 Family Theatre presents Joan Evans, Donna Reed, and Vincent Price. The Mutual Network in Cooperation with Family Theatre presents Vincent Price and Donna Reed in Jane Eyre. To introduce the drama, your hostess, Joan Evans. Thank you, Tony Lafranco. Family Theatre's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives. If we are to win peace for ourselves, peace for our families, and peace for the world, Family Theatre urges you to pray. Pray together as a family. One of the most beloved works of English literature is Charlotte Bronte's great human novel, Jane Eyre. Tonight, Family Theatre takes pleasure in presenting Donna Reed as Jane Eyre and Vincent Price as Mr. Rochester. But now to our play in the voice of Jane Eyre. I shall begin my story on a great January day, three months after I had come to Thornfield Hall as governess. It was growing late in the afternoon when I set out to walk to the nearby village to post a letter. Suddenly, there in the lane, I came upon a man who had been thrown from his horse onto the slippery ice. Are you hurt, sir? Can I help you? No, no, thank you. It's only a sprain. No, broke. No. Sir, you do need help. I live at nearby Thornfield Hall. I could run and bring someone. What's that? You say you live at Thornfield Hall? Yes, I am the governess there. Oh, whose house is it? Why, Mr. Rochester's. And this Mr. Rochester. What is he like? I don't know, sir. He's been away. I've never met him. Why do you ask? For obvious reason. You see, I am Mr. Rochester. He had a dark face with stern features and a heavy brow, this Mr. Rochester. And there was something about his eyes, something thwarted. I noticed it again the following evening when he sent for me to come to the drawing room. Tell me, Miss Air, who recommended you to come here as governess for my little ward at Dell? I advertised, sir, and your housekeeper, Mrs. Fairfax, answered the advertisement. Miss Air, who are your parents? I have none. Do you remember them? No. What about Kinfolk? I have only an aunt. From the day she sent me away to Lowood, she has never as much as asked about me. Indeed. Examine me closely, Miss Air. Do you think me handsome? No, sir. By my word, there is something singular about you, Miss Air. You have such a meek and modest air, but you can deliver a breast cancer. Sir, I was too plain. I beg your pardon. I ought to have replied that tastes differ, that beauty is of little consequence or something of that sort. You ought to have replied no such thing. Beauty is of little consequence indeed. Go on. What fault do you find with me, I suppose? I have all my limbs and features like any other man. Mr. Rochester, please. No, no. Criticize me. Does my forehead not please you? Does it mark me a fool? Far from it, sir. I... What is it, Miss Air? You look puzzled, and a puzzled air becomes you. Yes. It would please me to learn more about you, Miss Air. Therefore, speak. About what, sir? No, whatever you like. Well? Sir, I am willing to amuse you if I can, but I do not know what will interest you. Ask me questions, and I will do my best to answer. Very well. Questions. Do you agree that I have a right to be a little masterful, abrupt, perhaps exacting, on the grounds that I am somewhat older and have roamed over half the globe, while you have lived quietly, if miserably? Sir, I do not think you have a right to command me, merely because you were older than I, or have seen more of the world. Your claim to superiority depends upon the use you have made of your time and experience. So? The fact is, I have made bad use of my advantages. You see, Miss Air, at the age of 21, I started, or was thrust onto a wrong track, and have never recovered the right course since. I, uh, I might have been very different. I might have been as good as you, wiser, almost as stainless. If you feel remorse, sir, the cure is repentance. No, no. The only cure for me is reformation. And I could reform. I have the strength yet if... But where is the use of thinking of it, cursed as I am? Cursed? Happiness is irrevocably denied me, and yet, and yet, Jane Air, I will get pleasure out of life, cost what it may. But enough. It's time you put my little ward to bed. Good night. In and again, in the following weeks, Mr. Rochester hinted at the curse which hung over him. And then one night, as I lay awake puzzling over this, I thought I heard a noise at my door. Who's there? By the time I had rushed to the door and unbolded it, the hall was empty. I was about to return to my room when I became aware of something burning. Then I saw that Mr. Rochester's door was open, and smoke was billowing forth. I rushed in, roused Mr. Rochester from where he lay on the flaming couch, and remained to help him as he battled the fire. At last, the flames were safely out, and Mr. Rochester took a candle and went up to the third floor, bidding me wait quietly for him. It seemed an eternity that I stood there, waiting. Is that you, Mr. Rochester? Yes, Jane. I have found it all out, Jane. It's as I thought. What, sir? Jane, when you opened your chamber door, did you see anyone? No, sir. But you