“She never did SO before，”at last said Bessie，turning to the Abig．
“But it was always in her，”was the reply．“I’ve told Missis oftenmy opinion about the child，and Missis agreed with me．She’S an under—hand little thing：I never saw a girl of her age with SO much cover．’’Bessie answered not；but ere long，addressing me，she said：“Youought to be aware，Miss，that you are under obligations to Mrs．Reed：shekeeps you：if she were to turn you off，you would have to go to the poor—house．’’
I had nothing to say to these words：they were not new to me；myvery first recollections of existence included hints of the same kind．This reproach of my dependence had become a vague sing——song inmy ear：very painful and crushing，but only half intelligible．Miss Abbotjoined in．“And you ought not to think yourself on an equality with the MissReed and Master Reed，because Missis kindly allows you to be broughtup with them．They will have a great deal of money，and you will havenone：it is your place to be humble，and to try to make yourself agreeableto them．”“What we tell you is for your good。”added Bessie，in no harshvoice；“you should try to be useful and pleasant，then，perhaps，you would have a home here；but if you become passionate and rude，Missis willsend you away，I am sure．’’
“Besides．”said Miss Abbot，“God will punish her：He might strike her dead in the midst of her tantrums，and then where would she go?Come．Bessie．we will leave her：1 wouldn’t have her heart for anything．Say your prayers，Miss Eyre，when you are by yourself；for if you don’t repent，something bad might be permitted to come down the chimney and fetch you away．’’
They went，shutting the door，and locking it behind them．The red—room was a square chamber，very seldom slept in，I might say never，in—deed，unless when a chance influx of visitors at Gateshead Hall rendered it necessary to turn to account all the accommodation it contained：yet it was one of the largest and stateliest chambers in the mansion．A bed sup—ported on massive pillars of mahogany，hung with curtains of deep red damask，stood out like a tabernacle in the centre；the two large windows，with their blinds always drawn down，were half shrouded in festoons and falls of similar drapery；the carpet was red；the table at the foot of the bed was covered with a crimson cloth；the walls were a soft fawn colour with a blush of pink in it；the wardrobe，the toilet—table，the chairs were of darkly polished old mahogany．Out of these deep surrounding shades rose high，and glared white，the piled—up mattresses and pillows of the bed，spread with a snowy Marseilles counterpane．Scarcely less prominent was an ample cushioned easy—chair near the head of the bed，also white，with a footstool before it；and looking，as I thought，like a pale throne．
This room was chill，because it seldom had a fire；it was silent．be—cause remote from the nursery and kitchen；solemn，because it was known to be SO seldom entered．The housemaid alone came here on Saturdays，to wipe from the mirrors and the fumiture a week’S quiet dust：and Mrs．Reed herself，at far intervals，visited it to review the contents of a certain secret drawer in the wardrobe，where were stored divers parchments，her jewel—casket，and a miniature of her deceased husband：and in those last words lies the secret of the red—room the spell which kept it SO lonely inspite of its grandeur．
Mr．Reed had been dead nine years：it was in this chamber hebreathed his last；here he lay in state；hence his coffin was borne by theundertaker’S men；and，since that day，a sense of dreary consecration hadguarded it from frequent intrusion．
Mv seat．tO which Bessie and the bitter Miss Abbot had left me rive—ted．was a low ottoman near the marble chimney—piece；the bed rose be—fore me；to my right hand there was the high，dark wardrobe，with sub—dued，broken reflections varying the gloss of its panels；to my left werethe muffled windows；a great looking—glass between them repeated thevacant majesty of the bed and room．1 was not quite sure whether theyhad locked the door：and when I dared move，I got up and went to see．A。1as!yes：no jall was ever more secure．Returning，I had tO cross beforethe looking——glass；my fascinated glance involuntarily explored the depthit revealed．All looked colder and darker in that visionary hollow than inreality：and the strange little figure there gazing at me，with a white face and arnls specking the gloom，and glittering eyes of fear moving where allelse was still．had the effect of a real spirit：I thought it like one of the ti—ny phantoms，half fairy，half imp，Bessie’s evening stories represented ascoming out oflone。ferny dells in moors，and appearing before the eyes ofbelated travellers．I returned to my st001．
Superstition was with me at that moment；but it was not yet her hourfor complete victory：my blood was still warm；the mood of the revolted slave was still bracing me with its bitter vigour；I had to stem a rapid rush of retrospective thought before I quailed to the dismal present·
All John Reed’S violent tyrannies，all his sisters’proud indiffer-all his mother’s aversion，all the servants’partiality．turned up inmy disturbed mind like a dark deposit in a turbid well．
Why was I always suffering，always browbeaten，always accused．forever condemned?Why could I never please?Why was it useless to tryto win any one’S favour?Eliza，who，was headstrong and selfish．was re—spected．Georgiana，who had a spoiled temper，a very acrid spite．a cap-tious and insolent carriage，was universally indulged．Her beautyher pinkcheeks and golden curls，seemed to give delight to a11 who，looked at her．and to purchase indemnity for every fault．