第11部分(第2/7 页)

！　you　have　never　cleaned　your　nails　this　morning！”

Burns　made　no　answer：　I　wondered　at　her　silence。　“Why；”　thought　I；　“does　she　not　explain　that　she　could　neither　clean　her　nails　nor　wash　her　face；　as　the　water　was　frozen？”

My　attention　was　now　called　off　by　Miss　Smith　desiring　me　to　hold　a　skein　of　thread：　while　she　was　winding　it；　she　talked　to　me　from　time　to　time；　asking　whether　I　had　ever　been　at　school　before；　whether　I　could　mark；　stitch；　knit；　&c。；　till　she　dismissed　me；　I　could　not　pursue　my　observations　on　Miss　Scatcherd’s　movements。　When　I　returned　to　my　seat；　that　lady　was　just　delivering　an　order　of　which　I　did　not　catch　the　import；　but　Burns　immediately　left　the　class；　and　going　into　the　small　inner　room　where　the　books　were　kept；　returned　in　half　a　minute；　carrying　in　her　hand　a　bundle　of　twigs　tied　together　at　one　end。　This　ominous　tool　she　presented　to　Miss　Scatcherd　with　a　respectful　curtesy；　then　she　quietly；　and　without　being　told；　unloosed　her　pinafore；　and　the　teacher　instantly　and　sharply　inflicted　on　her　neck　a　dozen　strokes　with　the　bunch　of　twigs。　Not　a　tear　rose　to　Burns’　eye；　and；　while　I　paused　from　my　sewing；　because　my　fingers　quivered　at　this　spectacle　with　a　sentiment　of　unavailing　and　impotent　anger；　not　a　feature　of　her　pensive　face　altered　its　ordinary　expression。

“Hardened　girl！”　exclaimed　Miss　Scatcherd；　“nothing　can　correct　you　of　your　slatternly　habits：　carry　the　rod　away。”

Burns　obeyed：　I　looked　at　her　narrowly　as　she　emerged　from　the　book…closet；　she　was　just　putting　back　her　handkerchief　into　her　pocket；　and　the　trace　of　a　tear　glistened　on　her　thin　cheek。

The　play…hour　in　the　evening　I　thought　the　pleasantest　fraction　of　the　day　at　Lowood：　the　bit　of　bread；　the　draught　of　coffee　swallowed　at