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　knew　not　what　room　upstairs。　She　was　not；　I　was　told；　in　the　hospital　portion　of　the　house　with　the　fever　patients；　for　her　plaint　was　consumption；　not　typhus：　and　by　consumption　I；　in　my　ignorance；　understood　something　mild；　which　time　and　care　would　be　sure　to　alleviate。
I　was　confirmed　in　this　idea　by　the　fact　of　her　once　or　twice　ing　downstairs　on　very　warm　sunny　afternoons；　and　being　taken　by　Miss　Temple　into　the　garden；　but；　on　these　occasions；　I　was　not　allowed　to　go　and　speak　to　her；　I　only　saw　her　from　the　schoolroom　window；　and　then　not　distinctly；　for　she　was　much　wrapped　up；　and　sat　at　a　distance　under　the　verandah。
One　evening；　in　the　beginning　of　June；　I　had　stayed　out　very　late　with　Mary　Ann　in　the　wood；　we　had；　as　usual；　separated　ourselves　from　the　others；　and　had　wandered　far；　so　far　that　we　lost　our　way；　and　had　to　ask　it　at　a　lonely　cottage；　where　a　man　and　woman　lived；　who　looked　after　a　herd　of　half…wild　swine　that　fed　on　the　mast　in　the　wood。　When　we　got　back；　it　was　after　moonrise：　a　pony；　which　we　knew　to　be　the　surgeon’s；　was　standing　at　the　garden　door。　Mary　Ann　remarked　that　she　supposed　some　one　must　be　very　ill；　as　Mr。　Bates　had　been　sent　for　at　that　time　of　the　evening。　She　went　into　the　house；　I　stayed　behind　a　few　minutes　to　plant　in　my　garden　a　handful　of　roots　I　had　dug　up　in　the　forest；　and　which　I　feared　would　wither　if　I　left　them　till　the　morning。　This　done；　I　lingered　yet　a　little　longer：　the　flowers　smelt　so　sweet　as　the　dew　fell；　it　was　such　a　pleasant　evening；　so　serene；　so　warm；　the　still　glowing　west　promised　so　fairly　another　fine　day　on　the　morrow；　the　moon　rose　with　such　majesty　in　the　grave　east。　I　was　noting　these　things　and　enjoying　them　as　a　child　might；　when　it　entered　my　mind　as　it　had　never　done　before：—
“How　sad　to　be　lying　now　on　a　sick　bed；　and　to　be　in　danger　of　dying！　This　world　is　pleasant—it　would　be　dreary　to　be　called　from　it；　and　to　have　to　go　who　knows　where？”
And　then　my　mind　made　its　first　earnest　effort　to　prehend　what　had　been　infused　into　it　concerning　heaven　and　hell；　and　for　the　first　time　it　recoiled；　baffled；　and　for　the　first　time　glancing　behind；　on　each　side；　and　before　it；　it　saw　all　round　an　unfathomed　gulf：　it　felt　the　one　point　where　it　stood—the　present；　all　the　rest　was　formless　cloud　and　vacant　depth；　and　it　shuddered　at　the　thought　of　tottering；　and　plunging　amid　that　chaos。　While　pondering　this　new　idea；　I　heard　the　front　door　open；　Mr。　Bates　came　out；　and　with　him　was　a　nurse。　After　she　had　seen　him　mount　his　horse　and　depart；　she　was　about　to　close　the　door；　but　I　ran　up　to　her。
“How　is　Helen　Burns？”
“Very　poorly；”　was　the　answer。
“Is　it　her　Mr。　Bates　has　been　to　see？”
“Yes。”
“And　what　does　he　say　about　her？”
“He　says　she’ll　not　be　here　long。”
