1 Now, I did not like this, reader.
2 The church, as the reader knows, was but just beyond the gates; the footman soon returned.
3 Stay till he comes, reader; and, when I disclose my secret to him, you shall share the confidence.
4 Perhaps you think I had forgotten Mr. Rochester, reader, amidst these changes of place and fortune.
5 I was excited more than I had ever been; and whether what followed was the effect of excitement the reader shall judge.
6 While he is so occupied, I will tell you, reader, what they are: and first, I must premise that they are nothing wonderful.
7 I will not swear, reader, that there was not something of repressed sarcasm both in the tone in which I uttered this sentence, and in the feeling that accompanied it.
8 Do not ask me, reader, to give a minute account of that day; as before, I sought work; as before, I was repulsed; as before, I starved; but once did food pass my lips.
9 Now I never had, as the reader knows, either given any formal promise or entered into any engagement; and this language was all much too hard and much too despotic for the occasion.
10 I knew, by instinct, how the matter stood, before St. John had said another word; but I cannot expect the reader to have the same intuitive perception, so I must repeat his explanation.
11 It was English history: among the readers I observed my acquaintance of the verandah: at the commencement of the lesson, her place had been at the top of the class, but for some error of pronunciation, or some inattention to stops, she was suddenly sent to the very bottom.
12 True, reader; and I knew and felt this: and though I am a defective being, with many faults and few redeeming points, yet I never tired of Helen Burns; nor ever ceased to cherish for her a sentiment of attachment, as strong, tender, and respectful as any that ever animated my heart.