you cannot form a notion of the importance twenty thousand pounds would give you; of the place it would enable you to take in society; of the prospects it would open to you; you cannot—"
"And you," I interrupted, "cannot at all imagine the craving I have for fraternal and sisterly love. I never had a home; I never had brothers or sisters; I must and will have them now: you are not reluctant to admit me and own me, are you?"
"Jane, I will be your brother—my sisters will be your sisters—without stipulating for this sacrifice of your just rights."
"Brother? Yes; at the distance of a thousand leagues! Sisters? Yes; slaving amongst strangers! I, wealthy—gorged with gold I never earned and do not merit! You, penniless! Famous equality and fraternisation! Close union! Intimate attachment!"
"But, Jane, your aspirations after family ties and domestic happiness may be realised otherwise than by the means you contemplate. You may marry."
"Nonsense, again! Marry! I don't want to marry, and never shall marry."
"That is saying too much: such hazardous affirmations are a proof of the excitement under which you labour."
"It is not saying too much. I know what I feel, and how averse are my inclinations to the bare thought of marriage. No one would take me for love; and I will not be regarded in the light of a mere money-speculation. And I do not want a stranger—unsympathising, alien, different from me. I want my kindred: those with whom I have full fellow-feeling. Say again you will be my brother: when you uttered the words I was satisfied, happy; repeat them, if you can, repeat them sincerely."
"I think I can. I know I have always loved my own sisters; and I know on what my affection for them is grounded—respect for their worth and admiration of their talents. You too have principle and mind: your tastes and habits resemble Diana's and Mary's; your presence is always agreeable to me; in your conversation I have already for some time found a salutary solace. I feel I can easily and naturally make room in my heart for you, as my third and youngest sister."
"Thank you: that contents me for to-night. Now you had better go; for if you stay longer, you will perhaps irritate me afresh by some mistrustful scruple."
"And the school, Miss Eyre? It must now be shut up, I suppose?"
"No. I will retain my post of mistress till you get a substitute."
He smiled approbation: we shook hands, and he took leave.
I need not narrate in detail the further struggles I had, and arguments I used, to get matters regarding the legacy settled as I wished. My task was a very hard one: but, as I was absolutely resolved— as my cousins saw at length that my mind was really and immutably fixed on making a just division of the property—