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I will die.
St. John?
I found her at the door.
She's white as death.
Hannah, some of that hot milk.
St. John, we would have stumbled upon her corpse in the morning.
And she would have haunted us for turning her away.
She's no vagrant. I'm sure of it.
There's milk for you.
Here.
Ask her her name.
What's your name?
Jane Eyre.
Tell us how we may help you.
Your name?
Where are you?
Must hide...
St. John, we must get her warm.
St. John Let us take her upstairs.
Will she die?
Where are you, rat?
I know you're here.
If you crawl out and say, "Forgive me, Master Reed,"
I might consider it.
Mama. John.
There you are.
That book belongs to me, rat.
It belongs to my Uncle Reed.
Spoilt, miserable brat!
Mama! For shame!
Mama!
You wretched imp!
She attacked me.
I hate you, John Reed! I hate you! Hilary, take her! Take her!
Lock her in the red room.
No!
Please, please! No, it's haunted. Please. It's haunted! No!
Please! Please!
If you don't sit still, you will be tied down!
What we do is for your own good.
Pray for forgiveness, Miss Eyre,
or something bad will come down that chimney and fetch you away.
Let me out, please! Have mercy, Aunt Reed! Please!
Do you know, Jane Eyre, where the wicked go after death?
They go to hell.
And what is hell?
A pit full of fire.
Should you like to fall into this pit
and be burned there forever?
No, sir.
How might you avoid it?
I must keep in good health and not die.
What is her parentage?
She's an orphan.
Her mother was my husband's sister.
On his deathbed he exhorted me to care for her.
I have always treated her as one of my own.
If you accept her at Lowood School, Mr. Brocklehurst,
keep a strict eye on her.
She has a heart of spite,
and I'm sorry to say that her worst fault is that of deceit.
You can rest assured
that we shall root out the wickedness
in this small, ungrateful plant.
And as for its vacations,
it must spend them all at Lowood.
You may leave.
You said I was a liar. I'm not.
If I were, I should say I loved you, and I don't.
I dislike you worse than anybody in the world.
People think you are good, but you're bad and hard-hearted.
I'll let everyone know what you have done.
Children must be corrected for their faults.
Deceit is not my fault.
But you are passionate.
My Uncle Reed is in heaven, so are my mother and father.
They know how you hate me and wish me dead. They can see.
They see everything you do and they will judge you, Mrs. Reed.
Get out.
Next. Show me your hands.
Stop there.
Very grand.
Next.
Step out of your fine dress.
Stay there.
Show me your hands.
My name is Jane Elliott.
Who can we send for to help you?
No one.
I mustn't ever be found.
Join me to Thyself
with an inseparable band of love.
For Thou, even Thou alone,
dost satisfy him that loveth Thee.
And without Thee, all things are vain and empty.
Amen.
It's wonderful to see you up, Miss Elliott.
Last week we thought we'd be escorting your remains
to an unmarked grave.
She read The Bride of Lindorf
and suddenly it's all woebegone maidens and dramatic deaths.
I'm sorry to have caused so much trouble.
Nonsense.
You're the most exciting thing that's happened here
since St. John's sermon on the fall of Babylon.
I hope I'll not be eating long at your expense, Mr. Rivers.
Then tell me where to place you.
Show me where to seek work, that is all I ask.
You're not fit enough to work. Is she, Di?
No. Stay with us.
You return to your posts at the end of the month.
What must Miss Elliott do then?
I'll endeavor to help you,
if that's what you wish.
With all my heart, sir.
This school you were at, Miss Elliott,
this charitable institution,
what did it prepare you for?
Was it a thorough education?
Most thorough.
A little wit...
will serve...
a fortunate man.
Again. A little wit...
A little wit...
will serve...
a fortunate man.
Burns!
I will not have you before me in that attitude.
All rise.
I see you are mortifying this girl's flesh.
Sir, she was not...
It is your mission to render her contrite and self-denying.
Continue.
The new girl.
This is the pedestal of infamy,
and you will remain upon it all day long.
You will have neither food nor drink,
for you must learn how barren is the life of a sinner.
Children, I exhort you to shun her, exclude her,
shut her out from this day forth.
Withhold the hand of friendship
and deny your love to Jane Eyre,
the liar.
How do you bear being struck?
Miss Scatcherd hits me to improve me.
She's tormented by my faults.
If she hit me, I'd get that birch
and break it under her nose.
She'd find another soon enough.
My father used to preach that life's too short
to spend in nursing animosity.
