Maximum-assistance view: every word above everyday vocabulary is explained at every appearance; each name is introduced at its first appearance in the chapter.

CHAPTER I

There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering (to roam without aim), indeed, in the leafless (without leaves) shrubbery (a planting of garden bushes) an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed (Jane's aunt by marriage, mistress of Gateshead), when there was no company, dined (a loud continued noise) early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds (a sky mass of vapor; to darken with sadness) so sombre (dark and grave), and a rain so penetrating (to pierce into), that further outdoor (in the open air) exercise was now out of the question.

I was glad of it: I never liked long walks, especially on chilly (rather cold) afternoons: dreadful (filling with dread) to me was the coming home in the raw twilight (the half light of evening), with nipped (pinched with cold) fingers and toes (the foot's digit), and a heart saddened (to make sad) by the chidings (chidings: cross words of blame) of Bessie (Bessie, the nursemaid at Gateshead, kind to Jane), the nurse (one who tends the sick; to feed at the breast), and humbled (lowly and modest) by the consciousness (waking awareness) of my physical inferiority (a lower state) to Eliza (Eliza Reed, Jane's cold cousin), John, and Georgiana (Georgiana Reed, Jane's vain pretty cousin) Reed (the Reeds of Gateshead: Jane's aunt and her children John, Eliza, and Georgiana).

The said Eliza, John, and Georgiana were now clustered (a close bunch) round their mama (mother — a child's word) in the drawing-room (the sitting room for guests): she lay reclined (to lean back at rest) on a sofa (a long padded seat) by the fireside (the place beside the fire), and with her darlings (a dearly loved one) about her (for the time neither quarrelling (an angry dispute) nor crying) looked perfectly happy. Me, she had dispensed (to do without) from joining the group; saying, “She regretted (sorrow over what is done) to be under the necessity (a thing that must be) of keeping me at a distance; but that until she heard from Bessie, and could discover (to find out) by her own observation (careful watching; a remark), that I was endeavouring (to try hard) in good earnest (deeply serious) to acquire (to get) a more sociable (fond of company) and childlike (innocent as a child) disposition (temper of mind; battle arrangement), a more attractive and sprightly (lively) manner—something lighter, franker (more frank), more natural, as it were—she really must exclude (to shut out) me from privileges (a special right) intended only for contented (satisfied), happy, little children.”

“What does Bessie say I have done?” I asked.

“Jane, I don’t like cavillers (cavillers: petty fault-finders) or questioners (one who asks); besides, there is something truly forbidding (to order not to) in a child taking up her elders (the chosen head of a village; an older person) in that manner. Be seated somewhere; and until you can speak pleasantly (in a pleasant way), remain silent (making no sound).”

A breakfast-room (the room for breakfast) adjoined (to lie next to) the drawing-room (the sitting room for guests), I slipped (to slide by accident; a small error) in there. It contained a bookcase (a case for books): I soon possessed (to own; to hold) myself of a volume, taking care that it should be one stored with pictures. I mounted (to climb on; a riding horse) into the window-seat (a seat built under a window): gathering (to bring together) up my feet, I sat cross-legged (with legs folded), like a Turk; and, having drawn the red moreen (a heavy wool cloth) curtain (a hanging cloth screen) nearly close, I was shrined (a holy place) in double retirement.

Folds (shuts in the arms) of scarlet (bright red) drapery (hanging cloth) shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes (a sheet of window glass) of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear (dreary) November day. At intervals (a space between), while turning over the leaves of my book, I studied the aspect (aspect: look; appearance — the old sense here) of that winter afternoon. Afar (far away), it offered a pale (light in color; whitish) blank (empty; unmarked) of mist (thin fog) and cloud (a sky mass of vapor; to darken with sadness); near a scene of wet lawn (a stretch of cut grass) and storm-beat (beaten by storm) shrub (a bush), with ceaseless (never stopping) rain sweeping (to brush clean; to move widely) away wildly (in a wild way) before a long and lamentable (sorrowful) blast (a violent gust or explosion).

