Jane Eyre - Page 401/412

The water stood in my eyes to hear this avowal of his dependence;

just as if a royal eagle, chained to a perch, should be forced to

entreat a sparrow to become its purveyor. But I would not be

lachrymose: I dashed off the salt drops, and busied myself with

preparing breakfast.

Most of the morning was spent in the open air. I led him out of the

wet and wild wood into some cheerful fields: I described to him how

brilliantly green they were; how the flowers and hedges looked

refreshed; how sparklingly blue was the sky. I sought a seat for

him in a hidden and lovely spot, a dry stump of a tree; nor did I

refuse to let him, when seated, place me on his knee. Why should I,

when both he and I were happier near than apart? Pilot lay beside

us: all was quiet. He broke out suddenly while clasping me in his

arms "Cruel, cruel deserter! Oh, Jane, what did I feel when I discovered

you had fled from Thornfield, and when I could nowhere find you;

and, after examining your apartment, ascertained that you had taken

no money, nor anything which could serve as an equivalent! A pearl

necklace I had given you lay untouched in its little casket; your

trunks were left corded and locked as they had been prepared for the

bridal tour. What could my darling do, I asked, left destitute and

penniless? And what did she do? Let me hear now."

Thus urged, I began the narrative of my experience for the last

year. I softened considerably what related to the three days of

wandering and starvation, because to have told him all would have

been to inflict unnecessary pain: the little I did say lacerated

his faithful heart deeper than I wished.

I should not have left him thus, he said, without any means of

making my way: I should have told him my intention. I should have

confided in him: he would never have forced me to be his mistress.

Violent as he had seemed in his despair, he, in truth, loved me far

too well and too tenderly to constitute himself my tyrant: he would

have given me half his fortune, without demanding so much as a kiss

in return, rather than I should have flung myself friendless on the

wide world. I had endured, he was certain, more than I had

confessed to him.

"Well, whatever my sufferings had been, they were very short," I

answered: and then I proceeded to tell him how I had been received

at Moor House; how I had obtained the office of schoolmistress, &c.

The accession of fortune, the discovery of my relations, followed in

due order. Of course, St. John Rivers' name came in frequently in

the progress of my tale. When I had done, that name was immediately

taken up.