At my aunt's house, I was solitary and despised.
She thought I could do without one bit of love or kindness.
You are loved.
There's an invisible world all around you,
a kingdom of spirits commissioned to guard you, Jane.
Do you not see them?
Jane?
Have you something for me to do?
You're doing something already.
May I see?
These are wonderful.
St. John...
No, Mary, please...
See how skilled Jane is.
Is this how you perceive me, Miss Elliott?
Well. How fierce I am.
Jane.
You're freezing. Your little feet are bare.
Come into bed and cover yourself.
How are you?
I'm happy, Jane.
I'm going home.
Back to your father?
I'm going to God.
Don't be sad.
You have a passion for living, Jane.
And one day you'll come to the region of bliss.
Don't leave me.
I like to have you near.
I will not leave you.
No one shall take me from you.
Helen!
Mr. Rivers? I wondered if you had yet heard of any work I could do.
I found you a situation some time ago,
but I've delayed telling you because the work is lowly and I fear you'll scorn it.
I shan't mind what I do.
When I took over the parish two years ago, it had no school.
I opened one for boys. I now intend to open one for girls.
The schoolmistress will have a cottage paid for by benefactors
and she'll receive £15 a year.
You can see how humble, how ignoble it is.
Mr. Rivers, thank you.
I accept.
With all my heart.
But you comprehend me?
'Tis a village school, cottagers' daughters.
What will you do with all your fine accomplishments?
I will save them till they're wanted. They will keep.
Jane.
You will be quite alone here.
I'm not afraid of solitude.
This is my first home where I am neither dependent
nor subordinate to anyone.
Thank you, Mr. St. John.
It is small and plain, as I told you.
Then it'll suit me very well.
Safe journey, Miss Eyre. Godspeed.
Goodbye, Miss Eyre.
Safe journey. Thank you.
Bye, Miss Eyre.
Girls!
Goodbye.
Thornfield, Miss.
Wait here, Miss.
How do you do, my dear?
Are you Mrs. Fairfax? Indeed I am.
What a tedious journey you must have had.
Your hands must be frozen. Here.
Goodness. How young you are.
I'm quite experienced, I can assure you.
Of course you are. I'm sure we're very lucky to have you.
Leah, would you ask Martha to bring a little hot port
and cut a sandwich or two?
Draw nearer the fire.
John is taking your trunk up to your room.
I've put you at the back of the house, I hope you don't mind.
The rooms at the front have much finer furniture,
but they're so gloomy and solitary, I think.
I'm glad you're come.
To be sure, this is a grand old house,
but I must confess that in winter one can feel a little dreary and alone.
Leah's a very nice girl, and John and Martha are good people, too,
but they are servants.
One cannot talk to them on terms of equality.
Am I meeting Miss Fairfax tonight?
Who?
Miss Fairfax, my pupil?
Oh, you mean Miss Varens, Mr. Rochester's ward.
She's to be your pupil.
Who's Mr. Rochester?
Why, the owner of Thornfield. Mr. Edward Fairfax Rochester.
I thought Thornfield Hall belonged to you.
Bless you, child, what an idea. Me?
I'm only the housekeeper.
Forgive me.
There is a distant connection between Mr. Rochester and me,
his mother was a Fairfax, but I'd never presume on it.
Heavens. Me, owner of Thornfield?
We shall have a cheerful house this winter.
With Miss Varens here and with you,
we'll have quite a merry time of it.
I'm sure that last winter, and what a severe one it was, if it didn't rain it snowed,
if it didn't snow it blew.
I declare, not one soul came to the house from November to February.
When spring finally came, I thought it a great relief I hadn't gone distracted.
I've had Martha lay a fire. I hope you'll be comfortable.
Now, get that lot turned over before frost comes down.
Do you want the upper bit doing as well?
Yes.
We must open the window in the study today
to let in some air.
I've never seen such an ancient old house.
How beautifully you've preserved it.
Well, Mr. Rochester's visits are always unexpected.
He doesn't like to arrive and find everything all swathed up,
so I keep it in constant readiness.
Now, come and meet Miss Varens.
Did I mention she's French?
Will you ask her about her parents?
Mr. Rochester neglected to tell me anything about her.
Her mother has passed away.
Adèle is going to show us her accomplishments.
Oh!
How very French.
Very good. Very good.
Now, we're going to make a press. Shut the book up.
Butterfly.
And what was it before it was a butterfly?
Caterpillar.
"I shall leave and walk into town."
"Do not go," begged her maid.