I returned to my book—Bewick (Bewick's History of British Birds, Jane's picture book)’s History of British Birds (Bewick's illustrated book Jane reads): the letterpress (printed text) thereof (of it) I cared little for, generally speaking; and yet there were certain introductory (leading in) pages that, child as I was, I could not pass quite as a blank (empty; unmarked). They were those which treat of the haunts (to visit as a ghost) of sea-fowl (sea birds); of “the solitary (alone) rocks and promontories (a bold headland thrust out into the sea)” by them only inhabited (to live in); of the coast of Norway, studded (a breeding stable of horses) with isles (an island) from its southern extremity (the farthest end; the last resort), the Lindeness, or Naze, to the North Cape—

“Where the Northern Ocean, in vast (very great) whirls (to spin fast), Boils round the naked (bare of clothes), melancholy (gentle deep sadness) isles (an island) Of farthest (farther) Thule; and the Atlantic surge (a swelling rush) Pours in among the stormy (full of storm) Hebrides.”

Nor could I pass unnoticed (not noticed) the suggestion (an offered idea) of the bleak (bare and cold) shores (the water's edge) of Lapland, Siberia, Spitzbergen, Nova Zembla, Iceland, Greenland, with “the vast (very great) sweep (to brush clean; to move widely) of the Arctic Zone, and those forlorn (hopeless and sad) regions of dreary (gloomy and dull) space,—that reservoir (a store) of frost (frozen dew) and snow, where firm fields of ice, the accumulation (a piling up) of centuries of winters, glazed (to turn glassy) in Alpine heights above heights, surround (to close in on every side) the pole (a long rod; the earth's end point), and concentre (to gather to a centre) the multiplied (to increase manyfold) rigours (stiffness; strictness) of extreme cold.” Of these death-white (white as death) realms (a kingdom) I formed an idea of my own: shadowy (dim like a shadow), like all the half-comprehended (half understood) notions (an idea) that float (to rest on water or air) dim (faint; not bright) through children’s brains, but strangely (in a strange way) impressive (striking the mind). The words in these introductory (leading in) pages connected themselves with the succeeding (to follow; to prosper) vignettes (vignettes: small pictures), and gave significance (meaning; importance) to the rock standing up alone in a sea of billow (a great swelling wave) and spray (flying drops); to the broken boat stranded (a thread; a shore) on a desolate (empty and lifeless) coast; to the cold and ghastly (horrible; deathly pale) moon glancing (a quick look) through bars of cloud (a sky mass of vapor; to darken with sadness) at a wreck (a ruin) just sinking (to go down).

I cannot tell what sentiment (a tender feeling) haunted (to visit as a ghost) the quite solitary (alone) churchyard (the ground around a church, with graves), with its inscribed (written on) headstone (a gravestone); its gate (a wall's door), its two trees, its low horizon (where sky meets land), girdled (bound around the waist) by a broken wall, and its newly-risen (just risen) crescent (the curved shape of a young moon), attesting (to bear witness to) the hour of eventide (evening).

The two ships becalmed (becalmed: stopped for lack of wind) on a torpid (sluggish; dull) sea, I believed to be marine phantoms (a ghost).

The fiend (a devil) pinning (a fastening point) down the thief (one who steals)’s pack behind him, I passed over quickly: it was an object of terror (overwhelming fear).

So was the black horned (an animal's pointed growth; a wind instrument) thing seated aloof (apart; at a distance) on a rock, surveying a distant (far off) crowd surrounding (to close in on every side) a gallows (the hanging post).

Each picture told a story; mysterious (hidden and unexplained) often to my undeveloped (not yet grown out) understanding and imperfect (not perfect) feelings, yet ever profoundly (deeply) interesting: as interesting as the tales (a story) Bessie sometimes narrated (to tell as a story) on winter evenings, when she chanced to be in good humour (a mood; a sense of fun); and when, having brought her ironing-table (a table for ironing) to the nursery (the children's room) hearth (the floor of the fireplace; the fireside), she allowed us to sit about it, and while she got up Mrs. Reed’s lace (fine open threadwork) frills (edged with lace folds), and crimped (crimped: pressed into small folds) her nightcap (a cap worn in bed) borders, fed our eager (keenly desiring) attention with passages (passage: a sea-journey — the old sense here) of love and adventure (a daring undertaking) taken from old fairy (a small magical being) tales (a story) and other ballads (a story-telling song); or (as at a later period I discovered (to find out)) from the pages of Pamela (Richardson's novel Pamela), and Henry, Earl of Moreland.