heard an odd laugh. Yes. It seemed to trail off toward the passage leading to the third floor. And this laugh? Have you ever heard it before? Well, at various times I've heard something like it, though never so blood-curdling. You never wondered about it? Oh, I did, but I was told that a woman who sews here, Grace Poole, laughs in that way. Just so, Grace Poole, who sews here, lives on the third floor. But Mr. Rochester... Jane, I'm glad that you are the only person beside myself acquainted with the precise details of tonight's incident. Say nothing about it. I'll account for the firing some other manner. Very well, sir. Good. Return to your room. I shall repair to the sofa in the library. Yes, Mr. Rochester. Good night. What? Are you quitting me already and in that way? You said I might go, sir. But not without taking leave, not in that brief dry fashion. Why, you've just snatched me from a horrible death. How can you walk away as if we were strangers? Mr. Rochester... Jane, the first time I beheld you, I knew... I knew you would do me good in some way, at some time. I saw it in your eyes. That expression and smile did not... did not strike delight to my inmost heart for nothing. Now my cherished preserver. Good night. Next morning the house was all abuzz with news that Mr. Rochester had fallen asleep with his candle lit and had almost been burned to death as a result. But the master himself was gone, away visiting, I was told. It was a fortnight before he returned, bringing with him a brilliant party of friends, among them the beautiful Miss Blanche Ingram. During the festivities that followed, I presented myself among the guests as little as possible. But one evening, when Mr. Rochester was absent on business, an old gypsy arrived Thornfield Hall and would not leave until she had told the fortunes of all the single women present. I was the last to be sent into her. The gypsy had on a red cloak and a huge black bonnet tied with a striped tankerchief under the chin. Her face, or rather as much of it as was visible, seemed harsh and forbidding. Well, you want your fortune told, Miss? It is yourself, but I ought to warn you, I have no faith in your magic. It's like your impudence to say so, I expected it of you. Come, my dear, now kneel before me and lift your head. But... Do as I say. Oh, very well. Well? I wonder... You wonder what? I wonder with what feelings you came to me tonight. I wonder what thoughts are busy in your heart. I wonder what secret hopes buoy you up. My greatest hope is to save enough money out of my earnings to set up a school someday. A school in a little house rented by myself. That is what you think of as you sit in your favorite window seat. You see, I know your habits. You have learned them from the servants. Well, to speak the truth, I do have an acquaintance with one of them, Mrs. Poole. Grace Poole? No, no, do not be alarmed. Grace Poole is a safe hand, close and quiet. One may repose confidence in her. May one. But to return to what I was saying, how do you feel, Miss, when you sit in your window seat and see a lady, a young lady, and full of life and health, smiled into the eyes of a gentleman you... I...what? You know, and perhaps think well of. I...I don't know the gentleman here. No, what about the master of the house? Really, I don't see what Mr. Rochester has to do with her conversation. And besides, he has a right to enjoy the society of his guests. Such an answer can only mean you do not know. He is to be married. Married? To the queenly Miss Plunge Ingram. They are to be married soon? So it seems, so it seems. And no doubt they will be a superlatively happy pair. He must love such a handsome, noble, witty, sophisticated lady, and probably she loves him, or at least his purse. Please, I didn't come to him, Mr. Rochester's fortune, or Miss Ingram's. I...I came to hear my own. Hmm, your fortune is yet doubtful. Chances meet you to a measure of happiness, but it depends on you to stretch out your hand and take it. Your heart says, yes, yes, but your brow says, I dare not, I dare not even permit myself to hope or I shall be lost, lost. Now, Miss Eyre. The play is played out. Mr. Rochester. Yes, the old gypsy takes off her cloak and bonnet, and behold, Mr. Rochester. What a strange notion. Ah, but well carried out, eh? With the others you managed well enough. With the others? But not with you? You didn't act the character of the gypsy with me. You've been trying to draw me out or in. It's scarcely fair, sir. But you forgive me, Jane. I can't tell until I thought it all over. Now, if I have your permission to retire... Please, Jane, stay a moment. No, I... I want you to tell me what my guests have been doing, what they've been talking about. Your guests? Oh, I forgot. Are you aware, sir, that a stranger arrived here since you left this morning? A stranger? I expected no one. He said he had known you so long that he would take the liberty of installing himself here until you returned. Oh, and did he give his name? Yes, Mr. Mason. Mason? He comes from the West Indies, from the Spanish town of Jamaica, I