very well: you used to give
me a ride sometimes on Miss Georgiana's bay pony. And how is Bessie? You
are married to Bessie?"

"Yes, Miss: my wife is very hearty, thank you; she brought me another
little one about two months since--we have three now--and both mother and
child are thriving."

"And are the family well at the house, Robert?"

"I am sorry I can't give you better news of them, Miss: they are very
badly at present--in great trouble."

"I hope no one is dead," I said, glancing at his black dress. He too
looked down at the crape round his hat and replied--

"Mr. John died yesterday was a week, at his chambers in London."

"Mr. John?"

"Yes."

"And how does his mother bear it?"

"Why, you see, Miss Eyre, it is not a common mishap: his life has been
very wild: these last three years he gave himself up to strange ways, and
his death was shocking."

"I heard from Bessie he was not doing well."

"Doing well! He could not do worse: he ruined his health and his estate
amongst the worst men and the worst women. He got into debt and into
jail: his mother helped him out twice, but as soon as he was free he
returned to his old companions and habits. His head was not strong: the
knaves he lived amongst fooled him beyond anything I ever heard. He came
down to Gateshead about three weeks ago and wanted missis to give up all
to him. Missis refused: her means have long been much reduced by his
extravagance; so he went back again, and the next news was that he was
dead. How he died, God knows!--they say he killed himself."

I was silent: the things were frightful. Robert Leaven resumed--

"Missis had been out of health herself for some time: she had got very
stout, but was not strong with it; and the loss of money and fear of
poverty were quite breaking her down. The information about Mr. John's
death and the manner of it came too suddenly: it brought on a stroke. She
was three days without speaking; but last Tuesday she seemed rather
better: she appeared as if she wanted to say something, and kept making
signs to my wife and mumbling. It was only yesterday morning, however,
that Bessie understood she was pronouncing your name; and at last she
made out the words, 'Bring Jane--fetch Jane Eyre: I want to speak to
her.' Bessie is not sure whether she is in her right mind, or means
anything by the words; but she told Miss Reed and Miss Georgiana, and
advised them to send for you. The young ladies put i