"The Gytrash roams these hills."
A spirit of the North that lies in wait for travelers.
It tenants the carcasses of beasts,
possesses horses, wolves, great dogs.
You know it only by its eyes,
which burn as red as coals,
and if one should chance upon you...
Nothing. A mere story.
What nonsense.
Whatever brings you up here?
I've been waiting to pour our tea.
I'm not in need of tea, thank you.
It's a quiet life, isn't it?
This isolated house, a still doom for a young woman.
I wish a woman could have action in her life, like a man.
It agitates me to pain that the skyline over there is ever our limit.
I long sometimes for a power of vision that would overpass it.
If I could behold all I imagine...
I've never seen a city,
I've never spoken with men.
And I fear my whole life will pass...
Now, exercise and fresh air,
great cures for anything, they say.
I have some letters to post. Will you take them?
Up! Up, you cursed beast! Up!
Stand back. Are you injured, sir?
May I be of some help?
Where did you come from?
Just below, at Thornfield Hall. I am the governess.
I'm on my way to post a letter.
Can I fetch someone to help?
The governess.
You may help me yourself.
Get hold of his bridle and lead him to me.
If you would be so kind.
It would be easier to bring me to the horse. Come here.
I must beg of you to please come here, Miss Governess.
Hold it.
Make haste with your letter.
For who knows what might lurk in these dark woods.
Leah, go and light the fire in the master's bedroom.
And tell Martha to prepare for tea.
Yes, ma'am.
Mr. Rochester's here.
Go and change your frock. He wishes to meet you.
Leah, take her cloak. I have to change?
I always dress for the evening when Mr. Rochester's here.
But all my dresses are the same.
You must have one that's better.
He's in a terrible humor.
His horse fell in Hay Lane, and his ankle is sprained.
He's at the doctor this half hour. Where have you been?
Let her sit.
I've examined Adèle and I find you've taken great pains with her.
She's not bright, she has no talents,
yet in a short time she's improved.
Thank you, Mr. Rochester.
You've been resident here three months?
Yes, sir.
And from whence do you hail?
What's your tale of woe?
Pardon?
All governesses have a tale of woe. What's yours?
I was brought up by my aunt, Mrs. Reed of Gateshead,
in a house even finer than this.
I then attended Lowood School, where I received
as good an education as I could hope for.
I have no tale of woe, sir.
Where are your parents?
Dead.
Do you remember them? No.
And why are you not with Mrs. Reed of Gateshead now?
She cast me off, sir.
Why?
Because I was burdensome and she disliked me.
No tale of woe?
I daily thank Providence for sending us Miss Eyre.
She's an invaluable...
Don't trouble yourself to give her a character. I'll judge for myself.
I have her to thank for this sprain.
Sir?
You bewitched my horse.
I did not.
Were you waiting for your people on that Lane?
I have no people, sir.
I mean for the imps and elves and little green men.
The sad truth is, they are all gone.
Your land is neither wild nor savage enough for them.
Adèle brought me these. Are they yours?
Yes, sir.
Where did you get your copies?
Out of my head.
That head I now see on your shoulders?
Yes, sir.
Who's this?
The evening star.
Were you happy when you painted these? Yes.
To paint is one of the keenest pleasures I have ever known.
Then your pleasures have been few.
Are you satisfied with them?
Far from it. I imagine things I'm powerless to execute.
You've secured the shadow of your thoughts.
Yet the drawings are, for a schoolgirl, peculiar.
Good night.
Come, Adèle.
Most merciful Father,
we give Thee humble thanks for this, Thy special bounty.
Amen.
Amen. Amen.
Sit nicely, please, Adèle.
Pilot!
Pilot, come here!
Go on, further down!
By the river!
He's very abrupt and changeful.
What manner of man is he?
He's a good master.
He's fine company, too, when he...
Except when he's in an ill humor.
Adèle.
I hate to reload.
On three. One, two, three.
Ready?
Oh!
Think that's it, sir. Take it down to the river.
Come on.
Keep it.
Take it away and disembowel it.
Beautiful. Miss Eyre.
I'm not fond of children.
Nor do I particularly enjoy simple-minded old ladies.
But you might suit me, if you would.
How, sir?
By distracting me from the mire of my thoughts.
That is how Maman used to say.
Precisely.
And that's how she charmed my English gold
out of my English pocket.
Let's go and try it on, shall we?
Your gaze is very direct, Miss Eyre.
Do you think me handsome?
No, sir.
What fault do you find with me?
