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“Yes—yes； but where is Mr。 Briggs？ He perhaps knows more of Mr。 Rochester than you do。”
“Briggs is in London。 I should doubt his knowing anything at all about Mr。 Rochester； it is not in Mr。 Rochester he is interested。 Meantime； you forget essential points in pursuing trifles： you do not inquire why Mr。 Briggs sought after you—what he wanted with you。”
“Well； what did he want？”
“Merely to tell you that your uncle； Mr。 Eyre of Madeira； is dead； that he has left you all his property； and that you are now rich— merely that—nothing more。”
“I！—rich？”
“Yes； you； rich—quite an heiress。”
Silence succeeded。
“You must prove your identity of course；” resumed St。 John presently： “a step which will offer no difficulties； you can then enter on immediate possession。 Your fortune is vested in the English funds； Briggs has the will and the necessary documents。”
Here was a new card turned up！ It is a fine thing； reader； to be lifted in a moment from indigence to wealth—a very fine thing； but not a matter one can prehend； or consequently enjoy； all at once。 And then there are other chances in life far more thrilling and rapture…giving： this is solid； an affair of the actual world； nothing ideal about it： all its associations are solid and sober； and its manifestations are the same。 One does not jump； and spring； and shout hurrah！ at hearing one has got a fortune； one begins to consider responsibilities； and to ponder business； on a base of steady satisfaction rise certain grave cares； and we contain ourselves； and blood over our bliss with a solemn brow。
Besides； the words Legacy； Bequest； go side by side with the words； Death； Funeral。 My uncle I had heard was dead—my only relative； ever since being made aware of his existence； I had cherished the hope of one day seeing him： now； I never should。 And then this money came only to me： not to me and a rejoicing family； but to my isolated self。 It was a grand boon doubtless； and independence would be glorious—yes； I felt that—that thought swelled my heart。
“You unbend your forehead at last；” said Mr。 Rivers。 “I thought Medusa had looked at you； and that you were turning to stone。 Perhaps now you will ask how much you are worth？”
“How much am I worth？”
“Oh； a trifle！ Nothing of course to speak of—twenty thousand pounds； I think they say—but what is that？”
“Twenty thousand pounds？”
Here was a new stunner—I had been calculating on four or five thousand。 This news actually took my breath for a moment： Mr。 St。 John； whom I had never heard laugh before； laughed now。
“Well；” said he； “if you had mitted 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。”
I again felt rather like an individual of but average gastronomical powers sitting down to feast alone at a table spread with provisions for a hundred。 Mr。 Rivers rose now and put his cloak on。
“If it were not such a very wild night；” he said； “I would send Hannah down to keep you pany： 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。
“Well？”
“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。”
“Another time。”
“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！”
“I would rather Diana or Mary informed you。”
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。 prised 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 plete。 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 posed enough。 I resumed—
“Your mother was my father’s sister？”
“Yes。”
“My aunt； consequently？”
He bowed。
“My uncle John was your uncle John？ You； Diana； and Mary are his sister’s children； as I am his brother’s child？”
“Undeniably。”
“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 wele enough in its way； but sobering from its weight。 I now clapped my hands in sudden joy—my pulse bounded； my veins thrilled。
“Oh； I am glad！—I am glad！” I exclaimed。
St。 John smiled。 “Did I not say you neglected essential points to pursue trifles？” he asked。 “You were serious when I told you you had got a fortune； and now； for a matter of no moment； you are excited。”
“What can you mean？ It may be of no moment to you； you have sisters and don’t care for a cousin； but I had nobody； and now three relations；—or two； if you don’t choose to be counted；—are born into my world full…grown。 I say again； I am glad！”
I walked fast through the room： I stopped； half suffocated with the thoughts that rose faster than I could receive； prehend； settle them：… thoughts of what might； could； would； and should be； and that ere long。 I looked at the blank wall： it seemed a sky thick with ascending stars；—every one lit me to a purpose or delight。 Those who had saved my life； whom； till this hour； I had loved barrenly； I could now benefit。 They were under a yoke；—I co