“No sight so sad as that of a naughty child,” he
began, “especially a naughty little girl. Do you know
where the wicked go after death?”
“They go to hell,” was my ready and orthodox
answer.
“And what is hell? Can you tell me
that?”
“A pit full of fire.”
“And should you like to fall into that pit, and to be
burning there for ever?”
“No, sir.”
“What must you do to avoid it?”
I deliberated a moment; my answer, when it did come, was
objectionable: “I must keep in good health, and not
die.”
Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte