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ng down at my face。 “Have you cried your grief away?”
“I am afraid I never shall do that。”
“Why?”
“Because I have been wrongly accused; and you; ma’am; and everybody else; will now think me wicked。”
“We shall think you what you prove yourself to be; my child。 Continue to act as a good girl; and you will satisfy us。”
“Shall I; Miss Temple?”
“You will;” said she; passing her arm round me。 “And now tell me who is the lady whom Mr。 Brocklehurst called your benefactress?”
“Mrs。 Reed; my uncle’s wife。 My uncle is dead; and he left me to her care。”
“Did she not; then; adopt you of her own accord?”
“No; ma’am; she was sorry to have to do it: but my uncle; as I have often heard the servants say; got her to promise before he died that she would always keep me。”
“Well now; Jane; you know; or at least I will tell you; that when a criminal is accused; he is always allowed to speak in his own defence。 You have been charged with falsehood; defend yourself to me as well as you can。 Say whatever your memory suggests is true; but add nothing and exaggerate nothing。”
I resolved; in the depth of my heart; that I would be most moderate—most correct; and; having reflected a few minutes in order to arrange coherently what I had to say; I told her all the story of my sad childhood。 Exhausted by emotion; my language was more subdued than it generally was when it developed that sad theme; and mindful of Helen’s warnings against the indulgence of resentment; I infused into the narrative far less of gall and wormwood than ordinary。 Thus restrained and simplified; it sounded more credible: I felt as I went on that Miss Temple fully believed me。
In the course of the tale I had mentioned Mr。 Lloyd as having e to see m
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