I have all my limbs and features.
I beg your pardon, sir.
I ought to have replied that beauty is of little consequence.
You're blushing, Miss Eyre.
And though you're not pretty any more than I am handsome,
I must say it becomes you.
And now I see you're fascinated by the flowers on the rug.
Come, speak to me.
Fact is, Miss Eyre, I'd like to draw you out.
You have rather the look of another world about you.
I don't wish to treat you as inferior.
Yet you'd command me to speak?
Are you very hurt by my tone of command?
There are few masters who'd trouble to enquire
whether their paid subordinates
were hurt by their commands.
Paid subordinate? I'd forgotten the salary.
Well, on that mercenary ground,
will you consent to speak as my equal
without thinking that the request arises from insolence?
I'd never mistake informality for insolence, sir.
One, I rather like. The other, nothing freeborn should ever submit to.
Humbug.
Even for a salary.
Most free-born things would submit to anything for a salary.
But I mentally shake hands with you for your answer.
Not three in 3,000 schoolgirl governesses
would have answered me as you've just done.
Then you've not spent much time in our company, sir.
I'm the same plain kind of bird as all the rest,
with my common tale of woe.
I envy you.
How?
Your openness, your unpolluted mind.
When I was your age, fate dealt me a blow.
And since happiness is denied me,
I've a right to get pleasure in its stead.
And I will get it, cost what it may.
Then you'll degenerate still more.
But, Miss Eyre,
if the pleasure I was seeking was sweet and fresh,
if it was an inspiration, if it wore the robes of an angel of light,
what then?
To speak truth, sir, I don't understand you at all.
I fear the conversation has got out of my depth.
You're afraid of me.
I'm not afraid. I've simply no wish to talk nonsense.
Do you never laugh, Miss Eyre?
Only rarely, perhaps.
But you're not naturally austere,
any more than I'm naturally vicious.
I can see in you the glance of a curious sort of bird
through the close-set bars of a cage,
a vivid, restless captive.
Were it but free, it would soar, cloud-high.
Leah, have you seen Mrs. Poole?
Yes, ma'am.
The master's in no mood for any more mistakes.
Who's there?
Wake up, sir! Wake up! Sir! Wake up!
The quilt! Give it here!
A noise aroused me from my sleep.
What noise?
There was someone at my door.
Stay here.
Don't make a sound.
Say nothing about this. You're no talking fool.
But... I'll account for this state of affairs.
Say nothing.
Yes, sir.
Is that how you would leave me?
Jane, fire is a horrible death.
You've saved my life.
Don't walk past me as if we were strangers.
But what am I to do then?
I've a pleasure in owing you my life.
There is no debt.
I knew you would do me good in some way.
I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you.
Their expression did not strike my very inmost being so for nothing.
People talk of natural sympathies. You...
Good night then, sir.
You will leave me, then?
I am cold.
Go.
Has Mr. Rochester not sent for us today?
Why, he's gone away.
Were you not aware? He left after breakfast.
He's gone to the Leas. It's Mr. Eshton's place.
I believe Blanche Ingram is there.
She's a great favorite of his.
I saw her two years ago when Mr. Rochester gave a party here.
She's a most elegant girl.
They sang a duet together. They made a lovely Harmony.
I was quite surprised he didn't make a proposal,
but she has no fortune.
In every other way they'd make a splendid match.
Perhaps it's his intention now.
He's far more likely to have gone off to Europe.
He often goes without so much as a fare-you-well,
and I don't see him for a year.
I collected the burnt linen from the master's room.
That's fine. Just go make up the bed.
England is a great power, Adèle.
British ships set sail from here to the outer limits of our empire,
navigating the five oceans and four corners of our world.
From Canada, here, all the way to the south of Africa
and the Cape of Good Hope.
Across the Indian Ocean, to Australia and New Zealand,
and on to Burma, China, India and Malaya.
Nothing.
On these distant horizons, you will find all manner of men.
He's coming back tomorrow.
He's given me directions to prepare all the rooms.
I'm to get more staff from the George Inn.
Miss Ingram's coming.
Supplies to be got, the linen, mattresses...
I'll go to the George now. No, no, I'll tell Martha...
May I assist you, Mrs. Fairfax?
Oh...
South-facing rooms for Lady Ingram and Miss Ingram.
Colonel Dent and Mrs. Dent must have the river view.
I reckon master's taken a fancy to that Miss Ingram.
He may well have asked her already.
I'll wager he will by end of week.
You mark my words.
