Villette

observed it?«
    »Observed what? What ails the Old Lady now? How you stare, mama! One would think you had an attack of second-sight.«
    »Tell me, Graham, of whom does that young lady remind you?« pointing to me.
    »Mama, you put her out of countenance. I often tell you abruptness is your fault; remember, too, that to you she is a stranger, and does not know your ways.«
    »Now, when she looks down; now, when she turns sideways, who is she like, Graham?«
    »Indeed, mama, since you propound the riddle, I think you ought to solve it!«
    »And you have known her some time, you say – ever since you first began to attend the school in the Rue Fossette; – yet you never mentioned to me that singular resemblance!«
    »I could not mention a thing of which I never thought, and which I do not now acknowledge. What
can
you mean?«
    »Stupid boy! look at her.«
    Graham did look: but this was not to be endured; I saw how it must end, so I thought it best to anticipate.
    »Dr. John,« I said, »has had so much to do and think of, since he and I shook hands at our last parting in St Ann's Street, that, while I readily found out Mr. Graham Bretton, some months ago, it never occurred to me as possible that he should recognize Lucy Snowe.«
    »Lucy Snowe! I thought so! I knew it!« cried Mrs. Bretton. And she at once stepped across the hearth and kissed me. Some ladies would, perhaps, have made a great bustle upon such a discovery without being particularly glad of it; but it was not my godmother's habit to make a bustle, and she preferred all sentimental demonstration in bas-relief. So she and I got over the surprise with few words and a single salute; yet I daresay she was pleased, and I know I was. While we renewed old acquaintance, Graham, sitting opposite, silently disposed of his paroxysm of astonishment.
    »Mama calls me a stupid boy, and I think I am so,« at length he said; »for, upon my honour, often as I have seen you, I never once suspected this fact: and yet I perceive it all now. Lucy Snowe! To be sure! I recollect her perfectly, and there she sits; not a doubt of it. But,« he added, »you surely have not known me as an old acquaintance all this time, and never mentioned it?«
    »That I have,« was my answer.
    Dr. John commented not. I supposed he regarded my silence as eccentric, but he was indulgent in refraining from censure. I dare say, too, he would have deemed it impertinent to have interrogated me very closely, to have asked me the why and wherefore of my reserve; and, though he might feel a little curious, the importance of the case was by no means such as to tempt curiosity to infringe on discretion.
    For my part, I just ventured to inquire whether he remembered the circumstance of my once looking at him very fixedly; for the slight annoyance he had betrayed on that occasion, still lingered sore on my mind.
    »I think I do!« said he: »I think I was even cross with you.«
    »You considered me a little bold, perhaps?« I inquired.
    »Not at all. Only, shy and retiring as your general manner was, I wondered what personal or facial enormity in me proved so magnetic to your usually averted eyes.«
    »You see how it was, now?«
    »Perfectly.«
    And here Mrs. Bretton broke in with many, many questions about past times; and for her satisfaction I had to recur to gone-by troubles, to explain causes of seeming estrangement, to touch on single-handed conflict with Life, with Death, with Grief, with Fate. Dr. John listened, saying little. He and she then told me of changes they had known: even with them, all had not gone smoothly, and fortune had retrenched her once abundant gifts. But so courageous a mother, with such a champion in her son, was well fitted to fight a good fight with the world, and to prevail ultimately. Dr. John himself was one of those on whose birth benign planets have certainly smiled. Adversity might set against him her most sullen front: he was the man to beat her down with smiles. Strong and cheerful, and firm and courteous; not rash, yet valiant; he was the aspirant to woo Destiny herself, and to win from her stone eye-balls a beam almost loving.
    In the profession he had adopted, his success was now quite decided. Within the last three months, he had taken this house (a small château, they told me, about half a league without the Porte de Crécy); this country site being chosen for the sake of his mother's health, with which town air did not now agree. Hither he had invited Mrs. Bretton,