Chapter 34 Diana, Mary and St John

1 The more I knew of Diana and Mary, the better I liked them. In a few days I had recovered my health enough to sit up all day, and walk out sometimes. I could join the sisters in all their occupations, and in doing this I now enjoyed for the first time the pleasure arising from perfect agreement in taste, feelings and ideas.

2 They loved their home and the wild country around it, and I too soon learned to feel the attraction of the place. Indoors we agreed equally well. I liked to read what they liked to read. They were both more accomplished than I, but I followed with eagerness the path of knowledge that they had travelled before me. Diana offered to teach me German, and I in turn gave lessons in drawing to Mary. Thus occupied, days passed like hours, and weeks like days.

3 As to Mr St John, the close friendship which had arisen between me and his sisters did not include him. One reason was that he was seldom at home. He spent a great deal of his time in visiting the sick and poor in his neighbourhood. No bad weather seemed to keep him from these priestly duties.

4 But besides his frequent absences, there was another hindrance to friendship with him. He seemed of a lonely nature, living a life apart. The first real sign of his character came when I heard him preach in his own church. He spoke with calmness that grew into force. My heart was stirred, my mind astonished, by his words, but neither was softened.

5 Meanwhile a month had gone by. Diana and Mary were soon to return to their posts in the south of England. St John had said nothing to me about my future, and this problem was now becoming urgent.

6 One morning, being left alone with him for a few minutes, I was bold enough to approach the corner of the sitting room which was kept specially for his use. I hesitated to begin, but he saved me the trouble.

7 Looking up as I came near, he said:

8 'You have a question to ask me?'

9 'Yes. I wish to know whether you have heard of any employment for me.'

10 'I found something for you three weeks ago, but as you seemed both happy and useful here, and your society gave my sisters unusual pleasure, I judged it unnecessary to break in on your comfort until they left.'

11 'What is the work you have found for me?'

12 'It is nothing very profitable, but I consider that nothing that can improve our race is too humble an activity. I believe you will accept it for a time, though I do not think it will satisfy your nature permanently.'

13 'Do explain,' I urged.

14 'I will. I shall not stay long at Morton now that my father is dead, but while I am there I shall do my best to improve it. I have already started a school for poor boys, and I mean now to open a second one for girls. I have hired a building, with a cottage for the school teacher. Her salary will be thirty pounds a year. A rich lady in the neighbourhood is helping with expenses. Will you be the school teacher?'

15 'I thank you for the proposal, Mr Rivers, and I accept it with all my heart.'

16 'But you understand me? It is a village school. Your pupils will be only poor girls—labourers' and farmers' daughters. Sewing, reading, writing, simple arithmetic, will be all that you will have to teach. What will you do with your accomplishments?'

17 'Save them till they are wanted. They will keep.'

18 He smiled now, well pleased.

19 Diana and Mary became sadder and more silent as the day approached for leaving their brother and their home. As if to prove the truth of the old saying that 'misfortunes never come singly', news came at this time to add to their disappointments. St John entered one day with a letter.

20 'Your Uncle John is dead,' he said. 'Read.'

21 Both sisters did so in silence. All smiled rather sadly.

22 'After all, we are no poorer than we were before,' remarked Mary.

23 Diana turned to me.

24 'Jane, you will be surprised at us and our mysteries,' she said, 'and think us hard hearted for not feeling more at the death of so near a relation, but we have never seen or known him. He was our mother's brother. My father and he quarrelled because it was through his advice that my father lost all his money. They parted in anger and were never friends afterwards. He became rich, but did not marry. My father always hoped that he would put right the wrong he had done, by leaving us his possessions when he died. This letter informs us that he has left everything to his only other relation. He had a right, of course, to do as he pleased, yet we cannot help feeling for the moment a little disappointed. Even a small amount of money would have made a great deal of difference to us.'

25 This explanation being given, the subject was not mentioned any more. The next day I left to begin my new life, and the sisters set out for the south.