I cannot begin to describe my pain and embarrassment at being forced to stand on that stool. Just as I thought I couldn't endure another moment, a girl passed me and looked up kindly. After that, I managed to overcome my rising hysteria and stand up straight.
Helen also passed by and gave me an encouraging smile. Scarcely an hour before, I'd heard Miss Scatcherd condemn her to a meal of bread and water for sloppily copying an exercise. Now she wore a badge on her arm that said "Untidy."
Before the half hour ended, classes were dismissed, and everyone went to the dining hall for tea. It was dusk when I descended from the stool. The spell that had allowed me to repress my feelings began to dissolve. Overwhelmed by grief, I lay on the floor and wept.
I had meant to be so good and to do so much at Lowood: to make many friends, to earn respect, and to win affection. That very morning Miss Temple had promised to teach me drawing and to let me learn French if I continued to improve. I was well liked by my fellow students. Now I was crushed.
I heard someone approaching; I looked up and saw Helen.
"Come, eat something," she said, offering me coffee and bread.
But I pushed everything away. Regarding me with surprise, Helen sat next to me on the floor.
"Helen, why do you stay with a girl whom everybody believes to be a liar?" I asked.
"There are only eighty people who have heard you called so, Jane, and the world contains millions of people."
"Who cares about millions?" I asked inconsolably. "The eighty girls here now despise me."
"Probably no one here despises or dislikes you. I'm sure many pity you."
"How can they pity me after what Mr. Brocklehurst said?"
"Oh, no one likes Mr. Brocklehurst!" Helen reached for my hand. "Teachers and students may look coldly on you for a day or two, but they'll be friendly again."
Helen had calmed me, but I still felt sad. I rested my head on her shoulder. We had not been sitting long like that when Miss Temple entered the room.
"I came to find you, Jane," said Miss Temple. "I want you to go to my room, and Helen may go too."
In her cheerful apartment, Miss Temple directed Helen to sit in an armchair next to the fire while she took another chair and called me to her side.
"Have you cried your grief away?" Miss Temple asked me.
"I'm afraid I'll never do that."
"Why?"
"Because I've been wrongly accused, and everyone now thinks me wicked."
Miss Temple patted my shoulder. "Continue to act as a good girl, and you'll satisfy me. Now defend yourself to me without exaggerating anything."
And so I told her the story of my sad childhood. In the course of the tale, I happened to mention Mr. Lloyd, the apothecary. Miss Temple vowed to write to him, and if he agreed with my story, then she would clear me of lying.
"To me, Jane, you are clear now," she said, and then she asked after Helen's cough. "And the pain in your chest?"
"A little better," responded Helen.
Miss Temple got up and felt Helen's pulse. Returning to her seat, she sighed.
She rang for a servant to bring tea and toast. How fragrant was the scent of that toast! But there didn't seem to be enough for three.
"Barbara," Miss Temple said to the servant, "can you bring us some more toast?"
Barbara went out and soon returned with the message that the housekeeper had sent up the usual amount.
"We'll have to make do then," said Miss Temple. But when Barbara had left, she smiled. "For once I have it in my power to make up for a lack of food."
She went to a drawer and pulled out a parcel wrapped in paper. Inside was a seedcake! After we'd had tea and cake, she sent us on our way with a tender embrace.
"God bless you, my children!"
When we arrived in our bedroom, Miss Scatcherd was examining drawers. "Your things are in shameful disorder!" she said to Helen.
"I know," replied Helen. "I intended to arrange them, but I forgot."
The next morning Miss Scatcherd wrote the word "Slob" in large letters on a piece of cardboard. Then she tied the sign to Helen's head. My friend, ever patient, wore it until evening. But the moment Miss Scatcherd was finished teaching for the day, I threw the sign in the fire.
A week later a letter arrived from Mr. Lloyd, and Miss Temple assembled the whole school to say that I'd been cleared of lying. I was allowed to begin drawing and French lessons, and I now preferred Lowood with all its deprivations to Gateshead and its luxuries.
Spring came to the school, and the grounds grew green and flowery. But with spring came an outbreak of typhus. Forty-five girls lay sick at one time. Many went home to die. There were no classes and few rules for those of us who stayed healthy.
I had not seen Helen for a long time because she was ill with another disease, tuberculosis. One evening in June, I stayed outdoors, wandering the grounds. We'd heard rumors that someone was very ill and that the doctor had been sent for. As I was coming in, a nurse opened the door for the doctor, who was just leaving.
"How's Helen?" I asked the nurse.
"Very poorly. The doctor says she has not long to live."
Horror rippled through me! "Where is she?" I asked the nurse.
"In Miss Temple's room, but no one is allowed to see her. Come in. It's time for everyone to be in bed."
I went to bed but was much too full of worry and grief to sleep. Around eleven o'clock I crept up to Miss Temple's room and found Helen in bed.
"Helen, are you awake?" I whispered. She was pale, but otherwise seemed so unchanged that I couldn't believe she was going to die.
Helen opened her eyes. "Can it be you, Jane? Why are you here?"
"I heard you were very ill, and I had to speak to you."
"So you came to bid me good-bye."
"No, Helen!"
As I tried to hide my tears, a coughing fit seized my dear friend. We talked quietly, and then I sat with her, holding her hand until she fell asleep.
The next morning I learned that Helen had died.