schoolroom, and presently beside Miss Temple, who herself had risen,

stood the same black column which had frowned on me so ominously

from the hearthrug of Gateshead. I now glanced sideways at this

piece of architecture. Yes, I was right: it was Mr. Brocklehurst,

buttoned up in a surtout, and looking longer, narrower, and more rigid

I had my own reasons for being dismayed at this apparition; too

well I remembered the perfidious hints given by Mrs. Reed about my

disposition, etc.; the promise pledged by Mr. Brocklehurst to