“What! what!” he cried. “Did
she say that to me? Did you hear her, Eliza
and Georgiana? Won’t I tell mama? but
first — "
He ran headlong at me: I felt him grasp my hair
and my shoulder: he had closed with a desperate
thing. I really saw in him a tyrant, a murderer.
I felt a drop or two of blood from my head trickle
down my neck, and was sensible of somewhat pungent
suffering: these sensations for the time predominated
over fear, and I received him in frantic sort.
I don’t very well know what I did with my hands,
but he called me “Rat! Rat!” and
bellowed out aloud. Aid was near him:
Eliza and Georgiana had run for Mrs. Reed, who was
gone upstairs: she now came upon the scene,
followed by Bessie and her maid Abbot. We were
parted: I heard the words —
“Dear! dear! What a fury to fly at Master
John!”
“Did ever anybody see such a picture of passion!”
Then Mrs. Reed subjoined —
“Take her away to the red-room, and lock her
in there.” Four hands were immediately
laid upon me, and I was borne upstairs.
I resisted all the way: a new thing for me,
and a circumstance which greatly strengthened the
bad opinion Bessie and Miss Abbot were disposed to
entertain of me. The fact is, I was a trifle
beside myself; or rather out of myself, as the
French would say: I was conscious that a moment’s
mutiny had already rendered me liable to strange penalties,
and, like any other rebel slave, I felt resolved,
in my desperation, to go all lengths.
“Hold her arms, Miss Abbot: she’s
like a mad cat.”
“For shame! for shame!” cried the lady’s-maid.
“What shocking conduct, Miss Eyre, to strike
a young gentleman, your benefactress’s son!
Your young master.”
“Master! How is he my master? Am
I a servant?”
“No; you are less than a servant, for you do
nothing for your keep. There, sit down, and think
over your wickedness.”
They had got me by this time into the apartment indicated
by Mrs. Reed, and had thrust me upon a stool:
my impulse was to rise from it like a spring; their
two pair of hands arrested me instantly.
“If you don’t sit still, you must be tied
down,” said Bessie. “Miss Abbot,
lend me your garters; she would break mine directly.”
Miss Abbot turned to divest a stout leg of the necessary
ligature. This preparation for bonds, and the
additional ignominy it inferred, took a little of
the excitement out of me.
“Don’t take them off,” I cried;
“I will not stir.”
In guarantee whereof, I attached myself to my seat
by my hands.
“Mind you don’t,” said Bessie; and
when she had ascertained that I was really subsiding,
she loosened her hold of me; then she and Miss Abbot
stood with folded arms, looking darkly and doubtfully
on my face, as incredulous of my sanity.