Adèle.
What's she saying?
Mr. Rochester is here.
Everybody out.
Edward.
Allow me, Miss Ingram.
I'd forgotten how masculine Thornfield is.
I think you need more flowers.
I have the fairest of all on my arm.
Come away, Adèle.
Tonight, he wants both of you in the drawing room after dinner.
Not me, surely.
I'm instructed to tell you, if you resist,
he'll come up and get you himself.
But I don't have a dress.
Don't worry, child, who'll notice?
Mademoiselle!
I thought you were not fond of children, Mr. Rochester.
Nor am I, Lady Ingram.
What induced you to take charge of her?
She was left on my hands.
Why don't you send her to school?
She has a governess.
Poor child. I had about half a dozen in my day,
all detestable incubi.
It's true.
Mr. Rochester, beware the governess.
Mama thinks they're generally hysterics.
Or degenerates.
I thank heaven I have done with them.
It's a miracle I survived my education.
I remember Miss Wilson screaming, "You villainous child!"
That's right. She tried to set her hair on fire.
Frequently, I might add.
Anyway, enough of this dreary race.
We shall have music
and a new subject.
Signor Eduardo, what shall it be?
I give you beauty.
There's nothing new to be said.
I give you back male beauty.
Well, that's my son.
Hear hear.
A man should pay no heed to his looks.
He should possess only strength and valor.
Gentleman or highwayman,
his beauty lies in his power.
Then a pirate would do for you?
Why did you leave the room?
I am tired, sir.
Why didn't you come and speak to me?
I haven't seen you for weeks.
It would have been normal and polite to wish me good evening.
You seemed engaged.
You look pale.
I am well.
What have you been doing while I've been away?
Teaching Adèle.
You're depressed.
What's the meaning of this?
Your eyes are full...
What is it?
There's a gentleman to see you, sir.
From Spanish Town, Jamaica.
And indeed I think he does come from some hot place
because he won't take off his coat.
Mr. Richard Mason.
I've put him in the morning room.
Have I done wrong?
Bring him to my study.
Jane, this is a blow.
If I were to go to those people
and they looked at me coldly and sneered,
and then left me one by one,
what would you do? Would you go with them?
No, sir. I'd stay with you.
You'd dare condemnation for my sake?
For the sake of any friend who deserved it.
Richard.
Fairfax.
How the devil are you?
Splendid.
I'm sorry. I see you have guests.
'Tis no trouble. Come.
What on Earth was that?
Where is Rochester? Wait for me.
I'm here. Be composed. A servant has had a nightmare, that's all.
I must see you back into your rooms
because until the house is settled,
she can't be properly looked after.
Is there anything I might do?
Miss Ingram, ladies, please,
return to your nests like the doves that you are.
I assure you, all is well.
Noisy old house.
Come, my Lily flower.
I told you it was nothing.
Please.
Come with me.
Can you clean this?
Yes.
Drink, Richard. It will give you the strength you lack.
Will it hurt me? Drink!
I must go for the doctor.
Sponge the blood away when it returns.
Give him water if he wants it.
Do not speak to him for any reason.
And, Richard,
on pain of death, do not speak to her.
How does he?
He is sleeping.
Hurry, Carter. Be on alert.
The sun will soon rise and he must be gone.
Let's have a look, shall we?
Flesh is torn as well as cut.
Very, very unpleasant.
Fairfax. Drive!
It's a strange night you've passed.
Yes, sir.
You showed no fear.
I was afraid of the inner room.
You were in no danger.
Mr. Rochester, who did that violence?
I cannot tell you.
Why do you protect them?
I drag through life a capital error.
Its consequence blights my existence.
For years, I've sought to escape it.
This spring, I came home heart-sore and soul-withered.
And I met a gentle stranger whose society revives me.
With her, I feel I could live again
in a higher, purer way.
Tell me,
am I justified in overleaping an obstacle of custom to attain her?
There is an obstacle?
A mere conventional impediment.
But what can it be?
If you Cherish an affection, sir,
then fortune alone cannot impede you.
Yes.
And if the lady is of noble stock
and has indicated that she may reciprocate...
Jane, of whom do you think I speak?
Of Miss Ingram.
I'm asking what Jane Eyre would do to secure my happiness?
I would do anything for you, sir.
Anything that was right.
You transfix me quite.
I feel I can speak to you now
of my lovely one,
for you've met her and you know her.
She's a rare one, isn't she?
Fresh and healthy,
without soil or taint.
