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- Шарлотта Бронте
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- Джэйн Эйр
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- Стр. 314/445
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Reader
,
it
is
not
pleasant
to
dwell
on
these
details
.
Some
say
there
is
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
the
physical
suffering
,
form
too
distressing
a
recollection
ever
to
be
willingly
dwelt
on
.
I
blamed
none
of
those
who
repulsed
me
.
I
felt
it
was
what
was
to
be
expected
,
and
what
could
not
be
helped
:
an
ordinary
beggar
is
frequently
an
object
of
suspicion
;
a
well-dressed
beggar
inevitably
so
.
To
be
sure
,
what
I
begged
was
employment
;
but
whose
business
was
it
to
provide
me
with
employment
?
Not
,
certainly
,
that
of
persons
who
saw
me
then
for
the
first
time
,
and
who
knew
nothing
about
my
character
.
And
as
to
the
woman
who
would
not
take
my
handkerchief
in
exchange
for
her
bread
,
why
,
she
was
right
,
if
the
offer
appeared
to
her
sinister
or
the
exchange
unprofitable
.
Let
me
condense
now
.
I
am
sick
of
the
subject
.
A
little
before
dark
I
passed
a
farm-house
,
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
imagine
he
did
not
think
I
was
a
beggar
,
but
only
an
eccentric
sort
of
lady
,
who
had
taken
a
fancy
to
his
brown
loaf
.
As
soon
as
I
was
out
of
sight
of
his
house
,
I
sat
down
and
ate
it
.
I
could
not
hope
to
get
a
lodging
under
a
roof
,
and
sought
it
in
the
wood
I
have
before
alluded
to
.
But
my
night
was
wretched
,
my
rest
broken
:
the
ground
was
damp
,
the
air
cold
:
besides
,
intruders
passed
near
me
more
than
once
,
and
I
had
again
and
again
to
change
my
quarters
;
no
sense
of
safety
or
tranquillity
befriended
me
.
Towards
morning
it
rained
;
the
whole
of
the
following
day
was
wet
.
Do
not
ask
me
,
reader
,
to
give
a
minute
account
of
that
day
;
as
before
,
I
sought
work
;
as
before
,
I
was
repulsed
;
as
before
,
I
starved
;
but
once
did
food
pass
my
lips
.
At
the
door
of
a
cottage
I
saw
a
little
girl
about
to
throw
a
mess
of
cold
porridge
into
a
pig
trough
.
"
Will
you
give
me
that
?
"
I
asked
.
She
stared
at
me
.
"
Mother
!
"
she
exclaimed
,
"
there
is
a
woman
wants
me
to
give
her
these
porridge
.
"
"
Well
lass
,
"
replied
a
voice
within
,
"
give
it
her
if
she
's
a
beggar
.
T
'
pig
does
n't
want
it
.
"
The
girl
emptied
the
stiffened
mould
into
my
hand
,
and
I
devoured
it
ravenously
.
As
the
wet
twilight
deepened
,
I
stopped
in
a
solitary
bridle-path
,
which
I
had
been
pursuing
an
hour
or
more
.
"
My
strength
is
quite
failing
me
,
"
I
said
in
a
soliloquy
.
"
I
feel
I
can
not
go
much
farther
.
