 Lux presents Hollywood. Lever Brothers Company, the makers of Lux Flakes, bring you the Lux Radio Theatre, starring Ingrid Bergman and Robert Montgomery in Jane Eyre. Ladies and gentlemen, your producer, Mr. William Keely. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. If you've ever visited the Moors of Yorkshire with their threatening crags and weird mysterious fogs, their towering moss-covered mansions steeped in age and legend, you'll realize why those Yorkshire Moors have been the setting for so many strange and gripping dramas. Such dramas, for example, as tonight's immortal story, Jane Eyre. Filmed by 20th Century Fox from Charlotte Bronte's famous novel, Jane Eyre is truly a screen classic, calling for great actors to interpret it, and such are the players whom we have tonight. Robert Montgomery co-starred with Ingrid Bergman in the title role. A biographer of the fabulous Bronte sisters, perhaps literature's most gifted family, describes them as being plainly and unfashionably dressed, with the exception of Charlotte, who had a taste for delicate lace shawls and mantles. Although how she cared for her fine fabrics without Lux Flakes, the writer fails to mention. If Charlotte were alive today and doing her own housework as she did in Yorkshire, I'm sure those new tiny diamonds of Lux would prove a helpful blessing to this family of geniuses. But back to 19th Century England with Act 1 of tonight's play, starring Ingrid Bergman as Jane Eyre and Robert Montgomery as Edward Rochester. My name is Jane Eyre. I was born in 1820. Her time of harsh changes in England, money and position were all that mattered. Charity was a cold and disagreeable word. A religion to offer merely a mask to cover bigotry and meanness. As a child I had no one, only an aunt. I cannot remember that even once did she speak a single word of kindness to me. When I was 10, she sent me away to school to a place called Lowood. What do you want? I am the new girl, sir. Jane Eyre. You are aware of my identity, Eyre? They told me you are Mr. Brocklehurst, sir. That is correct. I am the supervisor of this institution. Institution, sir? Did I give you a little question, me? No, sir. Perhaps the word institution annoys you. Excuse me, sir. I thought this was a school. Lowood is a refuge, Eyre. A refuge for paupers and orphans. Who but for these portals are without homes. Here we give everything. In return, we demand nothing short of absolute obedience and humility. I have tried to be a good girl, sir. You have tried only to torment your poor aunt, from what she told and from what is readily observed. You're a wicked, worthless child. That isn't so. In all the earth there is no sight so terrible as a wicked child. But I promise, all wickedness will be driven from you here. Eyre. Yes, sir? Get to your knees. We shall pray together for the salvation of your soul. That was my introduction to Lowood. It was like a prison, dark and cold, but never so dark nor cold as Mr. Brocklehurst. His hand reached everywhere through those somber walls and in the guise of Christian charity, tormented body and soul alike. Two weeks after my arrival, he found cause to assemble all the children and ordered me to stand before them on a stool. Pupils, observe this child. Be on guard against her. Shun her example and avoid her company. And you, the teachers, watch her well. Punish her body to save the soul. For already the evil one has found in her a willing servant. She will remain on this stool for twelve hours. Return to your classes. If we who were children at Lowood did not flourish, at least we survived. True, we had nothing to cling to, save each other. But the very anguish that was Lowood bound us together still more closely. Life was bearable. I know because I was there for ten years. Shortly after my twentieth birthday, Mr. Brocklehurst sent for me. This is a solemn moment, dear. Little did I imagine that the unregenerate child I received under this institution would in ten short years become one of its teachers. A teacher, sir? The trustees have seen fit to bestow that honour upon you. But I cannot accept the offer, sir. And why not pray? I do not wish to stay at Lowood. This is unheard of, the ingratitude. I've had ten years of harshness and frontiery, sir. For that I can have no gratitude. Wilful, stiff-necked as ever. I see we've been sadly deceived in you. And where do you intend to go? Into the world, sir. I have never seen it. And you know how the world treats young paupers, friendless, without connections? I intend to find a position as a governess. I have advertised in a newspaper. Doubtless you have been overwhelmed with demands for your services? No, sir. This is ridiculous. You have no talents? Your appearance is insignificant? I warn you, air. If you persist in this folly, this haven will never again be open to you. I am leaving Lowood, sir. My advertisement brought me a solitary answer, a letter signed by a Mrs. Fairfax. It bore the crest of Thornfield Hall. I was a whole day in reaching the estate. At the nearest village a coachman met me. And for two hours we rode through the desolate moorlands. Then, in the deep shadows of the evening, it loomed before me. Ancient and huge beyond anything I had visioned. Its grey towers stretched into the darkness, and its massive stone walls butted out into the misty gloom like the ramparts of a fortress. I had arrived at Thornfield Hall. You are Miss Air, my dear? Yes, madam. I'm Mrs. Fairfax. Well, there's a nice cosy fire burning inside. Come, warm yourself, child. Thank you. I'm so glad you've come, Miss Air. Living here with no company but the servants. It's none do cheerful, I tell you. Only the postman and the butcher to have a word with since this hard weather is set in. Shall I have the pleasure of seeing Miss Fairfax