Джейн Эйр / Jane Eyre

Then she told me that old Mr. Rivers, the father of Diana, Mary and St. John, had recently died, which explained their mourning clothes. Their mother had died many years ago, and Hannah had been their nurse since they were little. St. John was to take his father’s place as vicar of Morton, the nearby village, and would soon move into the very vicarage I had called at. Diana and Mary were both governesses, and were usually away, but had come home for their father’s funeral.

At that moment St. John and his sisters came in from walking. They made a great fuss of me and said that, as a guest, I must not sit in the kitchen. Diana took me into the drawing room, and left me there with St. John while she went to make some tea.

St. John was reading, and I was able to study him closely. He was about twenty-eight, tall and slim, with a face like a Greek statue. He had pale eyes, a long, straight nose, and a broad forehead surrounded by fair curls. But although he was handsome, there was something cold and hard about him.

Diana came in with tea and cakes, and Mary soon joined us. Before we ate, I thanked them all heartily for their kindness, and said I hoped I would not have to impose on them for too much longer.

“As soon as you are ready,” said St. John, “you can tell us where you live, and we’ll take you home.”

“I’m afraid I cannot,” I said, “for I have no home.”

“None at all?” he asked. “Are you a spinster?”

“Why, St. John, she’s hardly old enough to be married!” Diana said, laughing at his seriousness.

“I’m not married,” I said, but the thought of this made tears come to my eyes.

“Don’t question poor Miss Elliot so,” said Mary.

“I will tell you more,” I said, quietly. “I was at Lowood School, and worked there as a teacher. Then I went to be a governess, and I found a good position. But, four days ago, I had to leave. I cannot tell you why. I did no wrong – I am not a criminal. But it is not possible for me to look to the past. I must find work, and make my own living again.”

“‘Indeed you will stay here,” said Diana, putting her white hand on my head.

“You SHALL,” repeated Mary.

“My sisters, you see, have a pleasure in keeping you,” said Mr. John. “I would rather put you in the way of keeping yourself.”

“She has already said that she is willing to do anything honest she can do,” answered Diana for me; “and you know, St. John, she has no choice of helpers.”

Now St. John was looking at me with a new interest. “You’re a governess, aren’t you?” he asked. “A teacher?”

“Oh, St. John!” said Diana excitedly. “Do you think she might work at the new school?”

“Miss Elliot,” St. John continued, “when my father came to Morton, some years ago, it had no school, but he managed to establish one – a church school, for the boys of the town. It is paid for by Miss Oliver, whose father owns a needle factory.”

“Oliver’s needle factory!” I said. “I’ve heard of it.”

He looked surprised, but went on: “Following my father’s death, Miss Oliver has offered to provide the funds for a second school – a school for girls. It is to be opened in a month’s time, and I have not yet found a teacher for it. The pay will be thirty pounds a year, and there is a cottage for the schoolmistress to live in. Could you be this schoolmistress?”

“Oh, Mr. Rivers,” I cried, my heart filling with relief. “I must thank you from the bottom of my heart for this offer. And I accept!”

Chapter 30

The more I knew of the inmates of Moor House, the better I liked them. In a few days I had so far recovered my health that I could sit up all day, and walk out sometimes. I shared so much with Diana and Mary. I liked to read what they liked to read; what they enjoyed, delighted me. They admired my painting and drawing. We found it easy to sit and talk for hours together every evening and walk till late in the evening in the moors.

St. John, though, spent most of his time in the vicarage or visiting his parishioners. When he was in, he was often gloomy and serious. His mind always seemed to be working on a higher level; his large, cold eyes concentrated on other thoughts.

The weeks passed by quickly, and Diana and Mary grew sad at the thought of having to leave. They told me that this parting from St. John would be harder than any they had undergone before.

“You see, it will not be very long before he goes abroad,” Diana explained. “He plans to be a missionary, in India. Who knows when we will see each other again?”

Just then, St. John came in, looking even more serious than usual. He had a letter in his hand.

“What is it, brother?” Diana asked.

“Uncle John is dead,” he said, bluntly.

Diana and Mary looked taken aback, although not at all upset. “And…?” asked Mary.

“And nothing,” said St. John firmly. “He has left his whole fortune to another relation.”