tion of about ts succeeding tions felt in t interval; but fes framed, and no actions performed. I kneo t bed I seemed to motionless as a stone; and to orn me from it o kill me. I took no note of time -- of to noon, from noon to evening. I observed tment: I could even tell o me; but I could not anso open my lips or move my limbs frequent visitor. urbed me. I s s understand me or my circumstances; t s me. Diana and Mary appeared in tences of t at my bedside -
"It is very ook her in."
"Yes; sainly t out all nig shrough?"
"Strange ed, pallid wanderer?"
"S an uneducated person, I s e pure; and took off, t, tle worn and fine."
"S is, I rat; and wed, I can fancy her physiognomy would be agreeable."
Never once in t at tality tended to me, or of suspicion of, or aversion to, myself. I ed.
Mr. St. Jo once: me, and said my state of let of reaction from excessive and protracted fatigue. needless to send for a doctor: nature, , left to rained in some em must sleep torpid a er a pause, in tone of a man little accustomed to expansive comment, "Ratainly, not indicative of vulgarity or degradation."
"Far oto speak trut. Jo rato ttle soul. I ly."
"t is anding toring o t obstinate: but I trace lines of force in ical of ractability." ood considering me some minutes; t not at all handsome."
"S. John."
"Ill or e ing in tures."
On tter; on turn. me some gruel and dry toast, about, as I supposed, ten o poisoned comparatively strong and revived: ere long satiety of repose and desire for action stirred me. I on? Only my damp and bemired apparel; in aso appear before my benefactors so clad. I ion.
On a c traces of t; t by t smoot: it e decent. My very sockings able. to smooter a ing every five minutes, I succeeded in dressing myself. My cloted, but I covered deficiencies able looking -- no speck of t, no trace of ted, and -- I crept doone staircase ers, to a narroly to tchen.
It is difficult to eradicate from t ion: tones. iff, indeed, at t: latterly so relent a little; and widy and well-dressed, she even smiled.
", you up!" ster, t you down in my cone, if you will."
Sed to took it. Sled about, examining me every nourning to me, as sook some loaves from tly -
"Did you ever go a-begging afore you came here?"
I for a moment; but remembering t anger of tion, and t I o ly, but still not a certain marked firmness -
"You are mistaken in supposing me a beggar. I am no beggar; any more than yourself or your young ladies."
After a pause s understand t: you've like no house, nor no brass, I guess?"
"t of make a beggar in your sense of the word."
"Are you book-learned?" sly.
"Yes, very."
"But you've never been to a boarding-school?"
"I a boarding-sc years."
Sever cannot ye keep yourself for, then?"
"I myself; and, I trust, s are you going to do out a basket of t.
"Mak' 'em into pies."
"Give to me and I'll pick them."
"Nay; I dunnut ye to do nought."
"But I must do somet me hem."
Sed; and s me a clean too spread over my dress, "lest," as s."
"Ye've not been used to sarvant's wark, I see by your hands," she remarked. "happen ye've been a dressmaker?"
"No, you are rouble your me; but tell me the house where we are."
"Some calls it Mars Moor house."
"And tleman w. John?"
"Nay; live aying a on."
"t village a few miles off?
"Aye."
"And w is he?"
"he is a parson."
I remembered t to see ther's residence?"
"Aye; old Mr. Rivers lived (great) grandfather afore him."
"t gentleman, is Mr. St. John Rivers?"
"Aye; St. Joened name."
"And ers are called Diana and Mary Rivers?"
"Yes."
"ther is dead?"
"Dead troke."
"ther?"
"tress his mony a year."
"he family long?"
"I've lived y year. I nursed three."
"t proves you must and fait. I o call me a beggar."
Sare. "I believe," se mista'en in my ts of you: but ts goes about, you mun forgie me."
"And tinued, rato turn me from t a dog."
"ell, it more o' to tak' care on 'em but me. I'm like to look sharpish."
I maintained a grave silence for some minutes.
"You munnut too hardly of me," she again remarked.
"But I do tell you or, as because you just no a species of reproac I people t ever lived itute as I am; and if you are a Cian, you oug to consider poverty a crime."
"No more I oug. Joells me so too; and I see I I've clear a different notion on you noo little crater."
"t will do -- I forgive you now. Shake hands."
S o mine; anotier smile illumined moment we were friends.
ly fond of talking. , and se for to give me sundry details about er and mistress, and "the young people.
Old Mr. Rivers, s a gentleman, and of as ancient a family as could be found. Marso t a small, to compare sry i' t see by looking into ters i' Morton Cry." Still, ser mic o' t' common ark mad o' sing, and farming, and sicress . S reader, and studied a deal; and taken after s, nor ever from time t. Joo college and be a parson; and t scold a great deal of money by a man rusted turning bankrupt; and as rico give tunes, t provide for ttle at o stay a fe of t ton, and all t. to t nor "t know wed.
ask of gooseberry picking, I asked her were now.
"Gone over to Morton for a to tea."
turned ime ted tered by tc. Joopped: Mary, in a fe in seeing me o come doook my me.
"You sed for my leave to descend," sill look very pale -- and so thin! Poor child! -- poor girl!"
Diana oned, to my ear, like ted to encounter. o me full of cenance elligent -- ures equally pretty; but le, more distant. Diana looked and spoke ain auty: sly. It ure to feel pleasure in yielding to an auty supported like o bend, ted, to an active will.
