Джэйн Эйр

Chapter III

           Yet,whenthischerishedvolumewasnowplacedinmyhand—whenIturnedoveritsleaves,andsoughtinitsmarvellouspicturesthecharmIhad,tillnow,neverfailedtofind—allwaseerieanddreary; thegiantsweregauntgoblins,thepigmiesmalevolentandfearfulimps,Gulliveramostdesolatewandererinmostdreadanddangerousregions. Iclosedthebook,whichIdarednolongerperuse,andputitonthetable,besidetheuntastedtart. 

           Bessiehadnowfinisheddustingandtidyingtheroom,andhavingwashedherhands,sheopenedacertainlittledrawer,fullofsplendidshredsofsilkandsatin,andbeganmakinganewbonnetforGeorgiana’sdoll. Meantimeshesang:hersongwas— 

           "Inthedayswhenwewentgipsying, 

           Alongtimeago." 

           Ihadoftenheardthesongbefore,andalwayswithlivelydelight;forBessiehadasweetvoice,—atleast,Ithoughtso. Butnow,thoughhervoicewasstillsweet,Ifoundinitsmelodyanindescribablesadness. Sometimes,preoccupiedwithherwork,shesangtherefrainverylow,verylingeringly;"Alongtimeago"cameoutlikethesaddestcadenceofafuneralhymn. Shepassedintoanotherballad,thistimeareallydolefulone. 

           "Myfeettheyaresore,andmylimbstheyareweary; 

           Longistheway,andthemountainsarewild; 

           Soonwillthetwilightclosemoonlessanddreary 

           Overthepathofthepoororphanchild. 

           "Whydidtheysendmesofarandsolonely, 

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