This　phrase；　uttered　in　my　hearing　yesterday；　would　have　only　conveyed　the　notion　that　she　was　about　to　be　removed　to　Northumberland；　to　her　own　home。　I　should　not　have　suspected　that　it　meant　she　was　dying；　but　I　knew　instantly　now！　It　opened　clear　on　my　prehension　that　Helen　Burns　was　numbering　her　last　days　in　this　world；　and　that　she　was　going　to　be　taken　to　the　region　of　spirits；　if　such　region　there　were。　I　experienced　a　shock　of　horror；　then　a　strong　thrill　of　grief；　then　a　desire—a　necessity　to　see　her；　and　I　asked　in　what　room　she　lay。
“She　is　in　Miss　Temple’s　room；”　said　the　nurse。
“May　I　go　up　and　speak　to　her？”
“Oh　no；　child！　It　is　not　likely；　and　now　it　is　time　for　you　to　e　in；　you’ll　catch　the　fever　if　you　stop　out　when　the　dew　is　falling。”
The　nurse　closed　the　front　door；　I　went　in　by　the　side　entrance　which　led　to　the　schoolroom：　I　was　just　in　time；　it　was　nine　o’clock；　and　Miss　Miller　was　calling　the　pupils　to　go　to　bed。
It　might　be　two　hours　later；　probably　near　eleven；　when　I—not　having　been　able　to　fall　asleep；　and　deeming；　from　the　perfect　silence　of　the　dormitory；　that　my　panions　were　all　wrapt　in　profound　repose—rose　softly；　put　on　my　frock　over　my　night…dress；　and；　without　shoes；　crept　from　the　apartment；　and　set　off　in　quest　of　Miss　Temple’s　room。　It　was　quite　at　the　other　end　of　the　house；　but　I　knew　my　way；　and　the　light　of　the　unclouded　summer　moon；　entering　here　and　there　at　passage　windows；　enabled　me　to　find　it　without　difficulty。　An　odour　of　camphor　and　burnt　vinegar　warned　me　when　I　came　near　the　fever　room：　and　I　passed　its　door　quickly；　fearful　lest　the　nurse　who　sat　up　all　night　should　hear　me。　I　dreaded　being　discovered　and　sent　back；　for　I　must　see　Helen；—I　must　embrace　her　before　she　died；—I　must　give　her　one　last　kiss；　exchange　with　her　one　last　word。
Having　descended　a　staircase；　traversed　a　portion　of　the　house　below；　and　succeeded　in　opening　and　shutting；　without　noise；　two　doors；　I　reached　another　flight　of　steps；　these　I　mounted；　and　then　just　opposite　to　me　was　Miss　Temple’s　room。　A　light　shone　through　the　keyhole　and　from　under　the　door；　a　profound　stillness　pervaded　the　vicinity。　ing　near；　I　found　the　door　slightly　ajar；　probably　to　admit　some　fresh　air　into　the　close　abode　of　sickness。　Indisposed　to　hesitate；　and　full　of　impatient　impulses—soul　and　senses　quivering　with　keen　throes—I　put　it　back　and　looked　in。　My　eye　sought　Helen；　and　feared　to　find　death。
Close　by　Miss　Temple’s　bed；　and　half　covered　with　its　white　curtains；　there　stood　a　little　crib。　I　saw　the　outline　of　a　form　under　the　clothes；　but　the　face　was　hid　by　the　hangings：　the　nurse　I　had　spoken　to　in　the　garden　sat　in　an　easy…chair　asleep；　an　unsnuffed　candle　burnt　dimly　on　the　table。　Miss　Temple　was　not　to　be　seen：　I　knew　afterwards　that　she　had　been　called　to　a　delirious　patient　in　the　fever…room。　I　advanced；　then　paused　by　the　crib　side：　my　hand　was　on　the　curtain；　but　I　preferred　speaking　before　I　withdrew　it。　I　still　recoiled　at　the　dread　of　seeing　a　corpse。
“Helen！”　I　whispered　softly；　“are　you　awake？”
She　stirred　herself；　put　back　the　curtain；　and　I　saw　her　face；　pale；　posed：　she　looked　so　little　changed　that　my　fear　was　instantly　dissipated。
“Can　it　be　you；　Jane？”　she　asked；　in　her　own　gentle　voice。
