28 Cont. Jane Eyre Read By Stephanie Poppins

This is SD Hudson Magic Jane Eyre Chapter 28 Continued Which cross regained I followed a road Which led from the sun Now fervent and high There was a road Which led from the sun Now fervent and high There was a road Which led from the sun Now fervent and high There was a road Which led from the sun Now fervent and high But no other circumstance Had I will to decide my choice I walked a long time And when I thought I had nearly done enough And might conscientiously yield To the fatigue That almost overpowered me Might relax this forced action And sitting on a stone I saw near Submit resistedly to the apathy That clogged heart and limb I heard a bell chime A church bell I turned In the direction of the sound And there amongst the romantic hills Whose changes in aspect I had ceased to note an hour ago I saw a hamlet and a spire All the valley At my right hand Was full of pasture fields And cornfields and wood And a glittering stream Through the varied shades of green The mellowing grain The sombre woodland The clear and sunny lee Recalled by the rumbling of wheels To the road before me I saw a heavily laden wagon labouring up the hill And not far beyond Were two cows and their drover Human life And human labour were near I must struggle on Strive to live And bend to toil like the rest About two o'clock p.

M.

I entered the village At the bottom of its one street There was a little shop With some cakes of bread in the window I coveted a cake of bread With that refreshment I could perhaps regain a degree of energy Without it It would be difficult to proceed The wish to have some strength And vigour returned to me As soon as I was amongst My fellow beings I felt it would be degrading To faint with hunger On the causeway of a hamlet Had I nothing about me I could offer In exchange for one of these roles I considered I had a small silk handkerchief Tied round my throat I had my gloves I could hardly tell how men and women In extremities of destitution Proceeded I did not know whether either Of these articles would be accepted Probably they would not But I must try I entered the shop A woman was there Seeing a respectably Dressed person,

A lady She supposed,

Who came forward With civility How could she serve me?

I was seized With shame My tongue would not utter the request I had prepared I dared not offer her the half-worn gloves The creased handkerchief Besides I felt it would be absurd I only begged permission To sit down a moment as I was tired Disappointed in the expectation Of a customer She coolly acceded to my request She pointed to a seat I sank into it I felt sorely Urged to weep But conscious how unseasonable Such a manifestation would be I restrained it Soon I asked her If there were any dressmaker Or plain work women In the village Yes,

Two or three She said,

Quite as many As there was employment for I reflected I was driven to the point now I was brought face to face With necessity I stood in the position of one Without a resource Without a friend,

Without a coin I must do something What?

I must apply somewhere Where?

Did she know of any place In the neighbourhood Where a servant was wanted?

Nay,

She couldn't say What was the chief trade In this place?

What did most of the people do?

Some were farm neighbours A good deal worked At Mr Oliver's needle factory And at the foundry Did Mr Oliver employ women?

Nay,

It was men's work What do the women do?

I knocked Was the answer Some does one thing And then some another Poor folkmen get on as they can She seemed to be tired of my questions And,

Indeed,

What claim Had I to importune her?

A neighbour or two came in My chair was evidently wanted I took leave I passed up the street Looking as I went in all the houses To the right hand and to the left But I could discover No pretext nor see an inducement To enter any I rambled round the hamlet Going sometimes to a little distance And returning again For an hour or more Much exhausted and suffering greatly Now for want of food I turned aside into a lane And sat down under a hedge Ere many minutes had passed I was again on my feet And again searching Something,

A resource Or at least an informant A pretty little house stood At the top of the lane With a garden before it Exquisitely neat and brilliantly blooming I stopped at it What business had I To approach the white door Or touch the glittering knocker In what way could it possibly be The interest of the inhabitants Of that dwelling to serve me Yet I drew near and knocked A mild looking,

Cleanly attired Young woman opened the door In such a voice as might be Expected from a hopeless heart And fainting frame A voice wretchedly low and faltering I asked if a servant was Wanted here No Said she,

You do not keep a servant Can you tell me where I could get Employment of any kind I continued I am not an acquaintance in this place I want some work no matter what But it was not her business To think for me or to seek a place for me Besides in her eyes How doubtful must have appeared My character,

Position and tale She shook her head Said she was sorry She could give me no information And the white door closed Quite gently and civilly But it shut me out If she had held it open a little longer I believe I should have begged A piece of bread For I was now brought low I could not bear To return to the sordid village Where besides no prospect of aid Was visible I should have longed rather to deviate To a wood I saw far off Which appeared in its thick shade To offer inviting shelter But I was so sick So weak,

So gnawed By the village's cravings Instinct kept me roaming around Through abodes where there was A chance of food Solitude would be no solitude Rest,

No rest While the vulture,

Hunger Thus sank beak and talons In my side I drew near houses I left them and came back again And again I wandered away Bewildered by the consciousness Of having no claim to ask No right to expect interest In my isolated lot Meantime The afternoon advanced While I thus wandered about Like a lost and starving dog In crossing a field I saw the church spire before me I hastened towards it Near the churchyard And in the middle of a garden It stood a well-built though small house Which I had no doubt Was the parsonage I remembered that Strangers who arrive at a place Where they have no friends And who want employment Sometimes apply to the clergyman For introduction and aid It is the clergyman's Function to help,

At least With advice,

Those who wish To help themselves I seemed to have Something like a right to seek Counsel here Renewing then my courage And gathering my feeble remains of strength I pushed on I reached the house and knocked at the kitchen door An old woman answered I asked,

Was this the parsonage?

Yes Was the clergyman in?

No Would he be in soon?

No,

He was gone from home To a distance?

Not too far Half and three mile He'd been called away By the sudden death of his father He was at Marsh End now And would very likely stay there a fortnight longer Was there any lady of the house?

Nay,

There was naught but her And she was a housekeeper I could not bear to ask The relief or want of which I was sinking I could not yet beg And again I crawled away Once more I took off my handkerchief Once more I thought of the cakes of bread In the little shop All but for a crust For one mouthful To allay the pang of famine Instinctively I turned my face again To the village I found the shop again and I went in And though others were there besides the woman I ventured the request Would she give me a roll for this handkerchief?

She looked at me with evident suspicion Nay,

She never sold stuff that way She said Almost desperate I asked for half a cake She again refused How could she tell where I had got the handkerchief?

She said Would she take my gloves?

No,

What could she do with them?

Reader,

It is not pleasant to dwell on these details Some say there's enjoyment In looking back to painful experience past But at this day I can scarcely bear to review The times to which I allude The moral degradation Blent with a physical suffering Formed too distressing A recollection ever to be Willingly dwelt upon A little before dark I passed A farmhouse at the open door Of which the farmer was sitting Eating his supper of bread and cheese I stopped and said Will you give me a piece of bread?

For I am very hungry He cast on me a glance of surprise But without answering he cut a thick slice From his loaf and gave it to me I imagined he did not think I was a beggar But only an eccentric sort of lady Who'd taken a fancy to his brown loaf As soon as I was out of sight of his house I sat down And I ate it