think. Oh. Mr. Rochester, are you ill? I... Jane. Yes, sir. Lean on me. Oh, my little friend. Jane, I wish I were on a quiet island with only you, and trouble and danger and hideous recollections were removed from me. Only I could help. I'd give my life to serve you, sir. I believe you, Jane. But now to the matter at hand. Jane, find Mr. Mason and whisper in his ear that Mr. Rochester waits for him. But make sure that nobody overhears you. Nobody. Late that night, I was awakened by an agonizing cry for help. Soon the whole house was aroused. But in the midst of the bedroom, Mr. Rochester appeared from the passage leading to the third floor and sent everyone off to bed again. A servant, he said, had merely had a nightmare. But I knew otherwise, and dressing myself waited quietly for the summons I felt would come. It did come, and Mr. Rochester led me stealthily up to the fateful third floor. Jane, before we enter this door, a question. Yes, Mr. Rochester. You don't turn sick at the sight of blood. I've never been tested, sir, but I shall be all right. So be it then. It's Mr. Mason. Yes. No, only unconscious. Put the candle on the table, Jane. I've brought a bottle of smelling salts you'll soon revive. Put those bandages on his arm and shoulder. They should be changed. Later. There he's coming round. You feeling stronger, Mason? Is there immediate danger? Don't be so overcome, man. Bear up. I'm going now to fetch a surgeon for you. Jane, I shall have to leave you with this gentleman. Yes, sir. You may change the bandages, but don't speak to him on any pretext. Very well, sir. As for you, Mason, it will be at the peril of your life if you speak to her. Open your lips, agitate yourself, and I'll not answer for the consequences. If you leave me here, she'll attack me again. She'll kill me this time. She's locked in securely, and only I have the keys now. I was so frightful. She came at me with a knife. Well, I warned you not to attempt the interview tonight and alone. I thought I could do some good. You'll thought, you'll thought. When will you realize that I know what's best for you, for me, yes, and for that creature? Well, I'll go now. And remember, no conversation with Miss Eyre. Before dawn, Mr. Mason was spirited away from Thornfield Hall. I thought surely that now Grace Poole would be removed to a safer place. But Mr. Rochester let her stay, turning aside my queries about her in a manner that disturbed me even further. Soon after this, I had to leave Thornfield Hall for a visit to my dying aunt, who wished my forgiveness for her treatment of me as a child. It was a four months before I could return. Jane, Jane Eyre, I thought you were never coming home. That is back to Thornfield. Thornfield is my home, Mr. Rochester. I am strangely glad to get back again to it. And you? What's this? You include me? Wherever you are is my home. The dearest home I have ever known. And yet you wrote to my housekeeper that when I married, you thought it best that my little ward had delby sent away to school, and that you yourself would advertise for another position as governess. I'm sure, Mr. Rochester, that you will see the wisdom of my decision. So? Jane, I must tell you now that I have made up my mind to marry. Soon? A month at the most. Then I must advertise it once. Oh, it may not be necessary. My beloved's mother, Lady Ingram, told me of a place that I think will suit you very well in Ireland. Ireland is such a long way off, sir. No matter a girl of your sense will not object to the voyage of the distance. Not the voyage, but the distance. And then the sea is a barrier. From what, Jane? From England and Thornfield and... Well? From you, sir. Oh, I wish I'd never seen Thornfield. Why, Jane? Why? Because I love Thornfield. And I love it because I've lived in it a full and delightful life. I've been treated as an equal. But most of all, I love Thornfield because I have known you, Mr. Rochester. I see the necessity for leaving you, but it is like looking on the necessity of death. Where do you see the necessity? In the shape of Miss Ingram, your bride. My bride? What bride? I have no bride. But you will have. Yes, I will. I will. Then I must go. Now you must stay. Jane. Dear Jane, it is to you that I offer my hand, my heart, and a share of all my possessions. You... Listen to me, Jane. I love you with all my heart and soul. Say to me, Edward, I will marry you. Edward. Say it, Jane. Edward. Dear Edward, I will marry you. A month later, we went. Just he and I to the little church nearby to pledge our vows. But in the very midst of the ceremony... Stop! The marriage cannot go on. What? I declared the existence of an impediment to Mason. You cannot know what you're saying, Mr. Mason. I know that Mr. Rochester has a wife. A wife now living. She is my sister. Edward. Listen to me, Jane. Listen to me all of you before you render judgment. This woman whom I married in Jamaica 15 years ago, Bertha Mason, by name is mad and comes of a mad family. I was tricked into the marriage, but soon learned the truth. Learned it when my bride turned into a hideous wretch. But I could not