"Well," said he, "if you had committed a murder, and I had told you your crime was discovered, you could scarcely look more aghast."
"It is a large sum - don't you think there is a mistake?"
"No mistake at all."
"Perhaps you have read the figures wrong - it may be two thousand!"
"It is written in letters, not figures, - twenty thousand."
"If it were not such a very wild night," he said, "I would send Hannah down to keep you company: you look too desperately miserable to be left alone. But Hannah, poor woman! could not stride the drifts so well as I: her legs are not quite so long: so I must e'en leave you to your sorrows. Good-night."
He was lifting the latch: a sudden thought occurred to me. "Stop one minute!" I cried.
"It puzzles me to know why Mr. Briggs wrote to you about me; or how he knew you, or could fancy that you, living in such an out-of-the-way place, had the power to aid in my discovery."
"Oh! I am a clergyman," he said; "and the clergy are often appealed to about odd matters." Again the latch rattled.
"No; that does not satisfy me!" I exclaimed: and indeed there was something in the hasty and unexplanatory reply which, instead of allaying, piqued my curiosity more than ever.
"It is a very strange piece of business," I added; "I must know more about it."
"No; to-night! - to-night!" and as he turned from the door, I placed myself between it and him. He looked rather embarrassed.
"You certainly shall not go till you have told me all," I said.
"I would rather not just now."
"You shall! - you must!"
Of course these objections wrought my eagerness to a climax: gratified it must be, and that without delay; and I told him so.
"But I apprised you that I was a hard man," said he, "difficult to persuade."
"And I am a hard woman, - impossible to put off."
"And then," he pursued, "I am cold: no fervour infects me."
"Whereas I am hot, and fire dissolves ice. The blaze there has thawed all the snow from your cloak; by the same token, it has streamed on to my floor, and made it like a trampled street. As you hope ever to be forgiven, Mr. Rivers, the high crime and misdemeanour of spoiling a sanded kitchen, tell me what I wish to know."
"Well, then," he said, "I yield; if not to your earnestness, to your perseverance: as stone is worn by continual dropping. Besides, you must know some day, - as well now as later. Your name is Jane Eyre?"
"Of course: that was all settled before."
"You are not, perhaps, aware that I am your namesake? - that I was christened St. John Eyre Rivers?"
"No, indeed! I remember now seeing the letter E. comprised in your initials written in books you have at different times lent me; but I never asked for what name it stood. But what then? Surely - "
I stopped: I could not trust myself to entertain, much less to express, the thought that rushed upon me - that embodied itself, - that, in a second, stood out a strong, solid probability. Circumstances knit themselves, fitted themselves, shot into order: the chain that had been lying hitherto a formless lump of links was drawn out straight, - every ring was perfect, the connection complete. I knew, by instinct, how the matter stood, before St. John had said another word; but I cannot expect the reader to have the same intuitive perception, so I must repeat his explanation.
"My mother's name was Eyre; she had two brothers; one a clergyman, who married Miss Jane Reed, of Gateshead; the other, John Eyre, Esq., merchant, late of Funchal, Madeira. Mr. Briggs, being Mr. Eyre's solicitor, wrote to us last August to inform us of our uncle's death, and to say that he had left his property to his brother the clergyman's orphan daughter, overlooking us, in consequence of a quarrel, never forgiven, between him and my father. He wrote again a few weeks since, to intimate that the heiress was lost, and asking if we knew anything of her. A name casually written on a slip of paper has enabled me to find her out. You know the rest." Again he was going, but I set my back against the door.
"Do let me speak," I said; "let me have one moment to draw breath and reflect." I paused - he stood before me, hat in hand, looking composed enough. I resumed -
"Your mother was my father's sister?"
"My aunt, consequently?"
"My uncle John was your uncle John? You, Diana, and Mary are his sister's children, as I am his brother's child?"
"You three, then, are my cousins; half our blood on each side flows from the same source?"
"We are cousins; yes."
I surveyed him. It seemed I had found a brother: one I could be proud of, - one I could love; and two sisters, whose qualities were such, that, when I knew them but as mere strangers, they had inspired me with genuine affection and admiration. The two girls, on whom, kneeling down on the wet ground, and looking through the low, latticed window of Moor House kitchen, I had gazed with so bitter a mixture of interest and despair, were my near kinswomen; and the young and stately gentleman who had found me almost dying at his threshold was my blood relation. Glorious discovery to a lonely wretch! This was wealth indeed! - wealth to the heart! - a mine of pure, genial affections. This was a blessing, bright, vivid, and exhilarating; - not like the ponderous gift of gold: rich and welcome enough in its way, but sobering from its weight. I now clapped my hands in sudden joy - my pulse bounded, my veins thrilled.