Theelderlylady,whenIwaspresentedtoher,provedtobeMissFairlie’sformergoverness,Mrs.Vesey,whohadbeenbrieflydescribedtomebymylivelycompanionatthebreakfast-table,aspossessedof“allthecardinalvirtues,andcountingfornothing.”
IcandolittlemorethanoffermyhumbletestimonytothetruthfulnessofMissHalcombe’ssketchoftheoldlady’scharacter.
Satinthehouse,earlyandlate;satinthegarden;satinunexpectedwindow-seatsinpassages;sat(onacamp-stool)whenherfriendstriedtotakeheroutwalking;satbeforeshelookedatanything,beforeshetalkedofanything,beforesheansweredYes,orNo,tothecommonestquestion—alwayswiththesameserenesmileonherlips,thesamevacantly-attentiveturnofthehead,thesamesnugly-comfortablepositionofherhandsandarms,undereverypossiblechangeofdomesticcircumstances.
Amild,acompliant,anunutterablytranquilandharmlessoldlady,whoneverbyanychancesuggestedtheideathatshehadbeenactuallyalivesincethehourofherbirth.
Naturehassomuchtodointhisworld,andisengagedingeneratingsuchavastvarietyofco-existentproductions,thatshemustsurelybenowandthentooflurriedandconfusedtodistinguishbetweenthedifferentprocessesthatsheiscarryingonatthesametime.
Startingfromthispointofview,itwillalwaysremainmyprivatepersuasionthatNaturewasabsorbedinmakingcabbageswhenMrs.Veseywasborn,andthatthegoodladysufferedtheconsequencesofavegetablepreoccupationinthemindoftheMotherofusall.
“Now,Mrs.Vesey,”saidMissHalcombe,lookingbrighter,sharper,andreadierthanever,bycontrastwiththeundemonstrativeoldladyatherside,“whatwillyouhave?Acutlet?”
“WhatisthatoppositeMr.Hartright?Boiledchicken,isitnot?Ithoughtyoulikedboiledchickenbetterthancutlet,Mrs.Vesey?”
Mrs.Veseytookherdimpledhandsofftheedgeofthetableandcrossedthemonherlapinstead;noddedcontemplativelyattheboiledchicken,andsaid,“Yes,dear.”
Mrs.Veseyputoneofherdimpledhandsbackagainontheedgeofthetable;hesitateddrowsily,andsaid,“Whichyouplease,dear.”
Mrs.Veseyputtheotherdimpledhandbackontheedgeofthetable;brighteneddimlyonemoment;wentoutagainthenext;bowedobediently,andsaid,“Ifyouplease,sir.”
Surelyamild,acompliant,anunutterablytranquilandharmlessoldlady!Butenough,perhaps,forthepresent,ofMrs.Vesey.
MissHalcombe,whosequickeyenothingescaped,noticedthelooksthatIcast,fromtimetotime,inthedirectionofthedoor.
Shehasbeendownstairs,andhasgotoverherheadache;buthasnotsufficientlyrecoveredherappetitetojoinusatlunch.
Shetookupaparasollyingonachairnearher,andledthewayout,byalongwindowatthebottomoftheroom,whichopenedontothelawn.
ItisalmostunnecessarytosaythatweleftMrs.Veseystillseatedatthetable,withherdimpledhandsstillcrossedontheedgeofit;apparentlysettledinthatpositionfortherestoftheafternoon.
Ihavebeenallthemorninglookingovermymother’sletters,andIhavemadenodiscoveriesyet.However,don’tdespair,Mr.Hartright.
Ibegantowonder,next,whethermyintroductiontoMissFairliewoulddisappointtheexpectationsthatIhadbeenformingofhersincebreakfast-time.
IseeinyourfacethatheWASparticularlynervous;and,asIamamiablyunwillingtothrowyouintothesamecondition,Iasknomore.”
Weturnedoffintoawindingpathwhileshewasspeaking,andapproachedaprettysummer-house,builtofwood,intheformofaminiatureSwisschalet.
Shewasstandingneararustictable,lookingoutattheinlandviewofmoorandhillpresentedbyagapinthetrees,andabsentlyturningovertheleavesofalittlesketch-bookthatlayatherside.ThiswasMissFairlie.
HowcanIseeheragainasshelookedwhenmyeyesfirstrestedonher—assheshouldlook,now,totheeyesthatareabouttoseeherinthesepages?
Thewater-colourdrawingthatImadeofLauraFairlie,atanafterperiod,intheplaceandattitudeinwhichIfirstsawher,liesonmydeskwhileIwrite.