“Oh！”　I　thought；　“she　is　not　going　to　die；　they　are　mistaken：　she　could　not　speak　and　look　so　calmly　if　she　were。”
I　got　on　to　her　crib　and　kissed　her：　her　forehead　was　cold；　and　her　cheek　both　cold　and　thin；　and　so　were　her　hand　and　wrist；　but　she　smiled　as　of　old。
“Why　are　you　e　here；　Jane？　It　is　past　eleven　o’clock：　I　heard　it　strike　some　minutes　since。”
“I　came　to　see　you；　Helen：　I　heard　you　were　very　ill；　and　I　could　not　sleep　till　I　had　spoken　to　you。”
“You　came　to　bid　me　good…bye；　then：　you　are　just　in　time　probably。”
“Are　you　going　somewhere；　Helen？　Are　you　going　home？”
“Yes；　to　my　long　home—my　last　home。”
“No；　no；　Helen！”　I　stopped；　distressed。　While　I　tried　to　devour　my　tears；　a　fit　of　coughing　seized　Helen；　it　did　not；　however；　wake　the　nurse；　when　it　was　over；　she　lay　some　minutes　exhausted；　then　she　whispered—
“Jane；　your　little　feet　are　bare；　lie　down　and　cover　yourself　with　my　quilt。”
I　did　so：　she　put　her　arm　over　me；　and　I　nestled　close　to　her。　After　a　long　silence；　she　resumed；　still　whispering—
“I　am　very　happy；　Jane；　and　when　you　hear　that　I　am　dead；　you　must　be　sure　and　not　grieve：　there　is　nothing　to　grieve　about。　We　all　must　die　one　day；　and　the　illness　which　is　removing　me　is　not　painful；　it　is　gentle　and　gradual：　my　mind　is　at　rest。　I　leave　no　one　to　regret　me　much：　I　have　only　a　father；　and　he　is　lately　married；　and　will　not　miss　me。　By　dying　young；　I　shall　escape　great　sufferings。　I　had　not　qualities　or　talents　to　make　my　way　very　well　in　the　world：　I　should　have　been　continually　at　fault。”
“But　where　are　you　going　to；　Helen？　Can　you　see？　Do　you　know？”
“I　believe；　I　have　faith：　I　am　going　to　God。”
“Where　is　God？　What　is　God？”
“My　Maker　and　yours；　who　will　never　destroy　what　He　created。　I　rely　implicitly　on　His　power；　and　confide　wholly　in　His　goodness：　I　count　the　hours　till　that　eventful　one　arrives　which　shall　restore　me　to　Him；　reveal　Him　to　me。”
“You　are　sure；　then；　Helen；　that　there　is　such　a　place　as　heaven；　and　that　our　souls　can　get　to　it　when　we　die？”
“I　am　sure　there　is　a　future　state；　I　believe　God　is　good；　I　can　resign　my　immortal　part　to　Him　without　any　misgiving。　God　is　my　father；　God　is　my　friend：　I　love　Him；　I　believe　He　loves　me。”
“And　shall　I　see　you　again；　Helen；　when　I　die？”
“You　will　e　to　the　same　region　of　happiness：　be　received　by　the　same　mighty；　universal　Parent；　no　doubt；　dear　Jane。”
Again　I　questioned；　but　this　time　only　in　thought。　“Where　is　that　region？　Does　it　exist？”　And　I　clasped　my　arms　closer　round　Helen；　she　seemed　dearer　to　me　than　ever；　I　felt　as　if　I　could　not　let　her　go；　I　lay　with　my　face　hidden　on　her　neck。　Presently　she　said；　in　the　sweetest　tone—
“How　fortable　I　am！　That　last　fit　of　coughing　has　tired　me　a　little；　I　feel　as　if　I　could　sleep：　but　don’t　leave　me；　Jane；　I　like　to　have　you　near　me。”
“I’ll　stay　with　you；　dear　Helen：　no　one　shall　take　me　way。”
“Are　you　warm；　darling？”
“Yes。”
“Good…night；　Jane。”
“Good…night；　Helen。”
She　kissed　me；　and　I　her；　and　we　both　soon　slumbered。
