I had once vowed that I would never call her aunt again: I thought it no sin to forget and break that vow now. My fingers had fastened on her hand which lay outside the sheet: had she pressed mine kindly，I should at that moment have experienced true pleasure. But unimpressionable natures are not so soon softened，nor are natural antipathies so readily eradicated. Mrs. Reed took her hand away，and，turning her face rather from me，she remarked that the night was warm. Again she regarded me so icily，I felt at once that her opinion of me- her feeling towards me- was unchanged and unchangeable.

I knew by her stony eye- opaque to tenderness，indissoluble to tears- that she was resolved to consider me bad to the last; because to believe me good would give her no generous pleasure: only a sense of mortification.

I felt pain，and then I felt ire; and then I felt a determination to subdue her- to be her mistress in spite both of her nature and her will. My tears had risen，just as in childhood: I ordered them back to their source. I brought a chair to the bed-head: I sat down and leaned over the pillow.

"You sent for me," I said，"and I am here; and it is my intention to stay till I see how you get on."

"Oh，of course! You have seen my daughters?"

"Yes."

"Well，you may tell them I wish you to stay till I can talk some things over with you I have on my mind: to-night it is too late，and I have a difficulty in recalling them. But there was something I wished to say- let me see-"

The wandering look and changed utterance told what wreck had taken place in her once vigorous frame. Turning restlessly，she drew the bedclothes round her; my elbow，resting on a corner of the quilt，fixed it down: she was at once irritated.

"Sit up!" said she; "don"t annoy me with holding the clothes fast. Are you Jane Eyre?"