CHAPTER XXXIII 480
paper , hastily torn off : I recognised in its texture and its stains of ultra-marine , and lake , and vermillion , the ravished margin of the portrait-cover . He got up , held it close to my eyes : and I read , traced in Indian ink , in my own handwriting , the words " JANE EYRE " -- the work doubtless of some moment of abstraction .
" Briggs wrote to me of a Jane Eyre :" he said , " the advertisements demanded a Jane Eyre : I knew a Jane Elliott . -- I confess I had my suspicions , but it was only yesterday afternoon they were at once resolved into certainty . You own the name and renounce the alias ?"
" Yes -- yes ; but where is Mr . Briggs ? He perhaps knows more of Mr . Rochester than you do ."
" Briggs is in London . I should doubt his knowing anything at all about Mr . Rochester ; it is not in Mr . Rochester he is interested . Meantime , you forget essential points in pursuing trifles : you do not inquire why Mr . Briggs sought after you -- what he wanted with you ."
" Well , what did he want ?"
" Merely to tell you that your uncle , Mr . Eyre of Madeira , is dead ; that he has left you all his property , and that you are now rich -- merely that -- nothing more ."
" I ! -- rich ?" " Yes , you , rich -- quite an heiress ." Silence succeeded .
" You must prove your identity of course ," resumed St . John presently : " a step which will offer no difficulties ; you can then enter on immediate possession . Your fortune is vested in the English funds ; Briggs has the will and the necessary documents ."