tonight? Miss Fairfax? Oh, you mean Miss Adele. Is it not your daughter to whom I shall be governess? Oh, gracious, no. Adele is French. You will see her in the morning. She's Mr. Edward's ward. Mr. Edward? Mr. Edward Rochester, the owner of Thornfield. Oh. I'm only the housekeeper. Will he wish to see me this evening? No, he is not here. He's very seldom at Thornfield. And then his visits are always sudden and unexpected and brief. Oh, but this is such a beautiful home, Miss Fairfax. I mean, it is hard to understand why Mr. Rochester would choose to remain away. It is strange. But then, Miss Air, Mr. Rochester is a strange man in many ways. Let me show you to your room. Thank you. I spend all the next day with Adele. A beautiful and charming child. Like myself, she too was an orphan. And she won me over so quickly. That night, as I was making her ready for bed, she showed me one of her dolls. This is me, me, Mamma Zelle. Such a beautiful dress she has, Adele. Mama had a dress like that. It is a dancing dress, Mamma Zelle. Mama was a beautiful dancer. I also can dance. Do you wish me to dance for you? No, Adele, this very moment. Now you speak like Mr. Rochester. For him, it is never the right moment. Does that make you sad, Adele? Sometimes, Mamma Zelle, I love dancing. I should like it, too. A great many gentlemen and ladies came to see Mama dance. Where? Where was that? In Paris. But when Mama had to go to heaven, then Mr. Rochester came and brought me here. Mamma Zelle, do you like Mr. Rochester? I have not yet met him. That big huge chair downstairs. That is his chair. He sits in it and stares into the fire and frowns. But I'm sure he's very kind to you. Oh, sometimes he brings me beautiful presents. But when he is angry, that is terrible. Oh. But do not be concerned, Mamma Zelle. Tonight, I shall pray to God to make him be polite to you. So you will stay with me forever. Thank you, Adele. Thank you. Later that week, quite early in the evening, I went for a walk alone. It was cold and huge clouds have mist clung to the ground. It was like walking through a dream with a road ahead inviting and invisible. There must have been a turn in the road for I saw nothing and heard nothing until it was upon me. And then out of nowhere, there was a fearful clatter of wolves and a man frantically shoving. And then both horse and rider crashed to the ground. What the devil you mean by that? Oh, I'm so sorry. I must have frightened your whores. Can I do anything? Apologies won't mend my ankle. Stand out of the way. But you're hurt. I told you to stand aside. But I can't until I see that you're fit to ride. Where are you from? From Mr. Rochester's house just below. Do you know Mr. Rochester? No, no, no. I've never met him. You're not a servant at the hall? I'm the new governess. The new governess? Yes. Well, if you're satisfied now that I've broken no bones hand me my whip and get out of my way. Here. Thank you. Now if you will kindly stand clear for a moment. Yes, sir, yes. Jane. Jane. Yes, Mrs. Fairfax. Quickly, dear, he's been asking to see the new governess. Oh, Mr. Rochester, of course. Oh. Rody and honest without warning and in such vile humor. Where is he? Inside before the fire. In his chair. Thank you. Well, Miss Eyre, have you no tongue? I was waiting, sir, until I was spoken to. Come here. This time when you see a man on a horse don't run out in the middle of the road until he's passed. I assure you, sir, it was not delivered. Sit down, Miss Eyre. Yes. Where are you from? Lowwood Institution, sir. What is that? A charity school. I was there ten years. Ten years in a charity school. You must be tenacious of life. No wonder you have rather the look of another world about you. When you came on me in the mist, I found myself thinking of fairy tales I'd half a mind to demand whether you'd bewitched my horse. Indeed, I'm not sure yet. Who are your parents? I have none, sir. And you're home? I have no homes. Who recommended you here? Mrs. Fairfax answered my advertisement. I see, and you rushed here just in time to throw me off my horse. You play the piano? Yes, a little. I see. That's the established answer, isn't it? Go into the drawing room. I mean, if you please, go on. Take a candle and leave the door open and play. What do you wish me to play? Anything? Anything you wish. That's enough. That's enough. You play a little, I see, like any other girl. Perhaps better than some, but not well. Good night, Mrs. Fairfax. Good night, sir. What sort of man was this master of Thornfield? So proud, so cynical, so unmanorly. Instinctively, I felt that his harsh mood had its source in some cruel cross of fate. I was soon to learn that this indeed was true. After he said good night, I went to my room. I had scarcely fallen asleep when I heard it. Like a voice in a nightmare, a wild, insane laughter, a woman's laughter that seemed to come from somewhere in the tower of Thornfield Hall. I opened my door at the end of the long hall in front of the stone steps leading to the tower I saw Mrs. Fairfax. She was talking to someone. Must be Captain. I told you time and time again. It can be heard all over the house. I know. Yes. Good night. Jane, did I disturb you, my dear? No, there's nothing wrong. Wrong? Oh, dear Noah, I was talking to Grace Poole. She's a person we have to do the sewing. She does excellent work, but she's a little peculiar. Well, how did you get on with Mr. Rochester, my dear? Is he always so changeful and so abrupt? Well, he has his moods, but then allowances should be made. Why for him more than anyone else? Partly because that's his nature and partly because he has painful thoughts. Mrs. Fairfax, I don't mean to be curious, but I'm late trouble, Jane. I think that's why his so seldom comes here to Thornfield. It has unpleasant associations for