Lowood School was cold, and the porridge was burnt, and Mr Brocklehurst preached economy while his daughters wore velvet. He stood me on a stool before the whole school and called me a liar in front of eighty girls. Helen Burns passed behind me and lifted her eyes to mine, and the look in them gave me strength to stand. Helen bore every punishment without anger, and she told me that life is too short to nurse enmity. In spring a fever came through the crowded rooms, and half the school fell ill. Helen died of consumption with her arm around my neck. An inquiry followed, the school was rebuilt, and I stayed eight years, six as a pupil and two as a teacher.