Jane Slayre by Sherri Browning Erwin Read Free Book Online Page B

work inactive. Her eye of ice continued to dwell on mine. "What more have you to say?"
    "I am glad you are no true relation of mine. I will never call you aunt again as long as I live. I will never come to see you when I am grown-up, and if anyone asks me how I liked you, and how you treated me, I will say the very thought of you makes me sick, and that you treated me with miserable cruelty."
    "How dare you affirm that, Jane Slayre?"
    "How dare I, Mrs. Reed? How dare I? Because it is the truth. You have no soul, no feelings, so how can you guess what I endure because of you? I have done long enough without one bit of love or kindness. To my dying day, I shall remember how you thrust me into the red room and locked me up there, bleeding and in agony over a punishment you made me suffer because your wicked boy struck me and bit my neck to drink my blood. My common blood! I will tell anybody who asks me questions this exact tale. People think you a good woman, but you are bad, monstrous, a murderess! Above all, you are deceitful!" And now, my climactic revelation, I pulled the stake out of my skirts. I didn't go anywhere without one anymore. "And if you should let your child near to attack me again, I'll run him through! Right through the heart. Phut!"
    39
    I stabbed the air in front of Mrs. Reed's face, making her eyes widen with shock, or perhaps fright?
    Ere I had finished this demonstration, my soul began to expand, to exult, with the strangest sense of freedom, of triumph, I ever felt. It seemed as if an invisible bond had burst, and that I had struggled out into unhoped-for liberty. Mrs. Reed trembled. Her work had slipped from her knee; she was lifting up her hands, rocking herself to and fro, even twisting her face as if she would cry.
    "Jane, put that away! What is the matter with you? You are suffering under a mistaken notion, surely. We do not act as monsters, but for our own survival. You're having delusions, perhaps? Would you like to drink some water?"
    "No, Mrs. Reed."
    "Is there anything else you wish for, Jane? I assure you, I desire to be your friend."
    "Friend? When you told Mr. Bokorhurst I had a bad character, a deceitful disposition? I'll let everybody at Lowood know what you are, and what you have done."
    "You mean with your punishments, surely? Jane, you don't understand these things. Children must be corrected for their faults."
    "Deceit is not my fault!" I cried out in a savage, high voice.
    "But you are passionate, Jane, that you must allow. Now return to the nursery--there's a dear--and lie down a little."
    "I am not your dear. I cannot lie down. Send me to school soon, Mrs. Reed, for I hate to live here."
    "I will indeed send her to school soon," murmured Mrs. Reed; and gathering up her work, she abruptly quitted the apartment.
    I was left there alone, winner of the field. It was the hardest battle I had fought, and the first victory I had gained. I stood awhile on the rug, where Mr. Bokorhurst had stood, and I enjoyed my conqueror's solitude. First, I smiled to myself and felt elated, but this fierce pleasure subsided in me as fast as did the accelerated throb of my pulse. I had actually stood my ground. I had threatened her beloved
    40
    boy's precious existence should he cross my path again, and I felt full ready to act on my own behalf as necessary.
    Something of vengeance, of violence, I had for the first time tasted. As aromatic wine it seemed, on swallowing, warm and racy, burning in my veins, intoxicating. I could not sit still. I went to the breakfast room and opened the drapes and the glass door. The frost reigned unbroken by sun or breeze through the grounds, a fairyland painted in white. It looked so pure, so cleansing, as if nothing bad had ever touched it or crawled under soil to roots. I wanted to be a part of that fresh, white scene.
    I stepped out. I breathed deep and let the frigid air fill my lungs, needles piercing, pricking me back to life. I walked along, delighting in the silent