Jane Eyre Page #8

ask you about this letter.

it comes from a lawyer in Millcote.

He writes to me as a person whose name

you gave as a reference

when you went to Thornfield.

that's near Millcote, isn't it?

A client of his wants to

know your whereabouts.

You know who's inquiring for you?

Jane, if you don't want me to talk

about this anymore, I won't.

Thank you, Dr. Rivers.

It's for you to say.

Or would you rather I didn't answer it

at all?

(Public Auction, Furniture and

Personal Effects, The Late Mrs. Reed)

One pound. A quid. L1 is bid.

Thank you very much, sir.

Anybody for 35?

L2 is bid. Going at L2. Going ,going...

Take it away, Bill.

(Dear Mr. Brocklehurst,

I would like to ask...)

Jane.

Jane.

Jane.

It seemed the cry of a soul in pain,

an appeal so wild and urgent that

I knew I must go, and go quickly.

Only when I knew what had happened

to him,

only when I had looked once more upon

that tortured face

could I make my decision.

It was she who did it, Miss Eyre.

She struck dwon Grace Poole

as she slept,

and then she set fire to Thornfield.

It was her laugh in the gallery

that woke me.

I ran into the nursery & wrapped Adele

in a shawl and carried her down.

And as we came out into the courtyard.

I heard her laugh again.

I looked up,

and there she was on the roof

laughing and waving her arms

about the battlements.

Mr. Edward saw her as he came out.

He did not say anything,

but went straight back into the house

to try to save her.

All this side of the house was blazing.

there was smoke everywhere.

Then it cleared.

And suddenly, we saw Mr. Edward

behind her on the battlements.

She saw him, too.

He came towards her to help her down.

She stood very still for a moment,

and just as he seemed to reach her,

she gave a dreadful scream

and ran from him to the edge.

Then next moment, she lay smashed

on the pavement before us.

She was dead, Miss Eyre.

Mr. Edward?

A great staircase fell in

as he was coming down.

Mrs. Fairfax?

Yes, sir?

What the decue are you doing

in this part of the house?

Adele is wating for her supper.

Yes, sir.

Here, Pilot.

Who's there?

Who are you?

I've come back ,sir.

Edward, Edward!

Her very fingers.

What small, soft fingers!

Her hair.

Little flower-soft faxe.

And her heart, too, Edward.

Jane.

All you can feel now is mere pity.

I don't want your pity.

Edward.

You can't spend your life on

the mere wreckage of a man.

You're young and fresh.

You ought to get married.

Don't send me away.

Please, don't send me away.

You think I want to let you go?

As the months went past,

he came to see the light once more

as well as to feel its warmth.

To see first the glory of the sun,

and then the mild splendor of the moon,

and at last the evening star.

And then one day when our first-born

was put into his arms,

he'd see that the boy had inhertited

his own eyes as they once were...

large, brilliant, and black.

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