I'm sure she'll regenerate me with a vengeance.
You look ridiculous.
This game is ridiculous.
Excuse me, sir.
Does that creeping creature want you?
Excuse me.
This is from my old nurse, Bessie.
She says my cousin John Reed is dead.
He squandered his fortune and has committed suicide.
The news has so shocked my aunt,
it's brought on a stroke.
What, the aunt who cast you out?
She's been asking for me.
I parted from her badly and I can't neglect her wishes now.
Promise me you won't stay long.
Mr. Rochester, I've had no wages.
I need funds for my journey.
How much do I owe you?
Thirty pounds.
Here's 50.
That's too much.
Take your wages, Jane.
I cannot.
Then I only have 10.
Now you owe me.
Indeed I do.
Meantime, I shall safeguard it here.
Do you trust me to keep it?
Not a whit, sir.
You are not to be trusted at all.
Jane Eyre.
I've twice done you wrong.
And I broke the vow I made to Reed.
Please, don't think of it.
Open that box.
Take out the letter and read it.
"Madam,"
"will you have the goodness to send me"
"the address of my niece, Jane Eyre?"
"I desire her to come to me at Madeira."
"Fortune has blessed my endeavors,"
"and as I am childless, I wish to adopt her"
"and bequeath her at my death whatever I may have to leave."
"Yours, John Eyre, Madeira."
This is dated three years ago. Why did I never hear of it?
Because I wrote and told him
you'd died of typhus at Lowood School.
You called the names of the dead down upon me.
You cursed me.
I would have loved you if you'd let me.
You were born to be my torment.
Then love me or hate me as you will.
You have my full and free forgiveness.
Be at peace.
My dear uncle,
Some years ago, my Aunt Reed mistakenly informed you that I had died.
I am writing to tell you that I'm very much alive
and gratified to find I have a relative.
I look forward to our correspondence,
hoping one day we may meet.
I'm currently living at Thornfield Hall,
where I am governess to the ward of Mr. Edward Fairfax Rochester.
Ah. There you are.
Just like one of your tricks,
to steal in along with the twilight.
If I dared I'd touch you to see if you were real.
Come, Jane.
Stay your wandering feet at a friend's threshold.
Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness.
I'm strangely glad to get back again.
There's been nothing official yet,
but he's ordered jewels from his bank
and he's making preparations to travel to Europe.
Mademoiselle.
He's taken to singing,
the operas Miss Ingram favors so well.
We'll hear their announcement soon, I'm sure.
You are to be married.
I see Mrs. Fairfax has intimated my intention
to put my neck into the sacred noose.
Adèle should go to school,
and I must seek another situation.
Congratulations, sir.
Thornfield is a pleasant place in spring, isn't it?
Yes, sir.
You'll be sorry to part with it.
It's always the way with events in life.
No sooner have you got settled
than a voice cries, "Rise and move on!"
I'll find you a new situation, Jane,
one I hope that you'll accept.
I shall be ready when your order to march comes.
Must I really lose a faithful paid subordinate such as yourself?
You must.
We've been good friends, haven't we?
Yes, sir.
I've a strange feeling with regard to you,
as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs,
tightly knotted to a similar string in you.
And if you were to leave,
I'm afraid that cord of communion would snap.
And I've a notion that I'd take to bleeding inwardly.
As for you, you'd forget me.
How?
I have lived a full life here.
I have not been trampled on.
I have not been petrified.
I have not been excluded from every glimpse of what is bright.
I have known you, Mr. Rochester,
and it strikes me with anguish to be torn from you.
Then why must you leave?
Because of your wife!
I have no wife.
But you are to be married.
Jane, you must stay.
And become nothing to you?
Am I a machine without feelings?
Do you think that because I am poor, obscure, plain and little
that I am soulless and heartless?
I have as much soul as you and full as much heart.
And if God had blessed me with beauty and wealth,
I could make it as hard for you to leave me
as it is for I to leave you.
I'm not speaking to you through mortal flesh.
It is my spirit that addresses your spirit,
as if we'd passed through the grave and stood at God's feet, equal,
as we are. As we are.
I am a free human being with an independent will,
which I now exert to leave you.
Then let your will decide your destiny.
I offer you my hand, my heart.
Jane,
I ask you to pass through life at my side.
You are my equal and my likeness.
Will you marry me?
Are you mocking me?
Do you doubt me?
Entirely!
Your bride is Miss Ingram.
Miss Ingram?
She is the machine without feelings.
It's you. You rare, unearthly thing.
