{"product_id":"jane-eyre-isbn-9780679405825","title":"Jane Eyre","description":"Jane Eyre, a penniless orphan, is engaged as governess at Thornfield Hall by the mysterious Mr Rochester. Her integrity and independence are tested to the limit as their love for each other grows, and the secrets of Mr Rochester's past are revealed. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCharlotte Brontë’s novel about the passionate love between Jane Eyre, a young girl alone in the world, and the rich, brilliant, domineering Rochester has, ever since its publication in 1847, enthralled every kind of reader, from the most critical and cultivated to the youngest and most unabashedly romantic. It lives as one of the great triumphs of storytelling and as a moving affirmation of the prerogatives of the heart in the face of disappointment and misfortune. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eJane Eyre\u003c\/i\u003e has enjoyed huge popularity since first publication, and its success owes much to its exceptional emotional power.Charlotte Brontë (1816-1855), a poor clergyman’s daughter from Yorkshire, England, worked as a teacher and governess before her publication of \u003ci\u003eJane Eyre \u003c\/i\u003ewon her instant fame. She went on to produce three more novels before dying at the age of thirty-eight.There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed,  in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when  there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds  so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out  of the question.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was glad of it: I never liked long walks, especially on chilly  afternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight, with nipped fingers  and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidings of Bessie, the nurse, and humbled  by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The said Eliza, John, and Georgiana were now clustered round their mama in the drawing-room:  she lay reclined on a sofa by the fireside, and with her darlings about her (for  the time neither quarrelling nor crying) looked perfectly happy. Me, she had dispensed  from joining the group; saying, 'She regretted to be under the necessity of keeping  me at a distance; but that until she heard from Bessie, and could discover by her  own observation that I was endeavouring in good earnest to acquire a more sociable  and childlike disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner,—something lighter,  franker, more natural as it were—she really must exclude me from privileges intended  only for contented, happy, little children.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'What does Bessie say I have done?'  I asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'Jane, I don't like cavillers or questioners: besides, there is something  truly forbidding in a child taking up her elders in that manner. Be seated somewhere;  and until you can speak pleasantly, remain silent.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A small breakfast-room adjoined  the drawing-room. I slipped in there. It contained a book-case: I soon possessed  myself of a volume, taking care that it should be one stored with pictures. I mounted  into the window-seat: gathering up my feet, I sat cross-legged, like a Turk; and,  having drawn the red moreen curtain nearly close, I was shrined in double retirement.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the  clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day.  At intervals, while turning over the leaves of my book, I studied the aspect of that  winter afternoon. Afar, it offered a pale blank of mist and cloud; near, a scene  of wet lawn and storm-beat shrub, with ceaseless rain sweeping away wildly before  a long and lamentable blast.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I returned to my book—Bewick's History of British Birds:  the letter-press thereof I cared little for, generally speaking; and yet there were  certain introductory pages that, child as I was, I could not pass quite as a blank.  They were those which treat of the haunts of sea-fowl; of 'the solitary rocks and  promontories' by them only inhabited; of the coast of Norway, studded with isles  from its southern extremity, the Lindeness, or Naze, to the North Cape—\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'Where the  Northern Ocean, in vast whirls,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Boils round the naked, melancholy isles\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Of farthest  Thule; and the Atlantic surge\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Pours in among the stormy Hebrides.'","brand":"Everyman's Library","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46299804795109,"sku":"NP9780679405825","price":30.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780679405825.jpg?v=1767730341","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/jane-eyre-isbn-9780679405825","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}