ou； Mr。 Rivers； forbade me to perish of want at your door； and took me under the shelter of your roof。 I know all your sisters have done for me since—for I have not been insensible during my seeming torpor—and I owe to their spontaneous； genuine； genial passion as large a debt as to your evangelical charity。”
“Don’t make her talk any more now； St。 John；” said Diana； as I paused； “she is evidently not yet fit for excitement。 e to the sofa and sit down now； Miss Elliott。”
I gave an involuntary half start at hearing the alias： I had forgotten my new name。 Mr。 Rivers； whom nothing seemed to escape； noticed it at once。
“You said your name was Jane Elliott？” he observed。
“I did say so； and it is the name by which I think it expedient to be called at present； but it is not my real name； and when I hear it； it sounds strange to me。”
“Your real name you will not give？”
“No： I fear discovery above all things； and whatever disclosure would lead to it； I avoid。”
“You are quite right； I am sure；” said Diana。 “Now do； brother； let her be at peace a while。”
But when St。 John had mused a few moments he remenced as imperturbably and with as much acumen as ever。
“You would not like to be long dependent on our hospitality—you would wish； I see； to dispense as soon as may be with my sisters’ passion； and； above all； with my charity （I am quite sensible of the distinction drawn； nor do I resent it—it is just）： you desire to be independent of us？”
“I do： I have already said so。 Show me how to work； or how to seek work： that is all I now ask； then let me go； if it be but to the meanest cottage； but till then； allow me to stay here： I dread another essay of the horrors of homeless destitution。”
“Indeed you shall s