Jane Slayre Read Online Free PDF

Something worse than ghosts perhaps?"
    I pondered. Should I reveal Gateshead's secrets? I didn't know if Mr. Lloyd would believe me or accuse me of fits of fancy. "I wasn't afraid of the ghost, not once I recognised his voice as Mr. Reed's. He died protecting me. I think he meant to do so again."
    "Protecting you from what? Your cousin's bullying?"
    24
    Unwilling to say more, I simply nodded.
    "Are you afraid he will attack you again?"
    "Not while the sun shines." I glanced at the window, sad to see the sun setting, nearly gone. "I wish I had somewhere else to go."
    "Away from your aunt and cousins, truly? You have no other family?"
    "I have no father or mother, brothers or sisters."
    Mr. Lloyd produced a snuffbox from his waistcoat pocket, took some, and put it back. "Don't you think Gateshead Hall a very beautiful house? Are you not very thankful to have such a fine place to live at?"
    "It is not my house, sir; and Abbot says I have less right to be here than a servant."
    "Bah, but you can't be silly enough to wish to leave such a splendid place?"
    "If I had anywhere else to go, I should be glad to leave it; but I can never get away from Gateshead until I am a woman."
    "Perhaps you may--who knows? Have you any relations besides Mrs. Reed?"
    "I think not, sir."
    "None belonging to your father?"
    "I don't know. I asked Aunt Reed once, and she said possibly I might have some poor, low relations called Slayre, but she knew nothing about them."
    "If you had such, would you like to go to them?"
    I reflected. I had seen poverty, and it looked even less appealing than living with vampyres, Abbot, and a potential ghost. "No. I should not like to belong to poor people."
    "Not even if they were kind to you?"
    I shook my head. I could not see how poor people had the means of being kind. I had not yet learned enough of poverty to see anything noble in it.
    "But are your relatives so very poor? Are they working people?"
    "I cannot tell. Aunt Reed says if I have any, they must be a
    25
    beggarly set." I did not repeat that Uncle Reed said I had another uncle, a master slayer. How to explain? Besides, his job was too dangerous to care for a child, and I was not ready to face more danger than John Reed provided regularly.
    "Would you like to go to school?"
    I scarcely knew what school was, but if Bessie's occasional accounts of school discipline, gathered from the young ladies of a family where she had lived before coming to Gateshead, were somewhat appalling, her details of certain accomplishments by these same young ladies were, I thought, equally attractive. Besides, school would be a complete change. It implied a long journey, an entire separation from Gateshead, an entrance into a new life.
    "I should indeed like to go to school. Very much."
    "Well, well! Who knows what may happen?" said Mr. Lloyd as he got up. "The child ought to have change of air and scene," he added, speaking to himself. "Nerves not in a good state."
    Bessie now returned; at the same moment the sound of Mrs. Reed calling out for Abbot could be heard from the hall.
    "Is that your mistress, nurse?" asked Mr. Lloyd. "I should like to speak to her before I go."
    As he was a lowly apothecary, I didn't think Mr. Lloyd in any danger from Mrs. Reed right around her usual feeding time. I thanked him and bid him good-night.
    Bessie invited him to walk into the breakfast room and led the way out. In the interview that followed between him and Mrs. Reed, I presume, from later occurrences, that the apothecary ventured to recommend my being sent to school, and the recommendation was readily enough adopted. I overheard Abbot discussing the subject with Bessie when both sat sewing in the nursery after I was in bed.
    "Missus was, she dared say, glad enough to get rid of such a scheming, vengeful child, who always looked as if she were watching everybody, and ready to find a way to do us all in." Abbot, I think, gave me credit for being a sort of infantine Guy Fawkes.
    26
    On that