him. Good night, my dear. Good night. Sit down, Miss Fair. Tell me, you have been here now. How long is it? Eight days, sir. Eight days. You puzzle me a great deal, and from the way you stare at me, it's apparent that I also am something of a puzzle to you. Examine me, Miss Fair. Do you find me handsome? No, sir. Indeed. Well, I'm too blunt. Don't turn away. Don't turn away. What does my face tell you? Am I a fool? Oh, no, sir. Is it the face of a kindly man? Hardly that, sir. No, I'm not a kindly man, although I did once have a sort of tenderness of heart. Do you doubt that? Please, I... I have been knocked about by fortune, Miss Fair. She has kneaded me with her knuckles till now I flatter myself. I am as hard and as tough as an India rubber ball with perhaps one small sensitive point in the middle of the lump. Does that leave hope for me? Hope for what, sir? Of my transformation from India rubber back to flesh. You're silent, Miss Fair. Keep your silence then and listen. What I want you to know is this. I do not wish to treat you as an inferior, but I've battled through a varied experience with many men of many nations. I've roamed over half the globe while you've spent your whole life with one set of people in one house. Don't you agree that that gives me the right to be a little masterful? You pay me 30 pounds a year for receiving your orders. Do as you please, sir. 30 pounds? I'd quite forgotten that. Yes, well, on that mercenary ground won't you agree to let me bully you a little? No, sir. Only on the ground that you inquired of my feelings as you're equal. Good. And you'll not think me insolent. I should never mistake informality for insolence, sir. Now where are you going? It's time for the else lessons. You're afraid of me. You want to escape me. You look at me and you hesitate to smile, even to speak. Admit it. You're afraid. I am bewildered, sir. I'm certainly not afraid. You see, it is time, sir. I'm here, Adele. Look at me, ma'am, sir. You too, monsieur. See? It's the bell address you brought me. Is it? Do I not look beautiful, monsieur? See? Go upstairs. But, monsieur... I said go upstairs. Come, Adele, come with me. Miss A, I've not finished talking with you. I go to your nursery, darling. Yes, ma'am, sir. I'll come up in just a moment. Yes. Why are you looking at me like that, Miss A? I don't care what your past misfortunes were. You have no right to advance yourself upon the child. You're quite right, of course. I was thinking only of myself, my own private memories and feelings. I'm a battleground where nature and circumstance tear at each other's throat. Nature intends me to be a good man, Miss A. Circumstances decree otherwise. You may leave now. Thank you. I, uh... I hope you will be happy here at Thornfield. I hope so too, sir. I'm glad. Three nights later, I was again awakened by that awful laughter and a noise in the hall, like the padding of running feet. I threw a rope over me, lit a candle, and opened my door. I could see no one in the hall, but, thankfully, I heard a sort of crackling noise. It seemed to come from his room, Mr. Rochester's. As I drew near his door, I saw it was partly opened, just a crack, but through it came a strange light, and then suddenly I could see it. Smoke, smoke, and fire! Mr. Rochester, Mr. Rochester! It's out, Miss A. The fire is out. Please open the window. Look, the fire seems only to have been at my bed, the bed curtains, and the sheets. I'll get Mrs. Starfax. What the devil do you want to call her for? Let us sleep. Someone started that fire. Stay here. I heard footsteps. Stay here. Why? Where are you going? I won't be long. Stay here and be as quiet as you can. He took a candle and walked quickly down the hall. The window of his room looked out upon the tower, and through the vents in the tower hall I could see now then a flicker of the candle, as it mounted, higher, and higher up the winding stairs. There was something in the tower that had to do with the fire. The light from the candle seemed to cling to the top of the tower. And then, I don't know how long later it glimmered its way down again. There were footsteps in the hall, and Mr. Rochester turned to his room. He closed the door, and looked at me. When you came out of your room tonight, when you saw the fire and awakened me, had you seen anything else, Miss Ehr? No. Did you hear anything? Yes, yes, a kind of laugh. A kind of laugh? Had you heard it before? Yes, once before. There's a strange woman living here, Grace Poole. Grace Poole, yes, Grace Poole. Well, I can see what must be done. Meanwhile, say nothing about this to anyone who wishes. Oh, Adele. You need not be alarmed about Adele. I looked in the nursery just now. Adele is all right. Oh, thank heaven. She's asleep. Next to her head on the pillow, her dancing slippers, trying to console herself for my unkindness to her. The child has dancing in her blood and coquetry in the very marrow of her bones. She has shown you her doll, Miss Ehr. Her dancing doll? With a dress like her mother's? Her mother was a dancer in the ballet at the Paris Opera. Adele is the image of her. But she's dead. Adele's mother is dead. That is what we tell her. The truth is not quite so touching. Oh, she has had so little to love. I shall try to make up for that. Are you always drawn to the loveless and unfriended? When it is deserved. Would you say that my life deserves saving? I should be distressed if harm came to you, sir. You should be distressed. What puny sort of sentiment is that? You saved my life tonight, Miss Ehr. I knew you would do me good in some way at some time. If I did, I'm... I'm very happy. Good night, Jane. Good night, sir. Jane Eyre will continue in a moment. Say, Libby, have you seen any real thrillers lately? I'd like one with plenty of gunplay, fistfights, and a few chases