“Did he teach you?”

“He did not understand German.”

“Did he teach you nothing?”

“A little Hindostanee.”

“Rivers taught you Hindostanee?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And his sisters also?”

“No.”

“Only you?”

“Only me.”

“Did you ask to learn?”

“No.”

“He wished to teach you?”

“Yes.”

A second pause.

“Why did he wish it?  Of what use could Hindostanee be to you?”

“He intended me to go with him to India.”

“Ah! here I reach the root of the matter.  He wanted you to marry him?”

“He asked me to marry him.”

“That is a fiction —­ an impudent invention to vex me.”

“I beg your pardon, it is the literal truth:  he asked me more than once, and was as stiff about urging his point as ever you could be.”

“Miss Eyre, I repeat it, you can leave me.  How often am I to say the same thing?  Why do you remain pertinaciously perched on my knee, when I have given you notice to quit?”

“Because I am comfortable there.”

“No, Jane, you are not comfortable there, because your heart is not with me:  it is with this cousin —­ this St. John.  Oh, till this moment, I thought my little Jane was all mine!  I had a belief she loved me even when she left me:  that was an atom of sweet in much bitter.  Long as we have been parted, hot tears as I have wept over our separation, I never thought that while I was mourning her, she was loving another!  But it is useless grieving.  Jane, leave me:  go and marry Rivers.”

“Shake me off, then, sir, —­ push me away, for I’ll not leave you of my own accord.”

“Jane, I ever like your tone of voice:  it still renews hope, it sounds so truthful.  When I hear it, it carries me back a year.  I forget that you have formed a new tie.  But I am not a fool —­ go —­ "

“Where must I go, sir?”

“Your own way —­ with the husband you have chosen.”

“Who is that?”

“You know —­ this St. John Rivers.”

“He is not my husband, nor ever will be.  He does not love me:  I do not love him.  He loves (as he can love, and that is not as you love) a beautiful young lady called Rosamond.  He wanted to marry me only because he thought I should make a suitable missionary’s wife, which she would not have done.  He is good and great, but severe; and, for me, cold as an iceberg.  He is not like you, sir:  I am not happy at his side, nor near him, nor with him.  He has no indulgence for me —­ no fondness.  He sees nothing attractive in me; not even youth —­ only a few useful mental points. —­ Then I must leave you, sir, to go to him?”

I shuddered involuntarily, and clung instinctively closer to my blind but beloved master.  He smiled.

“What, Jane!  Is this true?  Is such really the state of matters between you and Rivers?”