"Stop one minute!" I cried.

"Well?"

"It puzzles me to know why Mr. Briggs wrote to you about me; or how he knew you，or could fancy that you，living in such an out-of-the-way place，had the power to aid in my discovery."

"Oh! I am a clergyman," he said; "and the clergy are often appealed to about odd matters." Again the latch rattled.

"No; that does not satisfy me!" I exclaimed: and indeed there was something in the hasty and unexplanatory reply which，instead of allaying，piqued my curiosity more than ever.

"It is a very strange piece of business," I added; "I must know more about it."

"Another time."

"No; to-night!- to-night!" and as he turned from the door，I placed myself between it and him. He looked rather embarrassed.

"You certainly shall not go till you have told me all," I said.

"I would rather not just now."

"You shall!- you must!"

"I would rather Diana or Mary informed you."

Of course these objections wrought my eagerness to a climax: gratified it must be，and that without delay; and I told him so.

"But I apprised you that I was a hard man," said he，"difficult to persuade."

"And I am a hard woman,- impossible to put off."

"And then," he pursued，"I am cold: no fervour infects me."

"Whereas I am hot，and fire dissolves ice. The blaze there has thawed all the snow from your cloak; by the same token，it has streamed on to my floor，and made it like a trampled street. As you hope ever to be forgiven，Mr. Rivers，the high crime and misdemeanour of spoiling a sanded kitchen，tell me what I wish to know."

"Well，then," he said，"I yield; if not to your earnestness，to your perseverance: as stone is worn by continual dropping. Besides，you must know some day,- as well now as later. Your name is Jane Eyre?"