Twenty years ago a poor vicar fell in love with a rich man's daughter.
She also fell in love with him, and married him, against the advice of
all her family. Sadly, less than two years later the couple were both
dead. I've seen their grave. Their baby daughter was brought up by an
aunt, a Mrs Reed of Gateshead. You jumped — did you hear a noise? I'll
continue. I don't know whether the child was happy with Mrs Reed, but
she stayed there ten years, until she went to Lowood school, where you
were yourself. In fact, it seems her life was quite similar to yours.
She became a teacher at Lowood, as you did, and then became a governess
in the house of a certain Mr Rochester.'
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