thrown in. Then Columbia Pictures has, just what the doctor ordered, Carina Creek. In fact, Randolph Scott is in a fight sequence, which is one of the greatest ever filmed. And besides, the picture has some of the most beautiful western scenery in Technicolor. I hope there's a girl in it, too. Oh, well, naturally. She's Marguerite Chapman, the owner of the Carina City Hotel. Marguerite has some elegant costumes, including ruffled petticoats that gave the wardrobe department quite a headache. Sounds like a story. Well, in one scene in front of the hotel, some horses were tied to a horse trough. Several riders jumped on the horses and dashed off, but one forgot to untie his horse and overturned the trough. And poor Marguerite was a recipient of a very nice mud bath. I'll bet Lux came to the rescue. That's right. Those tiny diamonds of Lux freshened the ruffled petticoats just as quickly as they do the modern ones. Lux diamonds have certainly made a great hit with women. Why shouldn't they? There's nothing in the world just like them. They're so much faster and richer. I imagine girls appreciate, too, that the way Lux care keeps colors fresh longer. Well, that's true. Tests prove colors stay lovely three times as long. So that's just like getting three pretty slips for the price of one. And that's a big help to the budget. In fact, Luxing anything safe in water saves a pretty penny. Here's your producer, William Keely. We raise our curtain on the second act of Jane Eyre with Robert Montgomery as Edward Rochester and Ingrid Birdman as Jane. There was no sleep for me the balance of that night. The insane laughter, the fire, the story of poor little Adele. Each was a fragment of a tormenting and frightening puzzle. But most bewildering of all was the master of Thornfield Hall. This brooding melancholy man, bitter and unpredictable, as the winds that raced across the neighboring wars and, like the winds, searching and longing endlessly. I was up early the next morning, but not early enough. Mr. Rochester was gone. At breakfast, Mrs. Fairfax told me where. He said something about Milcott. Perhaps he's bound there, perhaps not. Milcott? Lady Ingram's estate, the other end of the county. She has a daughter, Blanche Ingram, and Mr. Rochester are old friends. Oh. Jane, you heard what happened during the night. Yes, I was awake. Oh, it was just terrible. We might all have been burned in our beds. Did Mr. Rochester tell you how the fire started? He said he was reading in bed and fell asleep. The wind blew the candle onto the bed curtain. I see. If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Fairfax, I'll go up to Adele. But Adele was still sleeping. As I left her room, my eyes turned to her, to her, the tower staircase. Almost against my will, I walked to the ancient stone steps and started to climb, half way up the great door bar the way, but it was open and I slipped past. At the top of the stairs was another door, but before I reached it, I came a sudden screaming and snarling, half human, half animal, and a thudding sound as if a beast were tearing at the bars of its cage. I reeled on the stairs and started to descend, but the door behind me swung open and a voice rooted me to where I stood. What are you doing here? Who are you? They've told you who I am, Grace Poole. Never come up here. Never. Why? What is there? What are you hiding? No one's allowed up here. Do you understand? No one. Now go down. Go down. And so, for me the mystery of the tower continued, unsolved. Edward Rochester remained away and the winter weeks dragged by. I found a measure of contentment in Adele's apparent fondness for me. And then, early in the spring, he returned. But he did not come along. He descended suddenly upon us with a dozen guests, among them Lady Ingram and her daughter Blanche. Well, come in, Jane. Let me look at you. You know I've been home for hours, but not a word out of you. Why? You've been with your guests. I had no wish to disturb you. What have you been doing while I've been away? Teaching Adele. Yes, and getting a good deal paler than you were. What's the matter? Nothing. I'm not depressed, sir. So depressed that a few words more and there will be tears in your eyes? No. They're there already. Shining and swimming. Jane. Jane, you must tell me what is it? Mr. Rochester. There's a gentleman to see you, sir. Who is he? Mr. Mason, sir. Mr. Mason, he said of Spanish town, Jamaica. Mason, Spanish... Take him to my study, Mrs. Fairfax. Yes, sir. Jane. I wish I were on a quiet island with only you. Trouble and danger and hideous recollection far away. Can I help you, sir? If help is needed, I'll seek it at your hands. I promise you that. Jane. Yes. If all the people gathered in that other room and came and spat on me, what would you do? I'd turn them away if I could. Or if I were to go to them and they turned away and left me alone, what then? Would you go with them? I would stay with you, sir. To comfort me? As well as I could. Thank you, Jane. We must learn a little more of Mr. Mason later that night. It was long past midnight. The whole house was sleeping when it happened again. That awful screaming from the tower. Her house frightened the guest's flock. To Mr. Rochester, but he had a convenient explanation ready for them. It was one of the servants, he said, a servant having a bad dream. That's all it was, a bad dream. And now, since these halls are inclined to be drafty, I suggest you all return to your rooms. Lady Ingram, you set the good example. Good night to you all again. Come, Blanche. Oh, but I'm quite disappointed in you, Edward. I was so looking forward to seeing you shoot a robber. Weren't you, Mother? Oh, less of your levity, Blanche, and get back to bed. Goodness, it's almost morning. Good night, Edward. And good morning. My sweet