A bit of a moan

CHAPTER VIII   Ere the half-hour ended, five o'clock struck; school was dismissed, and all were gone into the refectory to tea.  I now ventured to descend: it was deep dusk; I retired into a corner and sat down on the floor.  The spell by which I had been so far supported began to dissolve; reaction took place, and soon, so overwhelming was the grief that seized me, I sank prostrate with my face to the ground.  Now I wept: Helen Burns was not here; nothing sustained me; left to myself I abandoned myself, and my tears watered the boards.  I had meant to be so good, and to do so much at Lowood: to make so many friends, to earn respect and win affection. Already I had made visible progress: that very morning I had reached the head of my class; Miss Miller had praised me warmly; Miss Temple had smiled approbation; she had promised to teach me drawing, and to let me learn French, if I continued to make similar improvement two months longer: and then I was well received by my fellow-pupils; treated as an equal by those of my own age, and not molested by any; now, here I lay again crushed and trodden on; and could I ever rise more?  "Never," I thought; and ardently I wished to die.  While sobbing out this wish in broken accents, some one approached: I started up--again Helen Burns was near me; the fading fires just showed her coming up the long, vacant room; she brought my coffee and bread.  "Come, eat something," she said; but I put both away from me, feeling as if a drop or a crumb would have choked me in my present condition.  Helen regarded me, probably with surprise: I could not now abate my agitation, though I tried hard; I continued to weep aloud.  She sat down on the ground near me, embraced her knees with her arms, and rested her head upon them; in that attitude she remained silent as an Indian.  I was the first who spoke--  "Helen, why do you stay with a girl whom everybody believes to be a liar?"  "Everybody, Jane?  Why, there are only eighty people who have heard you called so, and the world contains hundreds of millions."  "But what have I to do with millions?  The eighty, I know, despise me."  "Jane, you are mistaken: probably not one in the school either despises or dislikes you: many, I am sure, pity you much."  "How can they pity me after what Mr. Brocklehurst has said?"  "Mr. Brocklehurst is not a god: nor is he even a great and admired man: he is little liked here; he never took steps to make himself liked.  Had he treated you as an especial favourite, you would have found enemies, declared or covert, all around you; as it is, the greater number would offer you sympathy if they dared.  Teachers and pupils may look coldly on you for a day or two, but friendly feelings are concealed in their hearts; and if you persevere in doing well, these feelings will ere long appear so much the more evidently for their temporary suppression. Besides, Jane"--she paused.