But I, and the rest who continued well, enjoyed fully the beauties of the
scene and season; they let us ramble in the wood, like gipsies, from
morning till night; we did what we liked, went where we liked: we lived
better too. Mr. Brocklehurst and his family never came near Lowood now:
household matters were not scrutinised into; the cross housekeeper was
gone, driven away by the fear of infection; her successor, who had been
matron at the Lowton Dispensary, unused to the ways of her new abode,
provided with comparative liberality. Besides, there were fewer to feed;
the sick could eat little; our breakfast-basins were better filled; when
there was no time to prepare a regular dinner, which often happened, she
would give us a large piece of cold pie, or a thick slice of bread and
cheese, and this we carried away with us to the wood, where we each chose
the spot we liked best, and dined sumptuously.
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My favourite seat was a smooth and broad stone, rising white and dry from
the very middle of the beck, and only to be got at by wading through the
water; a feat I accomplished barefoot. The stone was just broad enough
to accommodate, comfortably, another girl and me, at that time my chosen
comrade--one Mary Ann Wilson; a shrewd, observant personage, whose
society I took pleasure in, partly because she was witty and original,
and partly because she had a manner which set me at my ease. Some years
older than I, she knew more of the world, and could tell me many things I
liked to hear: with her my curiosity found gratification: to my faults
also she gave ample indulgence, never imposing curb or rein on anything I
said. She had a turn for narrative, I for analysis; she liked to inform,
I to question; so we got on swimmingly together, deriving much
entertainment, if not much improvement, from our mutual intercourse.
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