dreams, my courageous Blanche. There'll be no more disturbances, I promise you. Jane, are you awake? Yes. Come with me quickly. We're going up there to the tower? Yes. You don't turn sick at the sight of blood, do you? I've never been tried. I don't think so. Give me your hand. It won't do to risk a faint. Your hand is warm and steady. Jane, what you see may shock and frighten and confuse you. I beg you not to seek an explanation, only to trust me. Can you do that? I can do that. The room was a bed. On it, bloody and unconscious, was a man. There was a door on the other side of the small room. It was secured with a heavy chain. From beyond it came a horrible sound of sobbing and scratching and now and then the voice of Grace Poole. But I had time neither to think nor become frightened. Jane, I must get Dr. Rivers. This means leaving you alone here with this gentleman. You will sponge the blood as I do now. If he regains consciousness, do not speak to him on any account. Is that clear, Jane? Yes. Whatever happens, do not move from here or open that door. I'll be back as quickly as I can. There's your patient, Dr. Rivers. Jane, are you all right? I'm all right. He has regained consciousness. We have 20 minutes, Doctor, for dressing the wound and getting the patient out of here. Yes, sir, you told me. Wait a minute. Mason. I'm done for it. That's nonsense. You've lost a little blood, that's all. If he sank her teeth into me like a tatras. It will be better if you don't talk and let me get to work. She said she'd drain my heart. I want Mason. Jane. Yes. Go downstairs quietly on both the side passage door. You'll find Dr. Rivers' carriage down there. See that the driver is ready to leave the moment we come down. Yes, sir. Can I help you, Doctor? No. This will be painful, Mason. It can't be helped. I told you not to come here, Mason. I thought I could do some good. You thought. You thought. Right still, please. I tried so long to avoid exposure. I shall make very certain it doesn't come now. Dr. Rivers will take you to his home. You'll remain there until you're well. It would. Yes. Let her be taken care of. Please let her be treated as tenderly as may be. I'll do my best. And I have done it and will do it. Yet would to God there were an end to all this. Mason and Dr. Rivers. Yes. And it's daylight again. I promised I'd turn to you for help. I didn't know it would be so soon. I'm thankful I was here. We... We could walk for a moment in the garden, Jane. It's so fresh and clean there. Mr. Rochester, will Grace Poole live here still? Yes. Grace Poole will stay. Don't ask for explanations. Just believe me when I tell you there are good reasons for it. You're my friend, Jane, aren't you? I like to serve you in everything that's right. And if I asked you to do something that was wrong, what then? I know the answer. Very quietly you'd say, oh, no, sir. That's impossible. Would I? Jane, imagine you were a young man, thoughtless and spoiled since childhood, and imagine yourself in a far-off land, conceived that you there commit a capital error, one that cuts you off from all possibility of human joys. And then suddenly imagine that fate offers you the chance of regeneration and true happiness. Are you justified in over-leaping the obstacles of mere custom? Tell me, Jane, are you justified? How can I answer that? Every conscience must come to its own decision. But if one can't come to a decision, if you're afraid that you may bring shame to what you most cherish or destroy what you most desire to protect. Oh, Jane, don't you curse me for plaguing you like this? No, I don't curse. Isn't your assurance on that? Your hand. Your fingers are cold. They were warmer last night. Jane, will you watch with me again another night? Whenever I can be useful. For instance, the night before I'm married, will you sit with me then? You're going to be married? Sometime. Why not? But what makes you think he's a mistake? Mr. Rochester also makes me perfect. Oh, what a place to be. Oh, that's Adele. The delectable Miss Ingram. Blanche. Edward, is that you? Uncle Edward. What do you mean by running off like this so early? Excuse me, Jane. And what do you mean by rising so early? A correct host entertains his guests. My dear Blanche, when will you learn I was never correct and never will be? Come along. Why do you stop, Blanche? Oh, don't you know the rest of it? Edward, does that person wish to see you? Person? Oh. Come in, Miss Eyre. I'm sorry, sir. I did not know you were occupied. I'm sure Miss Ingram will excuse me for a moment. Certainly. But don't forget, Edward. You promised to show me the estate. Why, Jane? I overheard some of the guests after luncheon. They mentioned you were leaving with them in the morning. I wish to ask for a reference, sir. Reference? What the deuce do you want a reference for? So I might look for a new place. You as much as told me you are going to be married. Well? In which case Adele would likely go off somewhere to school. I see. Adele must go off to school and you must go to the devil. Is that it? I hope not, sir. When the time comes for you to get a new situation, I'll get one for you. Do you hear? Very well. I may not see you again before you leave. Goodbye, Mr. Rogers. Goodbye, Miss Eyre. Jane. Jane is that all? It seems so dry and stingy. Won't you do more than say goodbye? Oh. Your hand. You'll shake my hand. Goodbye, Jane. You've seen it all, Blanche. The fields, the forests, and now the garden. Oh, it's such a beautiful place, your thornfield. As a dungeon, it serves its purpose. Dungeon? It's a paradise. A haven. A haven of peace and love. Who's talking of love? Distraction is what a man needs. Distraction to keep him from peering too closely into the mysteries of his heart. I sometimes wonder if you have a heart, Edward. Have I ever