1 , and the Millcote town clock is now just striking eight.
2 Again came the blank of a pause: the clock struck eight strokes.
3 Any one may serve: I have served here eight years; now all I want is to serve elsewhere.
4 During these eight years my life was uniform: but not unhappy, because it was not inactive.
5 And now I felt that it was not enough; I tired of the routine of eight years in one afternoon.
6 Forgive me for my passionate language: I was a child then; eight, nine years have passed since that day.
7 There were but eight; yet, somehow, as they flocked in, they gave the impression of a much larger number.
8 I wished to see Jane Eyre, and I fancy a likeness where none exists: besides, in eight years she must be so changed.
9 Wake Sophie when you go upstairs, under pretence of requesting her to rouse you in good time to-morrow; for you must be dressed and have finished breakfast before eight.
10 I remained an inmate of its walls, after its regeneration, for eight years: six as pupil, and two as teacher; and in both capacities I bear my testimony to its value and importance.
11 I looked at my pupil, who did not at first appear to notice me: she was quite a child, perhaps seven or eight years old, slightly built, with a pale, small-featured face, and a redundancy of hair falling in curls to her waist.
12 I am only bound to invoke Memory where I know her responses will possess some degree of interest; therefore I now pass a space of eight years almost in silence: a few lines only are necessary to keep up the links of connection.