desert her. I brought her secretly to Thornfield Hall and hired Grace Poole to take care of her. But I have suffered at her hands. No one will ever know. But you, Jane, can you guess? Yes, Edward. Jane, I never considered that fearful creature my wife. That is why when you came so blessedly into my life, I dared to snatch at happiness, dared to ask you to marry me. May God be my judge. From that moment on, I was as one in a trance. That night I fled from Thornfield Hall, taking with me the few shillings in my curse. As time passed, I never ceased for a moment to think of Mr. Rochester, to long for news of him. Then, one night, almost a year later, I thought I heard a voice. Jane. Jane. It was his voice. The very next morning, I began the long journey back to Thornfield Hall, only to find upon my arrival that it was a charred ruin. Some of those timbers may snap. Why? It's Miss Air. And your Grace Poole, Mrs. Poole, what happened? When, how? Happened last autumn, Miss Air. Just about harvest time. A fire in the dead of night. She did it. She started the fire. Yes, she did it. Bertha Mason Rochester. But it was my fault. I fell asleep without locking her in. Yes, it was all my fault. Mrs. Poole, was Mr. Rochester at home when the fire broke out? If he hadn't been, I wouldn't be alive today. You see, he got me out of there when all was burning. Then, he saw her on the roof, waving her arms above the battlements and shouting fiendishly. We tried to stop him, but he climbed back up to get her. Then, just as he approached her, she jumped. Dead. At peace at last. Were there any other lives lost? I wish with all my heart and soul that I didn't have to tell you this, Miss Air. But Mr. Rochester's... Oh, no, no, not dead. He lives. But he's blind. But he lives. He lives. Tell me where? At Fern Dean, about 30 miles from here. They say he's quite helpless. You can understand why I've never been to see him. The thought that if it hadn't been for me... Mrs. Poole, Grace Poole, is that your voice I hear? Mr. Rochester, it's Mr. Rochester. Edward, my Edward. I was no more surprised to find me here, Mrs. Poole, than I am to be here. But a strange fancy seems to have taken hold of me. Three nights ago I could no longer bear the burden of my affliction. And I found myself crying out, Jane, Jane, Jane. And a voice, her voice answered, I am coming. Today I woke to find myself irresistibly drawn to these ruins. I know, I know. You think me mad as mad as that woman who was my wife. But I cannot, I cannot let myself believe that Jane Eyre is dead. I cannot let myself believe that God in His infinite mercy. Edward, give me your hand. Who is it? Who speaks what extremity of madness? These are her fingers, her small, slight fingers. I've come back to you, Edward. I shall never leave you again. Jane, Jane Eyre. I have now been married ten years. For two of those years Mr. Rochester remained blind. But then the sight was restored to one eye, so that when his first born was put into his arms, he could see that the boy had inherited his own eyes as they once were, large, brilliant and black. And on that occasion, he again with a full heart acknowledged that God had tempered justice with mercy. This is Joan Evans again. We all admire those who are willing to sacrifice themselves to help others, those who are generous and unselfish. A kind deed is more than the good that is done at the moment, for kindness is something that is passed on from one person to another and can go circulating through the world. People who are cheerful and self-sacrificing are giving to others an inspiration that is passed from one generation to another, an example that can inspire men and women everywhere. And in a home where parents are thoughtful and unselfish, where children are appreciative and thankful and generous, there's a true happiness despite the disappointments and the difficulties of daily life. That's the way every home should be, the way our homes will be if we have started the daily practice of family prayer because with God's help, with God's blessing, the family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood Family Theater has brought you Vincent Price and Donald Reed in Jane Eyre with Joan Evans as your hostess. Others in our cast were Irene Tedrow and Ben Wright. Charlotte Bronte's classic was adapted by Maurice Zim with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman and was directed for Family Theater by J. F. Mansfield. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who felt in need for this type of program by the Mutual Network which has responded to this need and by the hundreds of stars of stage, screen and radio who have so unselfishly given of their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Tony LaFranco expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home and inviting you to join us next week at this time when Family Theater will present Anne Blythe, Mal Farar and Charles Winninger in Stolen Symphony. Join us, won't you? Family Theater is broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network, the Mutual Broadcasting System.