Ilookatit,andtheredawnsuponmebrightly,fromthedarkgreenish-brownbackgroundofthesummer-house,alight,youthfulfigure,clothedinasimplemuslindress,thepatternofitformedbybroadalternatestripesofdelicateblueandwhite.
Ascarfofthesamematerialsitscrisplyandcloselyroundhershoulders,andalittlestrawhatofthenaturalcolour,plainlyandsparinglytrimmedwithribbontomatchthegown,coversherhead,andthrowsitssoftpearlyshadowovertheupperpartofherface.
Herhairisofsofaintandpaleabrown—notflaxen,andyetalmostaslight;notgolden,andyetalmostasglossy—thatitnearlymelts,hereandthere,intotheshadowofthehat.
Theeyebrowsareratherdarkerthanthehair;andtheeyesareofthatsoft,limpid,turquoiseblue,sooftensungbythepoets,soseldomseeninreallife.
Lovelyeyesincolour,lovelyeyesinform—largeandtenderandquietlythoughtful—butbeautifulaboveallthingsinthecleartruthfulnessoflookthatdwellsintheirinmostdepths,andshinesthroughalltheirchangesofexpressionwiththelightofapurerandabetterworld.
Thecharm—mostgentlyandyetmostdistinctlyexpressed—whichtheyshedoverthewholeface,socoversandtransformsitslittlenaturalhumanblemisheselsewhere,thatitisdifficulttoestimatetherelativemeritsanddefectsoftheotherfeatures.
Itishardtoseethatthelowerpartofthefaceistoodelicatelyrefinedawaytowardsthechintobeinfullandfairproportionwiththeupperpart;thatthenose,inescapingtheaquilinebend(alwayshardandcruelinawoman,nomatterhowabstractedlyperfectitmaybe),haserredalittleintheotherextreme,andhasmissedtheidealstraightnessofline;andthatthesweet,sensitivelipsaresubjecttoaslightnervouscontraction,whenshesmiles,whichdrawsthemupwardalittleatonecorner,towardsthecheek.
Itmightbepossibletonotetheseblemishesinanotherwoman’sfacebutitisnoteasytodwellontheminhers,sosubtlyaretheyconnectedwithallthatisindividualandcharacteristicinherexpression,andsocloselydoestheexpressiondependforitsfullplayandlife,ineveryotherfeature,onthemovingimpulseoftheeyes.
Afair,delicategirl,inaprettylightdress,triflingwiththeleavesofasketch-book,whileshelooksupfromitwithtruthful,innocentblueeyes—thatisallthedrawingcansay;all,perhaps,thateventhedeeperreachofthoughtandpencansayintheirlanguage,either.
Thewomanwhofirstgiveslife,light,andformtoourshadowyconceptionsofbeauty,fillsavoidinourspiritualnaturethathasremainedunknowntoustillsheappeared.
Sympathiesthatlietoodeepforwords,toodeepalmostforthoughts,aretouched,atsuchtimes,byothercharmsthanthosewhichthesensesfeelandwhichtheresourcesofexpressioncanrealise.
Themysterywhichunderliesthebeautyofwomenisneverraisedabovethereachofallexpressionuntilithasclaimedkindredwiththedeepermysteryinourownsouls.
Then,andthenonly,hasitpassedbeyondthenarrowregiononwhichlightfalls,inthisworld,fromthepencilandthepen.
Thinkofherasyouthoughtofthefirstwomanwhoquickenedthepulseswithinyouthattherestofhersexhadnoarttostir.
Letherfootstep,asshecomesandgoes,inthesepages,belikethatotherfootsteptowhoseairyfallyourownheartoncebeattime.
Takeherasthevisionarynurslingofyourownfancy;andshewillgrowuponyou,allthemoreclearly,asthelivingwomanwhodwellsinmine.
Amongthesensationsthatcrowdedonme,whenmyeyesfirstlookeduponher—familiarsensationswhichweallknow,whichspringtolifeinmostofourhearts,dieagaininsomany,andrenewtheirbrightexistenceinsofew—therewasonethattroubledandperplexedme:onethatseemedstrangelyinconsistentandunaccountablyoutofplaceinMissFairlie’spresence.
Minglingwiththevividimpressionproducedbythecharmofherfairfaceandhead,hersweetexpression,andherwinningsimplicityofmanner,wasanotherimpression,which,inashadowyway,suggestedtometheideaofsomethingwanting.
AtonetimeitseemedlikesomethingwantinginHER:atanother,likesomethingwantinginmyself,whichhinderedmefromunderstandingherasIought.
