At five o’clock in the morning Bessie came into my room to find me already up and dressed. She prepared breakfast for me, but few children can eat when excited with the thoughts of journey.
As we passed Mrs. Reed’s bedroom, she said, “Will you go in and bid Missis goodbye?” I just shook my head.
“Good-bye to Gateshead!” cried I, as we passed through the hall and went out at the front door.
The winter morning was raw and chill. At the lodge house, the porter’s wife was up; I could already hear the sound of the public coach coming towards us in the distance.
“Is she going by herself?” asked the porter’s wife.
“Yes, fifty miles, all on her own,” said Bessie.
The coach came into view, and the horses stopped. My trunk was taken from me and put up onto the roof. I embraced Bessie, and she kissed me on the cheek.
“Be sure to take good care of her!” said she, as I was put in the carriage and the wheels began to move. I was carried away to my new life.
I remember little of the journey. The day seemed too long took all day, we stopped at the inn once but I had no appetite. I was feeling very strange. We were getting very far from Gateshead, to a remote and mysterious place. The wind started to rush amongst trees; and lulled by the sound, I at last fell asleep.
I woke up when the carriage stopped. The door was opened, and I saw a servant standing in the rain.
“Is there a little girl called Jane Eyre here?” she asked. I said “yes”. The guard lifted me out, my trunk was put down, and seconds later the coach drove away.
I was exhausted after a long journey and chilled to the bone as rain, wind, and darkness filled the air. I could see a house or houses with many windows, and lights burning in some. The servant led me inside it and left me in a silent room by the fire.
As I looked round warming my fingers and trying to make out what was there in the room, two ladies came in. The first one was a tall lady with dark hair, dark eyes, a pale and large forehead, and a figure partly enveloped in a shawl[11]. She was about twenty-nine and looked a little older than the second lady who was, however, shorter, more ordinary, and hurried in gait and action.
“The child looks tired,” said the first lady. “She should be put to bed soon, Miss Miller. And she must be hungry. Let her have supper.” Then she addressed me, “Is this the first time you have left your parents to come to school, my little girl?”
“I have no parents.”
I told her my age, my name and whether I could read, write, and sew. She seemed pleased. She touched my cheek gently and dismissed me with Miss Miller.
Led by her, I passed from passage to passage till we entered a wide, long room, with great tables, two at each end, and girls of every age, from nine up to eighteen, sitting around them on benches. Countless and similar figures, they were whispering repetitions for tomorrow’s classes and their whispers grew into a hum of voices.
I was told to sit on a bench near the door, and Miss Miller walked up to the top of the long room.
“Monitors, collect the books and put them away! Then fetch the supper-trays!” Immediately four older girls, one from each table, got up, gathered the books, went out and returned, each carrying a tray with a pitcher of water, a mug and portions on them. The portions were handed round. Those who liked took the mug and poured water. I was thirsty, but did not touch the food as I was still too excited and tired to eat.
When the meal was over, Miss Miller read prayers, and the classes went upstairs, two by two. By now I was so exhausted, I hardly noticed what the bedroom was like, I only saw it was very long. I was helped to undress and put into bed. In ten minutes the light was switched off, and amidst complete silence and darkness I fell asleep.