Сборник лучших произведений английской классической литературы. Уровень 3

I hardly yet knew where I was; Gateshead and my past life seemed long forgotten. I looked round the garden, and then up at the house-a large building, half of which seemed grey and old, the other half quite new. I saw that it had an inscription above the door:

“'Lowood Institution.-

'Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.'-

St. Matt. v. 16.”

I read these words over and over again: there must be an explanation. I was still thinking about the inscription when the sound of a cough close behind me made me turn my head.

A girl a few years older than me was sitting on a stone bench, reading a book. I saw that it was called-Rasselas. It sounded exotic and exciting, as if it might be about genies and dragons. I wished I had a book to read myself, and I wondered if the girl might lend it to me one day.

As she turned the page, she looked up and I took my chance to speak.

“Is your book interesting?”

“I like it,” she said.

“What is it about?”

She handed me the book to look at. 'Rasselas' looked boring. There were no pictures, and I saw nothing about fairies, nothing about genii. I returned it, and asked instead:

“Have you seen the inscription? What is Lowood Institution?”

“This house where you are now.”

“Why isn't it called a school?”

“It's partly a charity-school for orphans.”

“Do we pay no money?”

“We pay, or our friends pay, fifteen pounds a year for each.

Not enough for board and teaching, and we are also funded by kind-hearted ladies and gentlemen from the neighbourhood and London. And Mr. Brocklehurst overlooks and directs everything here.”

“Then this house does not belong to that tall lady who said we were to have some bread and cheese?”

“Miss Temple? I wish it did! But she has to answer to Mr. Brocklehurst.”

“It is that cruel man who visited Mrs. Reed at Gateshead Hall,” I thought.

“Does he live here?” I asked.

“Oh no, he lives in a big house two miles away, with his family. He's the village clergyman[12 - He's the village clergyman. – Он деревенский священник.].”

I asked her about the teachers. They were all nice and she liked them, but Miss Temple was the best. She was very clever and knew far more than the others did.

“Are you an orphan too?” I asked finally.

“My mother is dead.