Mr. Brocklehurst hemmed.

"Ladies," said he，turning to his family，"Miss Temple，teachers，and children，you all see this girl?"

Of course they did; for I felt their eyes directed like burning-glasses against my scorched skin.

"You see she is yet young; you observe she possesses the ordinary form of childhood; God has graciously given her the shape that He has given to all of us; no signal deformity points her out as a marked character. Who would think that the Evil One had already found a servant and agent in her? Yet such，I grieve to say，is the case."

A pause- in which I began to steady the palsy of my nerves，and to feel that the Rubicon was passed; and that the trial，no longer to be shirked，must be firmly sustained.

"My dear children," pursued the black marble clergyman，with pathos，"this is a sad，a melancholy occasion; for it bees my duty to warn you，that this girl，who might be one of God"s own lambs，is a little castaway: not a member of the true flock，but evidently an interloper and an alien. You must be on your guard against her; you must shun her example; if necessary，avoid her pany，exclude her from your sports，and shut her out from your converse. Teachers，you must watch her: keep your eyes on her movements，weigh well her words，scrutinise her actions，punish her body to save her soul: if，indeed，such salvation be possible，for (my tongue falters while I tell it) this girl，this child，the native of a Christian land，worse than many a little heathen who says its prayers to Brahma and kneels before Juggernaut- this girl is- a liar!"

Now came a pause of ten minutes，during which I，by this time in perfect possession of my wits，observed all the female Brocklehursts produce their pocket-handkerchiefs and apply them to their optics，while the elderly lady swayed herself to and fro，and the two younger ones whispered，"How shocking!"