Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1943)

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JANE EYRE She was ready to marry him without knowing what th tormenting secret in his lif was, the secret that was t bring horror to their wedding day Fiction Version by Dan Senseney A Twentieth Century-Fox picture. Screenplay by Aldous Huxley, Robert Stevenson and John Houseman. From the novel by Charlotte Bronte. Directed by Robert Stevenson. Copyright 1943 by Twentieth Century-Fox Rim Corporation. 56 MY NAME is Jane Eyre. I was alone in the world except for my Aunt Reed who hated me and who put me in an orphanage where I spent long bitter years befriended by only one man, gentle Dr. Rivers. When I was eighteen, I went as governess to Thornfield Hall. My charge was small Adele, ward of Mr. Edward Rochester, master of the Hall, who came to it only on short sudden visits. He was a dark, brooding type of man, by turns cold and indifferent, warm and friendly to me. The only other residents were Mrs. Fairfax, the housekeeper, the servants and the "sewing woman" Grace Poole who lived alone in the mysterious Old Wing. It was on Mr. Rochester's first visit that the near-tragedy happened. Awakening one night to the smell of smoke I sped to his room to find his bed ablaze. I roused him and together we beat out the flames. He left me then and rushed to the Old Wing; but even on his return he offered no real explanation for what had happened. He told me about Adele, though, how he had met her mother in France and how she had deserted him, leaving Adele, who, said he, "she declared was my child." Then with a strange expression he said, "You have saved my life tonight. I knew from the first you would do me good at some time. Goodnight . . . Jane." The next morning he rode away and it was six months before he came to Thornfield again, this time with a party, led by Miss Blanche Ingr Through the, gay days that follow I scarcely saw Mr. Rochester, for was constantly at Miss Ingram's si There was no reason, I told myself, f the sharp jealousy I felt, yet on tl special night it seemed that the si, of them was more than I could I slipped away to the library, o to be followed by Mr. Rochester. ' are depressed," he said. But there no time for him to say anything furthe j for we were interrupted by the ai ' nouncement of a visitor — a Mr. Masq ! I of Jamaica. He left me then, with a frighteni]| | expression on his face. I could nj sleep, thinking of it — it was indeed