With Bewick on my knee (the leg's middle joint), I was then happy: happy at least in my way. I feared nothing but interruption (a breaking in), and that came too soon. The breakfast-room (the room for breakfast) door opened.

“Boh! Madam Mope!” cried the voice of John Reed (Jane's bullying cousin); then he paused (a brief stop): he found the room apparently empty.

“Where the dickens (the dickens: the devil, in mild oaths) is she!” he continued. “Lizzy! Georgy! (calling to his sisters) Joan is not here: tell mama (mother — a child's word) she is run out into the rain—bad animal!”

“It is well I drew the curtain (a hanging cloth screen),” thought I; and I wished fervently (warmly and earnestly) he might not discover (to find out) my hiding-place (a place to hide in): nor would John Reed have found it out himself; he was not quick either of vision or conception (an idea; a grasping in mind); but Eliza just put her head in at the door, and said at once—

“She is in the window-seat (a seat built under a window), to be sure, Jack.”

And I came out immediately, for I trembled (to shake finely) at the idea of being dragged (to pull heavily along) forth (forward; out) by the said Jack.

“What do you want?” I asked, with awkward (clumsy; uneasy) diffidence (shy lack of confidence).

“Say, ‘What do you want, Master Reed?’” was the answer. “I want you to come here;” and seating himself in an arm-chair (a chair with arms), he intimated (closely familiar) by a gesture (a meaning movement) that I was to approach and stand before him.

John Reed was a schoolboy (a boy at school) of fourteen (fourteen) years old; four years older than I, for I was but ten: large and stout (fat and solid; brave) for his age, with a dingy (dull and dirty-looking) and unwholesome (unhealthy) skin; thick (of great depth through; dense) lineaments (lineaments: the lines of the face) in a spacious (with wide room) visage (the face), heavy limbs (an arm or leg; a branch) and large extremities (the farthest end; the last resort). He gorged (a deep narrow valley) himself habitually (by settled habit) at table, which made him bilious (sick with bile; irritable), and gave him a dim (faint; not bright) and bleared (dim and watery) eye and flabby (soft and sagging) cheeks (the side of the face). He ought (should) now to have been at school; but his mama (mother — a child's word) had taken him home for a month or two, “on account of his delicate (finely tender) health.” Mr. Miles, the master, affirmed (to state firmly) that he would do very well if he had fewer cakes and sweetmeats (sweetmeats: sweets) sent him from home; but the mother’s heart turned from an opinion so harsh (rough and severe), and inclined (to lean toward) rather to the more refined (made fine; polished) idea that John’s sallowness (yellowish paleness) was owing (to be in debt for) to over-application (too much study) and, perhaps, to pining (a fastening point) after home.

John had not much affection (warm love) for his mother and sisters, and an antipathy (deep dislike) to me. He bullied (one who torments the weaker) and punished (to make suffer for a fault) me; not two or three times in the week, nor once or twice in the day, but continually (over and over without stop): every nerve (the body's feeling thread; courage) I had feared him, and every morsel (a small tasty piece) of flesh (the body's soft substance) in my bones (the body's hard frame) shrank (to draw back; grow smaller) when he came near. There were moments when I was bewildered (to confuse utterly) by the terror (overwhelming fear) he inspired, because I had no appeal whatever against either his menaces (a threat) or his inflictions (something laid on as a burden); the servants (one who serves) did not like to offend (to hurt feelings; to sin against) their young master by taking my part against him, and Mrs. Reed was blind and deaf (unable to hear) on the subject: she never saw him strike or heard him abuse me, though he did both now and then in her very presence, more frequently, however, behind her back.

