inst　Reed；　Brocklehurst；　and　Co。　bounded　in　my　pulses　at　the　conviction。　I　was　no　Helen　Burns。

“Fetch　that　stool；”　said　Mr。　Brocklehurst；　pointing　to　a　very　high　one　from　which　a　monitor　had　just　risen：　it　was　brought。

“Place　the　child　upon　it。”

And　I　was　placed　there；　by　whom　I　don’t　know：　I　was　in　no　condition　to　note　particulars；　I　was　only　aware　that　they　had　hoisted　me　up　to　the　height　of　Mr。　Brocklehurst’s　nose；　that　he　was　within　a　yard　of　me；　and　that　a　spread　of　shot　orange　and　purple　silk　pelisses　and　a　cloud　of　silvery　plumage　extended　and　waved　below　me。

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