“That; I must plainly tell you; is out of my power to do; being absolutely without home and friends。”
The three looked at me; but not distrustfully; I felt there was no suspicion in their glances: there was more of curiosity。 I speak particularly of the young ladies。 St。 John’s eyes; though clear enough in a literal sense; in a figurative one were difficult to fathom。 He seemed to use them rather as instruments to search other people’s thoughts; than as agents to reveal his own: the which bination of keenness and reserve was considerably more calculated to embarrass than to encourage。
“Do you mean to say;” he asked; “that you are pletely isolated from every connection?”
“I do。 Not a tie links me to any living thing: not a claim do I possess to admittance under any roof in England。”
“A most singular position at your age!”
Here I saw his glance directed to my hands; which were folded on the table before me。 I wondered what he sought there: his words soon explained the quest。
“You have never been married? You are a spinster?”
Diana laughed。 “Why; she can’t he above seventeen or eighteen years old; St。 John;” said she。
“I am near nieen: but I am not married。 No。”
I felt a burning glow mount to my face; for bitter and agitating recollections were awakened by the allusion to marriage。 They all saw the embarrassment and the emotion。 Diana and Mary relieved me by turning their eyes elsewhere than to my crimsoned visage; but the colder and sterner brother continued to gaze; till the trouble he had excited forced out tears as well as colour。
“Where did you last reside?” he now asked。
“You are too inquisitive; St。 John;” murmured Mary in a low voice; but he leaned over the table and required an answer by a second firm and piercing look。
“The name of the place where; and of the person with whom I lived; is my secret;” I replied concisely。
“Which; if you like; you have; in my opinion; a right to keep; both from St。 John and every other questioner;” remarked Diana。
“Yet if I know nothing about you or your history; I cannot help you;” he said。 “And you need help; do you not?”
“I need it; and I seek it so far; sir; that some true philanthropist will put me in the way of getting work which I can do; and the remuneration for which will keep me; if but in the barest necessaries of life。”
“I know not whether I am a true philanthropist; yet I am willing to aid you to the utmost of my power in a purpose so honest。 First; then; tell me what you have been accustomed to do; and what you can do。”
I had now swallowed my tea。 I was mightily refreshed by the beverage; as much so as a giant with wine: it gave new tone to my unstrung nerves; and enabled me to address this perating young judge steadily。
“Mr。 Rivers;” I said; turning to him; and looking at him; as he looked at me; openly and without diffidence; “you and your sisters have done me a great service—the greatest man can do his fellow… being; you have rescued me; by your noble hospitality; from death。 This benefit conferred gives you an unlimited claim on my gratitude; and a claim; to a certain extent; on my confidence。 I will tell you as much of the history of the wanderer you have harboured; as I can tell without promising my own peace of mind—my own security; moral and physical; and that of others。
“I am an orphan; the daughter of a clergyman。 My parents died before I could know them。 I was brought up a dependant; educated in a charitable institution。 I will even tell you the name of the establishment; where I passed six years as a pupil; and two as a teacher—Lowood Orphan Asylum;—shire: you will have heard of it; Mr。 Rivers?—the Rev。 Robert Brocklehurst is the treasurer。”
“I have heard of Mr。 Brocklehurst; and I have seen the school。”
“I left Lowood nearly a year since to bee a private governess。 I obtained a good situation; and was happy。 This place I was obliged to leave four days before I came here。 The reason of my departure I cannot and ought not to explain: it would be useless; dangerous; and would sound incredible。 No blame attached to me: I am as free from culpability as any one of you three。 Miserable I am; and must be for a time; for the catastrophe which drove me from a house I had found a paradise was of a strange and direful nature。 I observed but two points in planning my departure—speed; secrecy: to secure these; I had to leave behind me everything I possessed except a small parcel; which; in my hurry and trouble of mind; I forgot to take out of the coach that brought me to Whitcross。 To this neighbourhood; then; I came; quite destitute。 I slept two nights in the open air; and wandered about two days without crossing a threshold: but twice in that space of time did I taste food; and it was when brought by hunger; exhaustion; and despair almost to the last gasp; that you; Mr。 Rivers; forbade me to perish of want at your door; and took me under the shelter of your roo