"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."

Here was a new card turned up! It is a fine thing，reader，to be lifted in a moment from indigence to wealth- a very fine thing; but not a matter one can prehend or consequently enjoy，all at once.

And then there are other chances in life far more thrilling and rapture-giving: this is solid，an affair of the actual world，nothing ideal about it: all its associations are solid and sober，and its manifestations are the same. One does not jump，and spring，and shout hurrah! at hearing one has got a fortune; one begins to consider responsibilities，and to ponder business; on a base of steady satisfaction rise certain grave cares，and we contain ourselves，and brood over our bliss with a solemn brow.

Besides，the words Legacy，Bequest，go side by side with the words，Death，Funeral. My uncle I had heard was dead- my only relative; ever since being made aware of his existence，I had cherished the hope of one day seeing him: now，I never should. And then this money came only to me: not to me and a rejoicing family，but to my isolated self.