When　I　awoke　it　was　day：　an　unusual　movement　roused　me；　I　looked　up；　I　was　in　somebody’s　arms；　the　nurse　held　me；　she　was　carrying　me　through　the　passage　back　to　the　dormitory。　I　was　not　reprimanded　for　leaving　my　bed；　people　had　something　else　to　think　about；　no　explanation　was　afforded　then　to　my　many　questions；　but　a　day　or　two　afterwards　I　learned　that　Miss　Temple；　on　returning　to　her　own　room　at　dawn；　had　found　me　laid　in　the　little　crib；　my　face　against　Helen　Burns’s　shoulder；　my　arms　round　her　neck。　I　was　asleep；　and　Helen　was—dead。
Her　grave　is　in　Brocklebridge　churchyard：　for　fifteen　years　after　her　death　it　was　only　covered　by　a　grassy　mound；　but　now　a　grey　marble　tablet　marks　the　spot；　inscribed　with　her　name；　and　the　word　“Resurgam。”
Chapter　10
Hitherto　I　have　recorded　in　detail　the　events　of　my　insignificant　existence：　to　the　first　ten　years　of　my　life　I　have　given　almost　as　many　chapters。　But　this　is　not　to　be　a　regular　autobiography。　I　am　only　bound　to　invoke　Memory　where　I　know　her　responses　will　possess　some　degree　of　interest；　therefore　I　now　pass　a　space　of　eight　years　almost　in　silence：　a　few　lines　only　are　necessary　to　keep　up　the　links　of　connection。
When　the　typhus　fever　had　fulfilled　its　mission　of　devastation　at　Lowood；　it　gradually　disappeared　from　thence；　but　not　till　its　virulence　and　the　number　of　its　victims　had　drawn　public　attention　on　the　school。　Inquiry　was　made　into　the　origin　of　the　scourge；　and　by　degrees　various　facts　came　out　which　excited　public　indignation　in　a　high　degree。　The　unhealthy　nature　of　the　site；　the　quantity　and　quality　of　the　children’s　food；　the　brackish；　fetid　water　used　in　its　preparation；　the　pupils’　wretched　clothing　and　acmodations—all　these　things　were　discovered；　and　the　discovery　produced　a　result　mortifying　to　Mr。　Brocklehurst；　but　beneficial　to　the　institution。
Several　wealthy　and　benevolent　individuals　in　the　county　subscribed　largely　for　the　erection　of　a　more　convenient　building　in　a　better　situation；　new　regulations　were　made；　improvements　in　diet　and　clothing　introduced；　the　funds　of　the　school　were　intrusted　to　the　management　of　a　mittee。　Mr。　Brocklehurst；　who；　from　his　wealth　and　family　connections；　could　not　be　overlooked；　still　retained　the　post　of　treasurer；　but　he　was　aided　in　the　discharge　of　his　duties　by　gentlemen　of　rather　more　enlarged　and　sympathising　minds：　his　office　of　inspector；　too；　was　shared　by　those　who　knew　how　to　bine　reason　with　strictness；　fort　with　economy；　passion　with　uprightness。　The　school；　thus　improved；　became　in　time　a　truly　useful　and　noble　institution。　I　remained　an　inmate　of　its　walls；　after　its　regeneration；　for　eight　years：　six　as　pupil；　and　two　as　teacher；　and　in　both　capacities　I　bear　my　testimony　to　its　value　and　importance。
During　these　eight　years　my　life　was　uniform：　but　not　unhappy；　because　it　was　not　inactive。　I　had　the　means　of　an　excellent　education　placed　within　my　reach；　a　fondness　for　some　of　my　studies；　and　a　desire　to　excel　in　all；　together　with　a　great　delight　in　pleasing　my　teachers；　especially　such　as　I　loved；　urged　me　on：　I　availed　myself　fully　of　the　advantages　offered　me。　In　time