Poor and obscure as you are,
please accept me as your husband.
I must have you for my own.
You wish me to be your wife?
I swear it.
You love me?
I do.
Then, sir, I will marry you.
Good night. Good night, my love.
Good night.
Am I a monster?
Is it so impossible that Mr. Rochester should love me?
No.
I've long noticed you were a sort of pet of his.
But you're so young and you're so little acquainted with men.
I don't want to grieve you, child,
but let me just put you on your guard.
Gentlemen in his position...
Well, let's just say,
they're not accustomed to marry their governesses.
Until you are wed, distrust yourself as well as him.
Please,
keep him at a distance.
Come.
What is it?
Jane Eyre with nothing to say?
Everything seems unreal.
I am real enough.
You, sir, are most phantom-like of all.
I will be Jane Eyre no longer.
Edward!
Move it!
Have the carriage loaded and ready within the hour.
Take courage, Jane.
I will.
Come on.
I require and charge you both,
as you will answer at the dreadful Day of Judgment,
when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed,
that if either of you do know of any impediment
why you may not be joined together lawfully,
you do now confess it.
Edward Fairfax Rochester...
The marriage cannot go on!
An insurmountable impediment exists.
Proceed.
"I affirm and can prove..."
Proceed!
"That Edward Fairfax Rochester was,"
"15 years ago, married to my sister."
"Bertha Antoinetta Mason, at St. James' Church."
"Spanish Town, Jamaica."
A copy of the register is now in my possession.
Signed, Richard Mason.
She lives at Thornfield Hall.
This girl knew nothing of this.
She thought all was fair and legal.
She never dreamt she was being entrapped
into a feigned union with a defrauded wretch.
Come, Jane.
Come, all of you. Meet my wife.
Get back!
Go, all of you. Go!
You're 15 years too late.
Mrs. Poole.
You ought to give warning, sir.
This is Bertha Antoinetta Mason.
My wife.
Antoinetta. It's I, Richard.
She has her quiet times and her rages.
The windows are shuttered lest she throw herself out.
We have no furniture, as she can make a weapon out of anything.
I take her for a turn upon the roof each day, securely held,
as she's taken to thinking she can fly.
My own demon.
Jane.
Forgive me. I'm worthless. How could I?
Jane.
No tears.
Why don't you cry?
Why not scream at me? I deserve a hail of fire.
I need some water. Of course.
Jane.
How are you now?
I will be well again soon.
I know you. You're thinking.
Talking is of no use, you're thinking how to act.
All is changed, sir. I must leave you.
No. No!
Jane, do you love me?
Then the essential things are the same.
Be my wife.
You have a wife.
I pledge you my honor, my fidelity...
You cannot.
My love, until death do us part.
What of truth?
I would have told you the truth.
You are deceitful, sir!
I was wrong to deceive you.
I see that now. It was cowardly.
I should have appealed to your spirit as I do now.
Bertha Antoinetta Mason.
She was wanted by my father for her fortune.
I hardly spoke with her before the wedding.
I lived with her for four years.
Her temper ripened, her vices sprang up,
violent and unchaste.
Only cruelty would check her, and I'd not use cruelty.
I was chained to her for life, Jane.
Not even the law could free me.
Have you ever set foot in a madhouse, Jane?
No, sir.
The inmates are caged and baited like beasts.
I spared her that at least.
Jane.
I earnestly pity you, sir.
No.
Who would you offend by living with me?
Who would care?
I would.
You'd rather drive me to madness
than break some mere human law?
I must respect myself.
Listen to me.
Listen.
I could bend you with my finger and my thumb,
a mere Reed you feel in my hands.
But whatever I do with this cage,
I cannot get at you.
And it is your soul that I want.
Why don't you come of your own free will?
God help me!
Jane!
I asked how you were.
I'm getting on very well.
Do you find the work too hard?
Not at all.
Is the solitude an oppression?
I hardly have time to notice it.
Thank you, girls.
Yes, ma'am.
Then perhaps you are dwelling on things past.
When I came to your door, I had nothing.
Now I have a home and work, free and honest.
I thank God for the generosity of my friends.
What you had left before I met you, I don't know.
But I counsel you to resist firmly
every temptation to look back.
That's what I intend to do.
A year ago, I was myself intensely miserable.
I scorned this weakness,
fought hard against it and won.
I wonder if we do not share the same alloy.
You are ambitious, I think.
And this little school will not hold you for long.
Is this yours?
Yes.
What's the matter?
