confidence if you admit me to your heart.

You are welcome to all my confidence that is worth having,

Jane,

But for God's sake don't desire a useless burden.

Don't long for poison.

Don't turn out a downright eve on my hands.

Why not,

Sir?

You've just been telling me how much you like to be conquered and how pleasant over-persuasion is to you.

Don't you think I'd better take advantage of the confession?

I dare you to any such experiment.

Encroach,

Presume,

And the game is up.

Is it,

Sir?

You soon give in.

How stern you look now.

Your eyebrows have become as thick as my finger,

And your forehead resembles,

I once saw styled,

A blue-piled thunderloft.

That will be your married look,

Sir,

I suppose.

If that will be your married look,

I,

As a Christian,

Will soon give up the notion of consorting with a mere sprite or salamander.

But what had you to ask?

Out with it.

There,

You are less than civil now,

And I'd like rudeness a great deal better than flattery.

I'd rather be a thing than an angel.

This is what I have to ask.

Why did you take such pains to make me believe you wished to marry Miss Ingram?

Is that all?

Thank God it were no worse.

Then he unknit his black brows,

Looked down,

Smiling at me,

And stroked my hair,

As if well-pleased at seeing a danger averted.