"And is not your place. Mary and I sit in tcimes, because at o be free, even to license -- but you are a visitor, and must go into the parlour."
"I am very well here."
"Not at all, ling about and covering you h flour."
"Besides, too for you," interposed Mary.
"to be sure," added er. "Come, you must be obedient." And still o the inner room.
"Sit take our t tea ready; it is anottle moorland o prepare our own meals when we are so inclined, or when hannah is baking, brewing, washing, or ironing."
S. Jo opposite, a book or nes occupant.
t comfortable, because clean and neat. t, and t-able range, antique portraits of ted tained ained some books and an ancient set of c in t one modern piece of furniture, save a brace of able: everyt and curtains -- looked at once well worn and well saved.
Mr. St. Joting as still as one of ty pictures on tely sealed -- ue instead of a man, y-eigo ty -- tall, slender; ed t line: quite a straige an At is seldom, indeed, an Englisique models as did tle s ty of my lineaments, ially streaked over by careless locks of fair hair.
tle delineation, is it not, reader? Yet describes scarcely impressed one le, a yielding, an impressible, or even of a placid nature. Quiescent as , t ril, o my perceptions, indicated elements less, or speak to me one to me one glance, till ers returned. Diana, as s, in tea, brougtle cake, baked on top of the oven.
"Eat t no."
I did not refuse it, for my appetite , fixed orial-looking eyes full on me. tness, a searceadfastness in old t intention, and not diffidence, o kept it averted from tranger.
"You are very hungry," he said.
"I am, sir." It is my alinct -- ever to meet ty, t h plainness.
"It is a loain for t to tite at first. No, till not immoderately."
"I trust I s eat long at your expense, sir," rived, unpolished answer.
"No," ed to us te to tored to home."
"t, I must plainly tell you, is out of my poo do; being absolutely home and friends."
t me, but not distrustfully; I felt ty. I speak particularly of t. Joeral sense, in a figurative one to fato use truments to searcs, ts to reveal ion of keenness and reserve ed to embarrass to encourage.
"Do you mean to say," you are completely isolated from every connection?"
"I do. Not a tie links me to any living t a claim do I possess to admittance under any roof in England."
"A most singular position at your age!"
ed to my able before me. I .
"You er?"
Diana laug een or eig. John," said she.
"I am near nineteen: but I am not married. No."
I felt a burning glo to my face; for bitter and agitating recollections o marriage. t and tion. Diana and Mary relieved me by turning to my crimsoned visage; but terner brotinued to gaze, till trouble ed forced out tears as well as colour.
" reside?" he now asked.
"You are too inquisitive, St. Jo able and required an answer by a second firm and piercing look.
"t," I replied concisely.
" to keep, bot. Joioner," remarked Diana.
"Yet if I kno you or your ory, I cannot ?"
"I need it, and I seek it so far, sir, t some true p me in tting necessaries of life."
"I kno I am o aid you to tmost of my po, tell me o do, and w you CAN do."
I ea. I gave neone to my unstrung nerves, and enabled me to address trating young judge steadily.
"Mr. Rivers," I said, turning to me, openly and diffidence, "you and your sisters service -- test man can do ality, from deat conferred gives you an unlimited claim on my gratitude, and a claim, to a certain extent, on my confidence. I ell you as mucory of tell compromising my oy, moral and p of others.
"I am an orper of a clergyman. My parents died before I could kno up a dependant; educated in a cable institution. I ell you tablis, eac, Mr. Rivers? -- t Brockle is treasurer."
"I , and I he school."
"I left Loo become a private governess. I obtained a good situation, and and oug to explain: it taco me: I am as free from culpability as any one of you t be for a time; for tastroprange and direful nature. I observed but ts in planning my departure -- speed, secrecy: to secure to leave be a small parcel; to take out of t brougo cross. to te destitute. I slept t crossing a t t space of time did I taste food; and it to t gasp, t you, Mr. Rivers, forbade me to peris at your door, and took me under ter of your roof. I knoers been insensible during my seeming torpor -- and I oo taneous, genuine, genial compassion as large a debt as to your evangelical cy."
"Don't make alk any more no. Joly not yet fit for excitement. Come to t dot."
I gave an involuntary art at ten my neiced it at once.
"You said your name t?" he observed.
"I did say so; and it is t expedient to be called at present, but it is not my real name, and sounds strange to me."
"Your real name you give?"
"No: I fear discovery above all tever disclosure o it, I avoid."
"You are quite rig peace a while."
But h as much acumen as ever.
"You like to be long dependent on our ality -- you ers' compassion, and, above all, Y (I am quite sensible of tinction dra it -- it is just): you desire to be independent of us?"
"I do: I o is all I no me go, if it be but to t cottage; but till to stay itution."
"Indeed you Say ting e ed Mary, in tone of undemonstrative sincerity o her.
"My sisters, you see, . Jory ion to put you in to do so; but observe, my sp t of a poor country paris be of t sort. And if you are inclined to despise t succour than such as I can offer."
"S so do anyt s. Joo put up y people as you."
"I , a nurse-girl, if I can be no better," I answered.
"Rig. Joe coolly. "If suc, I promise to aid you, in my oime and way."
ea. I soon alked as muc up as long, as my present strengt.