said anything to make you believe I have? Oh, Edward, are you never serious? Never. More than at this moment, except perhaps when I'm eating my dinner. Really, you can be so revoltingly coarse at times. Can I ever be anything else? Would I have come to thornfield if I thought you couldn't? Well, now we have something to consider. First, Mr. Rochester is revoltingly coarse and ugly as sin. Edward, I never... Secondly, he's extremely careful never to talk of love or marriage. And this is the third point. The ingrams are somewhat impoverished, whereas the revolting, Mr. Rochester, has an assured income of 8,000 pounds a year. Edward! Now, in view of all this, what attitude shall Miss Blanche be expected to take? From what I know of the world I'd surmise she'd ignore the costness, et cetera, et cetera, until such time as Mr. Rochester is safely hooked. How dare you? Now, now, no, horseplay. I've never been so insulted in my life. Blanche, I have just paid you the enormous compliment of being completely honest. You're a boron occur. Leave me at once. My guests have gone, Jane. All gone. And we are alone again. I will be leaving too, Mr. Rochester. Soon to forget me. I will never forget... forget you. You know that. But I see the necessity of going. It's like looking on the necessity of death. Where do you see that necessity? In your bride. My bride? I have no bride. But you will have. Yes, I will. I will. So you think I could stay here to become nothing to you? Do you think because I'm... I'm poor and obscure and plain that I'm soulless and heartless? I have as much soulless you and fully as much heart. And if God had gifted me with wealth and beauty, I shouldn't have made it as difficult for you to leave me as it is now for me to leave you. Oh, there. There. I've spoken. Now let me go. Jane, you strange, you almost unearthly thing. You that I love is my own fashion. Don't move. I have no love for Blanche. It's you I want. Answer me, Jane. Quickly. Say Edward, I'll marry you. Say it. Say it, Jane. Say Edward, I'll marry you. Edward, I'll marry you. God forgive me. Edward. God forgive me. We pause now for station identification. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. Our stars will return with Act 3 of Jane Eyre in a moment. The last time I saw tonight's charming guest, Randy Stewart, was at 20th Century Fox, where she gave a fine performance in my new picture, The Street with No Name, a film based on incidents in the files of the FBI. It was a privilege to work with you, Mr. Keely, and especially to work on such an important story. The Federal Bureau of Investigations certainly gave a splendid cooperation, and it was a great satisfaction to me that their director, Mr. Hoover, was so happy with the picture. Well, I hope Mr. Hoover will forgive me if I say that Mark Stevens is still my favorite G-man. He agreed that Mark gave a natural and thoroughly convincing performance, and I think that Richard Widmark does the finest acting job of his career. You know, Mr. Keely, I didn't mind being killed off in that nightclub hold-up scene in The Street with No Name, but all those trial falls on the floor were rough on my stocking. As I recall, the wardrobe department was standing by with the replacements. Yes, but I didn't need them. Those stockings took the falls better than I did. The wardrobe girl said she was sure it was Luck's care that made those stockings last. But isn't John Kennedy always saying something like that? Indeed I am, Randy, because it's true. The new tiny diamonds of Luck's practically worked miracles with stockings. Actual tests prove that these new tiny diamonds make stockings last twice as long. Well, I've laid down the law at home. From now on, it's Luck's for all my stockings. Women everywhere are really thrilled about these new tiny diamonds of Luck's. They're so much faster and richer. The suds last and last. You'll be surprised how much more they do for you, too. You know, they remove kinds of soil which other types of suds can't, and so leave things cleaner and fresher. Thanks for coming tonight, Randy Stewart. Back now to Mr. William Keely. At the end of our play, there'll be an announcement of a special interest to the ladies in our audience. Here's Act 3 of Jane Eyre starring Ingrid Bergman in the title role and Robert Montgomery as Edward Rochester. All my doubts, all the grim shadows that hung over Thornfield Hall were shattered and gone. I loved and I was loved. Spring had come to the earth and spring had come to my heart. Two weeks later, Edward and I were in the little church in the village. My hand in his has now it would be forever. The minister had started the marriage ceremony. Are you sure that if any persons are joined together otherwise, and as the word of God allows, then are they not joined by God? Therefore Edward Rochester and you, Jane Eyre, if either of you know any impediment why you may not lawfully be joined in metrimony, you do now confess it. Edward Rochester, will thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife? Wait, I declare the existence of an impediment. Proceed with the ceremony. We cannot proceed. Mr. Rochester has a wife now living. Who are you? My name is Mason. On the 20th of October, 1824, Edward Rochester was married to my sister, Bertha Mason, at St. Mary's Church, Spanish Town, Jamaica. The record of the marriage will be found in the register of that church. You swear you're speaking the truth? I swear it. My sister is living now at Thornfield Hall. I have seen her there myself. Fasten, close your book. There will be no wedding today. Instead, I invite you to my house to meet Grace Poole's patient, my wife. It seemed without end the journey back to Thornfield Hall. On the way, we stopped to get Dr. Rivers. Edward insisted he come back with us. That is all I remember