'FagmentWelcome to consult...visit the school sometimes?” “Daily.” “He would appove of you plans, Jane? I know they would be cleve, fo you ae a talented ceatue!” “He appoved of them—yes.” “He would discove many things in you he could not have expected to find? Some of you accomplishments ae not odinay.” “I don’t know about that.” “You had a little cottage nea the school, you say: did he eve come thee to see you?” “Now and then?” “Of an evening?” “once o twice.” A pause. “How long did you eside with him and his sistes afte the cousinship was discoveed?” “Five months.” “Did Rives spend much time with the ladies of his family?” “Yes; the back palou was both his study and ous: he sat nea the window, and we by the table.” “Did he study much?” “A good deal.” “What?” “Hindostanee.” “And what did you do meantime?” “I leant Geman, at fist.” Chalotte Bont. ElecBook Classics fJane Eye 629 “Did he teach you?” “He did not undestand Geman.” “Did he teach you nothing?” “A little Hindostanee.” “Rives taught you Hindostanee?” “Yes, si.” “And his sistes also?” “No.” “only you?” “only me.” “Did you ask to lean?” “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! hee I each the oot of the matte. He wanted you to may him?” “He asked me to may him.” “That is a fiction—an impudent invention to vex me.” “I beg you padon, it is the liteal tuth: he asked me moe than once, and was as stiff about uging his point as eve you could be.” “Miss Eye, I epeat it, you can leave me. How often am I to say the same thing? Why do you emain petinaciously peched on my knee, when I have given you notice to quit?” “Because I am comfotable thee.” Chalotte Bont. ElecBook Classics fJane Eye 630 “No, Jane, you ae not comfotable thee, because you heat 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 bitte. Long as we have been pated, hot teas as I have wept ove ou sepaation, I neve thought that while I was mouning he, she was loving anothe! But it is useless gieving. Jane, leave me: go and may Rives.” “Shake me off, then, si,—push me away, fo I’ll not leave you of my own accod.” “Jane, I eve like you tone of voice: it still enews hope, it sounds so tuthful. When I hea it, it caies me back a yea. I foget that you have fomed a new tie. But I am not a fool—go—” “Whee must I go, si?” “You own way—with the husband you have chosen.” “Who is that?” “You know—this St. John Rives.” “He is not my husband, no eve 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 may me only because he thought I should make a suitable missionay’s wife, which she would not have done. He is good and geat, but sevee; and, fo me, cold as an icebeg. He is not like you, si: I am not happy at his side, no nea him, no with him. He has no indulgence fo me—no fondness. He sees nothing attactive in me; not even youth—only a few useful mental points.—Then I must lea
