"Everybody，Jane? Why，there are only eighty people who have heard you called so，and the world contains hundreds of millions."

"But what have I to do with millions? The eighty，I know，despise me."

"Jane，you are mistaken: probably not one in the school either despises or dislikes you: many，I am sure，pity you much."

"How can they pity me after what Mr. Brocklehurst has said?"

"Mr. Brocklehurst is not a god: nor is he even a great and admired man; he is little liked here; he never took steps to make himself liked. Had he treated you as an especial favourite，you would have found enemies，declared or covert，all around you; as it is，the greater number would offer you sympathy if they dared.

Teachers and pupils may look coldly on you for a day or two，but friendly feelings are concealed in their hearts; and if you persevere in doing well，these feelings will ere long appear so much the more evidently for their temporary suppression. Besides，Jane"- she paused.

"Well，Helen?" said I，putting my hand into hers: she chafed my fingers gently to warm them，and went on-"If all the world hated you，and believed you wicked，while your own conscience approved you，and absolved you from guilt，you would not be without friends."

"No; I know I should think well of myself; but that is not enough: if others don"t love me I would rather die than live- I cannot bear to be solitary and hated，Helen. Look here; to gain some real affection from you，or Miss Temple，or any other whom I truly love，I would willingly submit to have the bone of my arm broken，or to let a bull toss me，or to stand behind a kicking horse，and let it dash its hoof at my chest-"

"Hush，Jane! you think too much of the love of human beings; you are too impulsive，too vehement; the sovereign hand that created your frame，and put life into it，has provided you with other resources than your feeble self，or than creatures feeble as you.