of the ride back. His words were spoken, I did not hear them. And then at length, I found myself with Grace Poole and the others, standing again in the tower room. There was a rattle and unlocking a chains and a door opened. And the wife of Edward Rochester stood before him, screaming she flung herself upon him. Her eager hands clawed for his throat, but she had no time to do him harm. Grace Poole and the doctor sprang upon her. When they returned, the door was shut again, and the chains fastened. Only then did Edward speak to us. The woman you have seen is my wife, mad, the mad offspring of a mad family to whom the church and law bind me forever without hope of divorce. And this is what I wish to have, this young girl who stands among you now, so grave and quiet at the mouth of hell. Look at the difference and then judge me. Jane, I did not even know her. I was married at 19 in Spanish town to a bride already courted for me. But I married her gross, groveling, moly blockhead that I was. Jane, do you hear me? I suffered all the agonies of a man bound to a wife at once in temperate and unchaste. I watched her excess as driver at last into madness. Then I brought her back to England, Thornfield. Jane, I did everything that God and humanity demanded. Then I fled from this place. My fixed desire was to find a woman I could love. A contrast to the fury I had left here. And what did I find? An actress in Vienna. A milliner in Naples accountus in Warsaw. Back in England, I rode again in sight of Thornfield. Someone, someone was walking there in the mist. A strange, elfin-like creature. She frightened my horse, then came up and gravely offered me help. And her hand. And then later that evening, Jane, do you remember? I remember. You came into that room, how shy you were. And yet how readily you answered my surly questioning and then you smiled at me. And in that moment, I knew I had found you. Jane, can you forgive me? I do forgive you. And you can still love me. I love you with all my heart. I can say it now, since it's for the last time. Do you mean to go one way in the world and let me go another? Stay with me, Jane. We'd be hurting no one. We should be hurting ourselves. Would it be so wicked to be near me? I'm leaving, Edward. Surely you know that I must. You will not be my comforter, my rescuer. Jane, my deep love, my frantic prayer. Are they nothing to you? Goodbye, Edward. God bless you. God keep you from harm and wrong. Jane. Jane. I had only one place to go. Away from him. Anywhere there would be away from him. But without references, it was impossible to find employment. I soon intimately knew hunger and unsheltered nights. A glass without help or hope. I turned like a beaten dog back to low wood. Mr. Brocklehurst forgot his word, never to open its doors to me again. So you're back here. Penitent and humble, I suppose. Pleading for mercy and prepared, as ever I dare say, to return our favors with your accustomed deceit. If there's a place for me here, I'm ready to beg for it. You would like to become a teacher here? Yes, sir. We need no teachers. If we have need of a girl and a scullery, do you want it or not? Yes, I'll stay. Get in the kitchen then. Yes, sir. Wait. Some months ago, I had repeated inquiries as to your whereabouts from a Mr. Edward Rochester. Obviously, I was unable to assist him. I know no Edward Rochester. I didn't ask you. It makes little difference if you do or not. In his last letter, thanking me for my kindness, he said he was leaving England forever. The summer passed. It was fall again, and then one day the watchman's wife came looking for me. There's a gentleman to see you outside in the cold. I don't want to see him. I don't want to see anyone. I told him you'd come right out. I tell him you were mistaken. Oh, girl, girl, living all to yourself, killing yourself in this cheerless place. Send him away if you want, but at least see him. Who is he? A Dr. Rivers. It is you. Yes, Dr. Rivers. What do you look? Oh, forgive me. Have you been ill? I mean no rudeness, but you're not here to inquire about my health. No, Jane. I'm here at the request of a friend. How did you know I was at Lowwood? I didn't, but I've been trying to find you. I received a letter about you the other day. My friend asked if I, in my journeys about, would inquire after you. Well, I happened to see that villain, Brocklehurst. Have you answered your friend? How could I, Jane? I've just found you. No, you haven't found me, Doctor. You tried, but no one knows where I am. Edward is back in England, Jane. He's at Thornfield Hall again. He's searched for you everywhere. I beg you to tell him nothing, but why, Jane? No one knows better than you why. Yes. It's for you to say, Jane, if you'd rather I didn't answer him at all, I would rather you didn't answer at all. Goodbye, Doctor. Goodbye, Jane. Yes, boys. Night after night, I started to hear it. Jane. I struggled to shut my ears from it, but I could not. It was like a soul in pain. A wild and urgent cry. More than I could bear. I would see him once again, speak with him again, and after that, I neither knew nor cared what happened to me. All I knew was that I must go and go quickly. I reached the estate, but Thornfield Hall was no more. Fire had destroyed it all. I was staring at the pile of charred and blackened rubble when Mrs. Fairfax saw me. She came running from the gardener's cottage. Oh, Jane, oh, my poor, poor girl. What happened? It was she who did it. She ran to the pool as she slept and set fire to Thornfield. Her laughing roused us. I ran to the nursery and carried her down to the gardens. As I stood there, I heard the laugh again. She was on the roof. Mr. Edward was just coming from the house. He said nothing but turned and ran back into the flames. I saw him get to the roof and make his