Chapter 33 The Rivers family

1 The memory of three days and nights following this is very faint in my mind. I knew I was in a small room and in a narrow bed. I observed when anyone entered or left; I could understand what was said when someone was near me; but to open my lips or move any part of my body was impossible.

2 Hannah, the servant, was my most frequent visitor. I felt that she was prejudiced against me. Diana and Mary appeared once or twice a day. They would whisper sentences at my bedside, expressing curiosity as to who I might be, and thankfulness that they had not failed to give me shelter. Never once in their conversation did I hear a word of regret at the kindness they had shown me, or of suspicion or dislike of myself. I was comforted.

3 Mr St John came only once. He looked at me, and said that my state of weakness was the result of extreme and continued weariness. He said it was unnecessary to send for a doctor:

4 'Nature will manage best if left to herself. There is no disease.' These opinions he stated in a few words, in a quiet, low voice. He stood observing me for some minutes, then added:

5 'She seems sensible, but is not at all good looking.'

6 On the third day I was better; on the fourth I could speak, move, sit up in bed, and turn. I began to feel hungry, and when in the afternoon I found on a chair by me all my own clothes, cleaned of the mud of my wanderings, I succeeded with some difficulty in dressing myself. Feeling once more respectable, I crept down some stone stairs and found my way to the kitchen.

7 Hannah was baking. When she saw me come in tidy and well dressed, she looked more approving. She even smiled.

8 'Well, you have got up!' she said. 'You are better, then. You may sit in my chair by the fire, if you will.'

9 She moved about busily, examining me occasionally out of the corner of her eye. Turning to me as she took some bread from the stove, she asked:

10 'Did you ever go begging before you came here?'

11 I was annoyed for a moment, but remembering how I had first appeared to her, I answered quietly but firmly:

12 'You are mistaken in supposing me a beggar. I am no more so than yourself or your young ladies.'

13 After a pause she said:

14 'I don't understand. You have no house or money, I imagine?'

15 'The lack of house or money does not make me a beggar in your meaning of the word.'

16 'Are you educated?' she asked, a little later.

17 'Yes.'

18 She opened her eyes wide.

19 'Then why cannot you support yourself?'

20 'I have supported myself, and I hope I shall do so again. And now, never mind what I have been, but tell me the name of the family whom you serve.'

21 'Their name is Rivers.'

22 'Does the gentleman live here?'

23 'No, he is only staying a little while. He is a clergyman, and works at Morton, a few miles away.'

24 'Their father is dead?'

25 'Yes, he died three weeks ago.'

26 'They have no mother?'

27 'She has been dead many years. I have been here for thirty years, and looked after all three.'

28 'That proves that you have been an honest and faithful servant. I say that in your favour, though you had the rudeness to call me a beggar, and refused me help when I was in trouble.'

29 She gave me a look of surprise.

30 'I believe I was mistaken,' she said. 'You must not think too badly of me.'

31 I continued rather severely:

32 'But I do think badly of you—not so much because you refused me shelter, but because you accused me of having no possessions. You should not consider poverty a crime.'

33 'That is true,' she admitted. 'Mr St John told me so, too. I see that I was wrong.'

34 'Enough. I forgive you. Shake hands.'

35 She put out her rough hand and smiled. From that moment we were friends.

36 Hannah was a great talker, and as she worked, she told me the history of the Rivers family. Their father had been a gentleman of good family, who had lost a great deal of money by trusting a man who gave him bad advice. As he was not rich enough to give his daughters fortunes, they had taken places as governesses. They were only now at home for a few weeks on account of their father's death. To be united and in their own house was their greatest happiness.

37 In a little time the two ladies, who had been out for a walk to Morton, returned with their brother. Mr St John, when he saw me, merely bowed and passed through the kitchen, but his sisters stopped. Mary quietly expressed the pleasure she felt in seeing me able to come down. Diana took my hand and shook her head at me.

38 'You should have waited for my permission to come down,' she said. 'You still look very pale. And why are you in here? Mary and I sit in the kitchen sometimes, because at home we like to be free, but you are a guest, and must go into the sitting room.'

39 Still holding my hand, she made me rise, and led me into the inner room. She closed the door, leaving me alone with Mr St John, who sat opposite me reading. I examined him and the room.

40 The sitting room was rather small and plainly furnished. Everything looked both well worn and well cared for. Mr St John, motionless as stone, was young, perhaps twenty-eight to thirty, with pure, straight features. His eyes were blue, his forehead high and colourless, his hair fair. He gave one a feeling, not of gentleness, but of hidden force. He did not speak one word to me till his sisters returned, bringing tea.

41 I ate eagerly. Mr Rivers now closed his book and directed his eyes full upon me.

42 'You are very hungry,' he said.

43 'I trust I shall not eat long at your expense, sir,' was my awkward reply.

44 'No,' he said coolly. 'When you have told us the address of your friends, we can write to them, and you can go back to them.'

45 'That, I must tell you plainly, is impossible.'

46 The three looked at me, not with distrust, but with curiosity. I speak particularly of the ladies. St John's eyes seemed to be less able to express his own thoughts than to search out those of others.

47 'Do you mean to say that you are completely without family?'

48 'I have no tie to any living person in the whole of England.'

49 'You are not married?' He looked quickly at my hands before he spoke.

50 As I replied to this, I felt my face burn. They all saw my confusion. Diana and Mary relieved me by turning their eyes elsewhere, but their colder and severer brother continued to fix his eyes on me.

51 'Where did you live last?' he now asked.

52 'You are too curious, St John,' murmured Mary in a low voice.

53 'That is my secret,' I replied shortly.

54 'Which, in my opinion, you have a right to keep from everybody, if you wish,' remarked Diana.

55 'If I know nothing of you and your history, I cannot help you,' he said. 'And you need help, don't you?'

56 'I need help from some good person in finding work that I can do, and that will enable me to support myself.'

57 'Tell me, then, what you can do.'

58 'Mr Rivers,' I said, turning to him, and looking at him openly, 'you and your sisters have done me a great service. You have a certain claim, not only to my thanks, but also to my confidence. I will tell you as much about myself as I can without harming my peace of mind, and the private affairs of myself and others.

59 'I am an orphan, educated at Lowood School. I left it nearly a year ago to become a governess. I was forced to leave my situation for a reason that I cannot explain. I was not in any way to blame. I thought only of speed and secrecy in getting away, and in my troubled state of mind I neglected to take out of the coach by which I travelled, the small amount of my possessions that I was able to bring away with me. In this position I found myself helpless and with failing strength, until you, Mr Rivers, took me under the shelter of your roof.'

60 'Don't make her talk any more, St John,' said Diana, as I paused. 'She is clearly not yet fit for excitement. Come to the fire, and sit down now, Miss Elliott.'

61 I made a sudden movement of surprise. I had forgotten my new name. Mr Rivers, whom nothing seemed to escape, noticed it at once.

62 'You said your name is Jane Elliott?' he remarked,

63 'I did say so, and it is the name by which I think it wise to be called at present.'

64 'You would not like to be our guest for very long?'

65 'All I ask is that you will show me some means of getting work. Till then, allow me to stay here. I am afraid of being homeless again.'

66 'Indeed, you shall stay here,' said Diana. 'You shall,' repeated Mary.

67 'My sisters, you see, have a pleasure in keeping you,' said Mr St John. 'I prefer to put you in a position to support yourself, and shall try to do so, but I work in a poor district, and my help must be of the humblest sort.'

68 I repeated my willingness to accept any means of employment that he might offer me, and soon after went back upstairs, as I had nearly come to the end of my strength again.