Habitually (by settled habit) obedient (doing as told) to John, I came up to his chair: he spent some three minutes in thrusting (to push hard) out his tongue (the mouth's organ; a language) at me as far as he could without damaging the roots (the plant's ground anchor): I knew he would soon strike, and while dreading (deep fear) the blow, I mused (to think quietly) on the disgusting (sickening) and ugly (not pleasing to see) appearance of him who would presently (soon; now) deal it. I wonder if he read that notion (an idea) in my face; for, all at once, without speaking, he struck suddenly and strongly (with strength). I tottered (to walk unsteadily), and on regaining (to win back) my equilibrium (balance) retired (to withdraw) back a step or two from his chair.

“That is for your impudence (bold rudeness) in answering mama (mother — a child's word) awhile (for a little time) since,” said he, “and for your sneaking (to slip away secretly) way of getting behind curtains (a hanging cloth screen), and for the look you had in your eyes two minutes since, you rat (the gnawing gray vermin)!”

Accustomed (used to) to John Reed’s abuse, I never had an idea of replying to it; my care was how to endure (to bear; to last) the blow which would certainly follow the insult (an offense to honor).

“What were you doing behind the curtain (a hanging cloth screen)?” he asked.

“I was reading.”

“Show the book.”

I returned to the window and fetched (to go and bring) it thence (from there).

“You have no business to take our books; you are a dependent (resting upon), mama (mother — a child's word) says; you have no money; your father left you none; you ought (should) to beg (to ask humbly), and not to live here with gentlemen (a man of good birth and manners)’s children like us, and eat the same meals (a sitting of food) we do, and wear clothes at our mama (mother — a child's word)’s expense (cost). Now, I’ll teach you to rummage (to search by turning things over) my bookshelves (a shelf for books): for they are mine; all the house belongs (to be one's own; to be part of) to me, or will do in a few years. Go and stand by the door, out of the way of the mirror (the reflecting glass) and the windows.”

I did so, not at first aware what was his intention (what one means to do); but when I saw him lift and poise (balanced calm bearing) the book and stand in act to hurl (to fling with force) it, I instinctively (by inborn instinct) started aside with a cry of alarm (sudden fear; a warning): not soon enough, however; the volume was flung (thrown), it hit (hit: captured exactly — the old sense here) me, and I fell, striking my head against the door and cutting it. The cut bled (to lose blood), the pain was sharp (keen-edged): my terror (overwhelming fear) had passed its climax (the highest point); other feelings succeeded (to follow; to prosper).

“Wicked (evil) and cruel (hard-hearted) boy!” I said. “You are like a murderer (one who murders)—you are like a slave-driver (a driver of slaves)—you are like the Roman emperors (the ruler of an empire)!”

I had read Goldsmith’s History of Rome, and had formed my opinion of Nero, Caligula, &c. Also I had drawn parallels (running side by side) in silence (stillness), which I never thought thus to have declared aloud (out loud).

“What! what!” he cried. “Did she say that to me? Did you hear her, Eliza and Georgiana? Won’t I tell mama (mother — a child's word)? but first—”

He ran headlong (rushing head first) at me: I felt him grasp (to seize; to understand) my hair and my shoulder: he had closed with a desperate (without hope; reckless) thing. I really saw in him a tyrant (a cruel master), a murderer (one who murders). I felt a drop or two of blood from my head trickle (to flow in a thin stream) down my neck, and was sensible (sensible: aware — the old sense here) of somewhat pungent (sharp and biting to the nose) suffering: these sensations (a feeling; a public stir) for the time predominated (to hold the upper hand) over fear, and I received him in frantic (wild with fear or haste) sort. I don’t very well know what I did with my hands, but he called me “Rat (the gnawing gray vermin)! Rat (the gnawing gray vermin)!” and bellowed (bellows: the air-pump; a deep roar) out aloud (out loud). Aid was near him: Eliza and Georgiana had run for Mrs. Reed, who was gone upstairs (on the floor above): she now came upon the scene, followed by Bessie and her maid (a girl servant) Abbot (Miss Abbot, Mrs Reed's lady's-maid). We were parted: I heard the words—

“Dear! dear! What a fury (raging anger) to fly at Master John!”

“Did ever anybody see such a picture of passion (burning feeling)!”

Then Mrs. Reed subjoined (to add at the end)—

“Take her away to the red-room (red-room: the grand cold bedroom where Mr Reed died), and lock her in there.” Four hands were immediately laid upon me, and I was borne upstairs (on the floor above).