I knew Mrs. Reed had not spoken for days: was she reviving? I went

up to her.

"It is I, Aunt Reed."

"Who--I?" was her answer. "Who are you?" looking at me with

surprise and a sort of alarm, but still not wildly. "You are quite

a stranger to me--where is Bessie?"

"She is at the lodge, aunt."

"Aunt," she repeated. "Who calls me aunt? You are not one of the

Gibsons; and yet I know you--that face, and the eyes and forehead,

are quiet familiar to me: you are like--why, you are like Jane

Eyre!"

I said nothing: I was afraid of occasioning some shock by declaring

my identity.

"Yet," said she, "I am afraid it is a mistake: my thoughts deceive

me. I wished to see Jane Eyre, and I fancy a likeness where none

exists: besides, in eight years she must be so changed." I now

gently assured her that I was the person she supposed and desired me

to be: and seeing that I was understood, and that her senses were

quite collected, I explained how Bessie had sent her husband to

fetch me from Thornfield.

"I am very ill, I know," she said ere long. "I was trying to turn

myself a few minutes since, and find I cannot move a limb. It is as

well I should ease my mind before I die: what we think little of in

health, burdens us at such an hour as the present is to me. Is the

nurse here? or is there no one in the room but you?"

I assured her we were alone.

"Well, I have twice done you a wrong which I regret now. One was in

breaking the promise which I gave my husband to bring you up as my

own child; the other--" she stopped. "After all, it is of no great

importance, perhaps," she murmured to herself: "and then I may get

better; and to humble myself so to her is painful."

She made an effort to alter her position, but failed: her face

changed; she seemed to experience some inward sensation--the

precursor, perhaps, of the last pang.

"Well, I must get it over. Eternity is before me: I had better

tell her.--Go to my dressing-case, open it, and take out a letter

you will see there."

I obeyed her directions. "Read the letter," she said.

It was short, and thus conceived:-

"Madam,--Will you have the goodness to send me the address of my

niece, Jane Eyre, and to tell me how she is? It is my intention to

write shortly and desire her to come to me at Madeira. Providence

has blessed my endeavours to secure a competency; and as I am

unmarried and childless, I wish to adopt her during my life, and

bequeath her at my death whatever I may have to leave.--I am, Madam,

&c., &c., "JOHN EYRE, Madeira."




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