ng　down　at　my　face。　“Have　you　cried　your　grief　away？”

“I　am　afraid　I　never　shall　do　that。”

“Why？”

“Because　I　have　been　wrongly　accused；　and　you；　ma’am；　and　everybody　else；　will　now　think　me　wicked。”

“We　shall　think　you　what　you　prove　yourself　to　be；　my　child。　Continue　to　act　as　a　good　girl；　and　you　will　satisfy　us。”

“Shall　I；　Miss　Temple？”

“You　will；”　said　she；　passing　her　arm　round　me。　“And　now　tell　me　who　is　the　lady　whom　Mr。　Brocklehurst　called　your　benefactress？”

“Mrs。　Reed；　my　uncle’s　wife。　My　uncle　is　dead；　and　he　left　me　to　her　care。”

“Did　she　not；　then；　adopt　you　of　her　own　accord？”

“No；　ma’am；　she　was　sorry　to　have　to　do　it：　but　my　uncle；　as　I　have　often　heard　the　servants　say；　got　her　to　promise　before　he　died　that　she　would　always　keep　me。”

“Well　now；　Jane；　you　know；　or　at　least　I　will　tell　you；　that　when　a　criminal　is　accused；　he　is　always　allowed　to　speak　in　his　own　defence。　You　have　been　charged　with　falsehood；　defend　yourself　to　me　as　well　as　you　can。　Say　whatever　your　memory　suggests　is　true；　but　add　nothing　and　exaggerate　nothing。”

I　resolved；　in　the　depth　of　my　heart；　that　I　would　be　most　moderate—most　correct；　and；　having　reflected　a　few　minutes　in　order　to　arrange　coherently　what　I　had　to　say；　I　told　her　all　the　story　of　my　sad　childhood。　Exhausted　by　emotion；　my　language　was　more　subdued　than　it　generally　was　when　it　developed　that　sad　theme；　and　mindful　of　Helen’s　warnings　against　the　indulgence　of　resentment；　I　infused　into　the　narrative　far　less　of　gall　and　wormwood　than　ordinary。　Thus　restrained　and　simplified；　it　sounded　more　credible：　I　felt　as　I　went　on　that　Miss　Temple　fully　believed　me。

In　the　course　of　the　tale　I　had　mentioned　Mr。　Lloyd　as　having　e　to　see　m