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Jane Eyre (originally published as Jane Eyre: An Autobiography) is a novel by English writer Charlotte Brontë. It was published on 16 October 1847 by Smith, Elder & Co. of London, England, under the pen name "Currer Bell." The first American edition was released the following year by Harper & Brothers of New York. Primarily of the bildungsroman genre, Jane Eyre follows the emotions and experiences of its title character, including her growth to adulthood, and her love for Mr. Rochester, the byronic master of fictitious Thornfield Hall. In its internalisation of the action — the focus is on the gradual unfolding of Jane's moral and spiritual sensibility and all the events are coloured by a heightened intensity that was previously the domain of poetry — Jane Eyre revolutionised the art of fiction. Charlotte Brontë has been called the 'first historian of the private consciousness' and the literary ancestor of writers like Joyce and Proust. The novel contains elements of social criticism, with a strong sense of morality at its core, but is nonetheless a novel many consider ahead of its time given the individualistic character of Jane and the novel's exploration of classism, sexuality, religion, and proto-feminism.
seat. Mr. Rochester took it, leaving room, however, for me; but I stood before him. “Sit,” he said; “the bench is long enough for two. You don’t hesitate to take a place at my side, do you? Is that wrong?” I answered him by assuming it; to refuse would, I felt, have been unwise. “Now, my little friend, while the sun drinks the dew—while all the flowers in this old garden awake and expand, and the birds fetch their young ones’ breakfast out of the thorn-field, and the early bees do their first
for your past kindness to me.” “Little Jane’s love would have been my best reward,” he answered; “without it, my heart is broken. But Jane will give me her love; yes, nobly, generously.” Up the blood rushed to his face; forth flashed the fire from his eyes, erect he sprung, he held his arms out, but I evaded the embrace, and at once quitted the room. “Farewell!” was the cry of my heart, as I left him. Despair added, “Farewell, forever!” That night I never thought to sleep, but a slumber fell
proposing to me is to procure a fitting fellow-laborer in his Indian toils.” “What! he wishes you to go to India?” “Yes.” “Madness!” she exclaimed. “You would not live three months there, I am certain. You never shall go; you have not consented—have you, Jane?” “I have refused to marry him—” “And have, consequently, displeased him?” she suggested. “Deeply; he will never forgive me, I fear; yet I offered to accompany him as his sister.” “It was frantic folly to do so, Jane. Think of the
that I was going on a journey, and should be absent at least four days. “Alone, Jane?” they asked. “Yes; it was to see, or hear news of, a friend about whom I had for some time been uneasy.” They might have said, as I have no doubt they thought, that they had believed me to be without any friends save them; for, indeed, I had often said so; but with their true natural delicacy, they abstained from comment; except that Diana asked me if I was sure I was well enough to travel. I looked very
Herald; you must put it, the first opportunity you have, into the post at Lowton; answers must be addressed to J. E., at the post-office there; you can go and inquire, in about a week after you send your letter, if any are come, and act accordingly.” This scheme I went over twice, thrice; it was then digested in my mind; I had it in a clear, practical form; I felt satisfied, and fell asleep. With earliest day, I was up. I had my advertisement written, inclosed, and directed, before the bell