"Yet distant and soft the night breeze is blowing, Clouds there are
none, and clear stars beam mild, God, in His mercy, protection is
showing, Comfort and hope to the poor orphan child.

"Ev'n should I fall o'er the broken bridge passing, Or stray in
the marshes, by false lights beguiled, Still will my Father, with
promise and blessing, Take to His bosom the poor orphan child.

"There is a thought that for strength should avail me, Though both
of shelter and kindred despoiled; Heaven is a home, and a rest will
not fail me; God is a friend to the poor orphan child."

"Come, Miss Jane, don't cry," said Bessie as she finished. She
might as well have said to the fire, "don't burn!" but how could
she divine the morbid suffering to which I was a prey? In the
course of the morning Mr. Lloyd came again.

"What, already up!" said he, as he entered the nursery. "Well,
nurse, how is she?"

Bessie answered that I was doing very well.

"Then she ought to look more cheerful. Come here, Miss Jane: your
name is Jane, is it not?"

"Yes, sir, Jane Eyre."

"Well, you have been crying, Miss Jane Eyre; can you tell me what
about? Have you any pain?"