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310 of insatiate yearnings and disquieting aspirations. I was sure St. John Rivers-purelived, conscientious, zealous as he was-had not yet found that peace of God which passeth all understanding; he had no more found it, I thought, than had I with my concealed and racking regrets for my broken idol and lost elysium-regrets to which I have latterly avoided referring, but which possessed me and tyrannised over me ruthlessly. Meantime a month was gone. Diana and Mary were soon to leave Moor House, and return to the far different life and scene which awaited them, as governesses in a large, fashionable, south-of- England city, where each held a situation in families by whose wealthy and haughty members they were regarded only as humble dependants, and who neither knew nor sought out their innate excellences, and appreciated only their acquired accomplishments as they appreciated the skill of their cook or the taste of their waiting-woman. Mr. St. John had said nothing to me yet about the employment he had promised to obtain for me; yet it became urgent that I should have a vocation of some kind. One morning, being left alone with him a few minutes in the parlour, I ventured to approach the window-recess-which his table, chair, and desk consecrated as a kind of studyand I was going to speak, though not very well knowing in what words to frame my inquiry-for it is at all times difficult to break the ice of reserve glassing over such natures as his-when he saved me the trouble by being the first to commence a dialogue. Looking up as I drew near-‘You have a question to ask of me?’ he said. ‘Yes; I wish to know whether you have heard of any service I can offer myself to undertake?’ ‘I found or devised something for you three weeks ago; but as you seemed both useful and happy here-as my sisters had evidently become attached to you, and your society gave them unusual pleasure-I deemed it inexpedient to break in on your mutual comfort till their approaching departure from Marsh End should render yours necessary.’ ‘And they will go in three days now?’ I said. ‘Yes; and when they go, I shall return to the parsonage at Morton: Hannah will accompany me; and this old house will be shut up.’ I waited a few moments, expecting he would go on with the subject first broached: but he seemed to have entered another train of reflection: his look denoted abstraction from me and my business. I was obliged to recall him to a theme which was of necessity one of close and anxious interest to me. ‘What is the employment you had in view, Mr. Rivers? I hope this delay will not have increased the difficulty of securing it.’ ‘Oh, no; since it is an employment which depends only on me to give, and |