1 John had not much affection for his mother and sisters, and an antipathy to me.
2 Also I had drawn parallels in silence, which I never thought thus to have declared aloud.
3 The cut bled, the pain was sharp: my terror had passed its climax; other feelings succeeded.
4 He ran headlong at me: I felt him grasp my hair and my shoulder: he had closed with a desperate thing.
5 I was not quite sure whether they had locked the door; and when I dared move, I got up and went to see.
6 Georgiana, who had a spoiled temper, a very acrid spite, a captious and insolent carriage, was universally indulged.
7 Returning, I had to cross before the looking-glass; my fascinated glance involuntarily explored the depth it revealed.
8 This reproach of my dependence had become a vague sing-song in my ear: very painful and crushing, but only half intelligible.
9 I had nothing to say to these words: they were not new to me: my very first recollections of existence included hints of the same kind.
10 I was a discord in Gateshead Hall: I was like nobody there; I had nothing in harmony with Mrs. Reed or her children, or her chosen vassalage.
11 Aid was near him: Eliza and Georgiana had run for Mrs. Reed, who was gone upstairs: she now came upon the scene, followed by Bessie and her maid Abbot.
12 This room was chill, because it seldom had a fire; it was silent, because remote from the nursery and kitchen; solemn, because it was known to be so seldom entered.
13 They had got me by this time into the apartment indicated by Mrs. Reed, and had thrust me upon a stool: my impulse was to rise from it like a spring; their two pair of hands arrested me instantly.
14 He bullied and punished me; not two or three times in the week, nor once or twice in the day, but continually: every nerve I had feared him, and every morsel of flesh in my bones shrank when he came near.
15 My head still ached and bled with the blow and fall I had received: no one had reproved John for wantonly striking me; and because I had turned against him to avert farther irrational violence, I was loaded with general opprobrium.
16 Superstition was with me at that moment; but it was not yet her hour for complete victory: my blood was still warm; the mood of the revolted slave was still bracing me with its bitter vigour; I had to stem a rapid rush of retrospective thought before I quailed to the dismal present.
17 My seat, to which Bessie and the bitter Miss Abbot had left me riveted, was a low ottoman near the marble chimney-piece; the bed rose before me; to my right hand there was the high, dark wardrobe, with subdued, broken reflections varying the gloss of its panels; to my left were the muffled windows; a great looking-glass between them repeated the vacant majesty of the bed and room.
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