Franklin Library Jane Eyre Novels & Stories

I wondered what was wrong with him. 'He might don't like me or probably he doesn't like me in his family.' My thoughts strayed but I completed my breakfast and asked Ivy if there was a library. "Sure let me show you the way" she replied and led me across a snaky corridor and we were there. It was like heaven. A vintage heaven with large shelves with different kinds of books. I skimmed through the mundane section where I found Tess of D'Urbervilles. I wanted to read this for years, but the book was reserved, so I started on Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. I was in the middle when I felt like someone was staring at me. I turned around to see Jeremy.

He showed her his make her believe that he wasn't lying. "Maybe it was a network glitch then. Let's continue studying. "Jane said but the attention outside the library was getting louder and a girl entered the library. She whispered some words into her friend's ear, her friend.was surprised and murmured to the rest. Everyone gasped and stood up urgently and left. Jane looked at their backs and wondered what was wrong so she shifted towards the window but then Mira ran in and screamed. "Isabella Ryan is here. " "What?"

Jane had been missing from her apartment for hours, and the head of security was only informing me of it now. I rose from my chair. My bedroom had been completely silent before the phone rang. My thoughts were still on Jane and that damned black wolf who had invaded her apartment. I wanted to drag her with me to Eldrynhouse, but I didn't want her to compare me to the male who had kidnapped her. She had to come by her own choice. But now, hearing that she had disappeared from the building, the regret of not having forced her to come was eating away at my soul.

It was Franklin’s cologne, stale coffee, and something cold, like resentment. Every muscle in my body locked. The smile died on my lips. Ice flooded my veins. I jerked forward, spinning around on the window seat, the book tumbling from my hands to the floor with a dull thud. Franklin stood there, backlit by the dim hall light, his face carved in shadow. But I could see his eyes. They were sharp, analyzing, capturing every flicker of my shock. “Franklin.” His name came out as a breath, stripped of all warmth.

Inside: sepia-toned photographs, a handful of ink-faded letters, and at the bottom, a dog-eared copy of Jane Eyre with a broken spine from years of opening it to the same passages. I picked up the book. The cover was worn at the corners, the spine creased in three places where it had been opened most often. I turned it over in my hands and felt the familiar weight of it, this book I had first read at fifteen and had returned to every year until I was twenty-two and had not opened since because there had been no room in Josiah's house for the kind of woman who read Jane Eyre and meant it. My phone lit up on the nightstand.

~Richard~ I swallowed and nodded hastily, dismissing the thoughts of how things ended. “Yeah, of course. I felt the emotions from your characters right from the beginning of the book.” I looked at her and saw a knowing smile on her face, like she could see right past the façade I put up. “Okay.” She shrugged, still refusing to look away. I reached into the bag I had brought with me and pulled out a book, a favorite from when I was much younger: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë.

And then she came back, and reluctantly had said he can go out in the backyard for a while. So I have been sitting here alone with four books laying next to me, all the books that I have read, and finished in the last week. I had pulled Jane Eyre from another fancy glass case not giving a second thought if he had something to say about it when he found out. The binding is so old, and worn making it more beautiful than any other, cheap, paperback copy you would find in a bookstore. I couldn’t resist feeling all the intricate flowery looking designs, on the brown colored cover of the book, and turning the yellow colored pages getting a whiff of that wonderful old book smell. It’s a first editi

It smelled like vanilla I put it back quickly. No. I wasn't going to get comfortable here. This wasn't my home no matter how nice it looked. I walked back into the bedroom and that's when I saw the bookshelf. A whole wall of books. How did I miss that ? Oh right I was too busy having a mental breakdown. I walked over and looked at the titles. Jane Eyre. Wuthering Heights. Beauty and the Beast. Phantom of the Opera. Rebecca. These all looked familiar. I pulled out Jane Eyre and a piece of paper fell out. Fancy handwriting on expensive paper.

The warm glow is enough for me, as my feet shuffle towards the books. All first collections. My fingers reach for their spines as I go from row to row, my eyes getting even wider as I move. Jane Austen’s first collection. To Kill a Mockingbird. Pride and Prejudice. Crime and Punishment. Ulysses. The Great Gatsby. These had to have cost a fortune. I reach the end of the top row and grab a book. Jane Eyre. A door cracks open in a corner, but it sounds so far away that I don’t move. Until a second later when I hear footsteps right behind me.

her. Going back is death, going forth is death. Jane balled her fingers into a fist, the resentment of being sold by her own aunt and uncle filling her heart. She was too focused in her thoughts that she didn't hear as Stanley continued to speak, "Then would you like to take the tea in the sunrise room, young master? It should satiate you." "Tea," Victor repeated dully before nodding. He then nudge her hand that was holding him and this time, quickly, Jane held his hand.