Nothing.
Good night.
Jane.
Miss Eyre.
What brings you from your hearth on a night like this?
There is no bad news, I hope.
How easily alarmed you are, Miss Eyre.
Please, won't you sit down?
Thank you, Miss Eyre.
I saw an advertisement in The Times from a solicitor named Briggs
inquiring of a Jane Eyre.
I knew a Jane Elliott.
This paper resolved my suspicion into certainty.
And so, I wrote to him.
He told the story of a young governess.
And her employer, a Mr. Fairfax Rochester...
Mr. Rivers.
I can guess your feelings, but please hear me.
As you know so much, perhaps you'll tell me how he is?
Who? Mr. Rochester.
I'm ignorant of all concerning him.
But he has been seeking me?
No, he hasn't.
Mr. Briggs has.
And what does he want with me?
Merely to tell you that your uncle,
Mr. John Eyre of Madeira, is dead,
that he has left you all his property
and that you are now rich.
What?
You are rich,
quite an heiress.
Will you ask how much you are worth?
How much am I worth?
Twenty thousand pounds.
If you had committed a murder
and I'd found you out, you could scarcely look more aghast.
There must be some mistake.
Not at all.
You look desperately miserable about it, I must say.
Please,
sit down. I've shocked you.
Mr. St. John.
The debt I owe to you and your sisters...
Is nothing.
You saved my life.
Please write to them.
This money frees us.
They will have 5,000 each,
and so will you, if you'll take it.
Certainly not.
And if you would accept me as a sister,
perhaps we could live together,
at Moor House.
I told you the news too quickly.
You're confused.
My only relative is dead.
You have family.
You cannot know what isolation means.
And you cannot know what it means to be wealthy.
I have been alone always.
I've never had a brother or sisters.
Please, let me be yours.
Are you reluctant to have me?
No, Miss Eyre.
On the contrary.
I shall write to my sisters, as you request.
Brother.
We are bid to work while it is day.
For night cometh, when no man shall work.
Help us to choose the harder path,
for as our master is long-suffering,
so must we be.
Amen.
Amen. Amen.
Good night. Good night.
Good night.
Is Jane not our sister, too?
Good night.
Jane.
I go to India in six weeks.
I can see what your gifts are
and why they were given.
God intended you for a missionary's wife.
I want to claim you.
I'm not fit for it.
I trust you unreservedly.
And know this,
in you,
I recognize a fellow soul.
I'll go with you to India.
Jane.
I'll go if I may go free.
Free?
How can I take out to India a girl of 19 unless she is my wife?
I love you as a brother. As a husband, no.
My heart is mute.
Then I must speak for it.
You've said you'll come.
We shall marry.
And undoubtedly enough of love would follow.
Enough of love?
Yes, quite enough.
Of love?
Yes. In all its forms.
Forgive me, but the very name of love
is an apple of discord between us.
My dear brother, abandon your scheme of marriage.
Why this refusal?
It makes no sense.
I earnestly wish to be your friend.
You can't give half a sacrifice.
You must give all.
To marry you would kill me!
Kill you?
Those words are unfeminine and untrue.
I know where your heart turns and to what it still clings.
Say his name.
Say it. Say it!
Jane.
Why have you not yet crushed this lawless passion?
Jane!
It offends me and it offends God!
What is it?
Where are you?
Wait for me.
Why do you speak to the air?
Jane.
I am coming! Jane!
Wait, please, Miss.
Jane Eyre.
I thought gypsies were come.
And then I saw you, and I thought, it cannot be,
you are a ghost.
No one knows how it started.
I expect that Mrs. Poole took too much of the gin and water,
and as she slept, the lady,
Mrs. Rochester, unhooked the keys.
She did what she failed to do a year ago,
set the whole place to fire.
We would have all perished in the smoke,
but Mr. Rochester would not rest till we were all safe.
Then he went in for her.
The flames were tearing up so high
it brought men running from the village.
I saw her standing on the roof.
The very edge.
I heard Mr. Rochester beg her to come down.
But she jumped.
Mr. Rochester remained,
as if he would not move until the fire consumed him.
I didn't know.
I didn't know it was his wife, I promise you.
Why did you run away, child?
I would have helped you.
I had some money saved.
You could have come to me.
Where is he?
Pilot.
Who's there?
This hand...
Jane Eyre.
Edward, I am come back to you.
Fairfax Rochester with nothing to say?
You are altogether a human being, Jane.
I conscientiously believe so.
A dream.
Awaken then.
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