way toward her. She saw him too. She ran to the edge and jumped. When we reached her, she was dead. And Edward, Edward, as he was coming down, the greatest staircase fell. He was badly hurt. Mrs. Fairfax? Yes, sir. What the devil are you doing? The devil is waiting for her supper. I'm coming, sir. There's someone with you. Who is it? Who are you? His eyes. He's, he's blind. A small soft fingers. A hair. A small face. And her heart too. All you can feel now is pity. I won't have your pity. You can't spend your life with the ruins of a man. You're young. Don't, don't send me away. Please, don't send me away. You think I won't let you go? Oh, my darling. As the months went by, he came to see the heavens once more. To see first the glory of the sun, and then the mild splendor of the moon, and at last the evening star. And then, one day, as our first born was put into his arms, he could see that the boy had his own eyes as they once were. Large and brilliant and blank. Before our stars return for their curtain calls, here's Libby Collins with news for the ladies. Here's your chance to get more of the handsome silver-plated teaspoons Lux offered before the war. Their original Rogers silver plate, made by the world's largest silversmiths. They're tops in quality and will give you years of service. A real value. You get three for only 50 cents with the opening tab from Lux of Lux. They're the exclusive Allure pattern, especially designed for Lux. With your spoons, you'll get an extra order blank so that you can order extra spoons and matching pieces. You'll be delighted with these spoons and just as delighted with the new tiny diamonds of Lux. Wonderful as Lux has always been, it's now better than ever. Richer, faster, perfect for stockings, lingerie, all nice washables. Your Lux dealer has order blanks and complete details for getting these spoons. Or mail the opening tab from a box of Lux, together with 50 cents in coin and your name and address to Lux, Wallingford, Connecticut. Order as many teaspoons as you like. Just send 50 cents and the opening tab from a box of Lux for every set of three. This offer is good only in the continental United States, including Alaska and Hawaii, and is subject to all state and local regulations. I'll repeat. Send 50 cents and the opening tab from a Lux box for each set of three spoons to Lux, Wallingford, Connecticut. Send for them tomorrow, sure. Here's your producer, William Keely. It's always a producer's dream to combine a great play with two such stars as Ingrid Bergman and Robert Montgomery, whom we bring back to the footlights for a curtain call. This being flag day, I might risk upon and say you both came through with flying colors. Thank you, Bill. And this being flag day throughout America, I'd like to remind you, listeners, of an important work that's being done to defend the principles for which that flag stands. You mean the International Rescue and Relief Committee, of which you and Barbara are national committee members? That's right, Bill. Although it's been going on now for 15 years, I don't think enough people know just what the International Rescue and Relief Committee is accomplishing. Well, I've heard a great deal about the work it's done in providing for the displaced people of Europe. In my native Sweden alone, we're caring for thousands of refugees who want to continue the fight for freedom and democracy. And the same is true in France, Italy and Germany, every country where they're still working for democracy. Which in the long run will protect our freedom in America. And I'm sure our audience will be grateful to know that whatever you both receive for your performance here tonight is going to the International Rescue and Relief Committee. Well, it's sort of our way of showing our gratitude for living in a country where they still hold free elections and political conventions. Such is our starting to take place in Philadelphia next week with the Republican Convention. Incidentally, what does that do to your next Monday evening broadcast, Bill? Next Monday, Lux is cooperating with the Columbia Broadcasting System by relinquishing this time. But the week following that, June 28th, that is, we'll be on the air, of course, as usual. Have you picked to play in stars for that date, Bill? Yes, a delightful musical that brings back two stars often requested by our audience. It's 20th Century Fox's current screen hit You Were Meant For Me, starring Jean Crane and Dan Daly. A romantic and heartwarming comedy that features some of the most popular tunes of the nostalgic 1920s. Well, that's worth waiting two weeks for, Bill. We'll be listening on the 28th then. Good night. Good night, Bill. Good night. It was a treat having you here. Your brother's company, the makers of Lux Flakes, joined me in inviting you to be with us again June the 28th, when the Lux Radio Theatre presents Dan Daly and Jean Crane in You Were Meant For Me. This is William Keely saying good night to you from Hollywood. Ingrid Bergman is currently appearing in the Enterprise production, Arch of Triumph, co-starred with Charles Boyer. Robert Montgomery will soon be seen co-starred with Betty Davis in the Warner Brothers production June Bride. Heard in our cast tonight were Janet Scott as Mrs. Fairfax, Herbert Butterfield as Brockelhurst, Francis Robinson as Blanche, and Marlene Ames, William John Stone, Anne Carter, Stanley Waxman, Gloria Gordon, Regina Wallace, Norman Field, and Martha Wentworth. Our music was directed by Lois Silvers. And this is your announcer, John Milton Kennedy, reminding you to join us again on Monday, June 28th to hear You Were Meant For Me with Jean Crane and Dan Daly. Stay tuned for My Friend Irma which follows immediately over most of these stations. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.