Theimpressionwasalwaysstrongestinthemostcontradictorymanner,whenshelookedatme;or,inotherwords,whenIwasmostconsciousoftheharmonyandcharmofherface,andyet,atthesametime,mosttroubledbythesenseofanincompletenesswhichitwasimpossibletodiscover.
Theeffectofthiscuriouscapriceoffancy(asIthoughtitthen)wasnotofanaturetosetmeatmyease,duringafirstinterviewwithMissFairlie.
Thefewkindwordsofwelcomewhichshespokefoundmehardlyself-possessedenoughtothankherinthecustomaryphrasesofreply.
Observingmyhesitation,andnodoubtattributingit,naturallyenough,tosomemomentaryshynessonmypart,MissHalcombetookthebusinessoftalking,aseasilyandreadilyasusual,intoherownhands.
“Lookthere,Mr.Hartright,”shesaid,pointingtothesketch-bookonthetable,andtothelittledelicatewanderinghandthatwasstilltriflingwithit.
Themomentshehearsthatyouareinthehouse,sheseizesherinestimablesketch-booklooksuniversalNaturestraightintheface,andlongstobegin!”
MissFairlielaughedwithareadygood-humour,whichbrokeoutasbrightlyasifithadbeenpartofthesunshineaboveus,overherlovelyface.
“Imustnottakecredittomyselfwherenocreditisdue,”shesaid,herclear,truthfulblueeyeslookingalternatelyatMissHalcombeandatme.
NowIknowyouarehere,Mr.Hartright,Ifindmyselflookingovermysketches,asIusedtolookovermylessonswhenIwasalittlegirl,andwhenIwassadlyafraidthatIshouldturnoutnotfittobeheard.”
Shemadetheconfessionveryprettilyandsimply,and,withquaint,childishearnestness,drewthesketch-bookawayclosetoherownsideofthetable.
“Good,bad,orindifferent,”shesaid,“thepupil’ssketchesmustpassthroughthefieryordealofthemaster’sjudgment—andthere’sanendofit.
Supposewetakethemwithusinthecarriage,Laura,andletMr.Hartrightseethem,forthefirsttime,undercircumstancesofperpetualjoltingandinterruption?
Ifwecanonlyconfusehimallthroughthedrive,betweenNatureasitis,whenhelooksupattheview,andNatureasitisnotwhenhelooksdownagainatoursketch-books,weshalldrivehimintothelastdesperaterefugeofpayinguscompliments,andshallslipthroughhisprofessionalfingerswithourpetfeathersofvanityallunruffled.”
Inthosefewwordssheunconsciouslygavemethekeytoherwholecharacter:tothatgeneroustrustinotherswhich,inhernature,grewinnocentlyoutofthesenseofherowntruth.Ionlyknewitintuitivelythen.Iknowitbyexperiencenow.
WemerelywaitedtorousegoodMrs.Veseyfromtheplacewhichshestilloccupiedatthedesertedluncheon-table,beforeweenteredtheopencarriageforourpromiseddrive.
TheoldladyandMissHalcombeoccupiedthebackseat,andMissFairlieandIsattogetherinfront,withthesketch-bookopenbetweenus,fairlyexhibitedatlasttomyprofessionaleyes.
Allseriouscriticismonthedrawings,evenifIhadbeendisposedtovolunteerit,wasrenderedimpossiblebyMissHalcombe’slivelyresolutiontoseenothingbuttheridiculoussideoftheFineArts,aspractisedbyherself,hersister,andladiesingeneral.
Thatpartofthetalk,especially,inwhichMissFairlietookanyshare,isstillasvividlyimpressedonmymemoryasifIhadhearditonlyafewhoursago.
Yes!letmeacknowledgethatonthisfirstdayIletthecharmofherpresenceluremefromtherecollectionofmyselfandmyposition.
Themosttriflingofthequestionsthatsheputtome,onthesubjectofusingherpencilandmixinghercolours;theslightestalterationsofexpressioninthelovelyeyesthatlookedintominewithsuchanearnestdesiretolearnallthatIcouldteach,andtodiscoverallthatIcouldshow,attractedmoreofmyattentionthanthefinestviewwepassedthrough,orthegrandestchangesoflightandshade,astheyflowedintoeachotheroverthewavingmoorlandandthelevelbeach.
Atanytime,andunderanycircumstancesofhumaninterest,isitnotstrangetoseehowlittlerealholdtheobjectsofthenaturalworldamidwhichwelivecangainonourheartsandminds?
Admirationofthosebeautiesoftheinanimateworld,whichmodernpoetrysolargelyandsoeloquentlydescribes,isnot,eveninthebestofus,oneoftheoriginalinstinctsofournature.Aschildren,wenoneofuspossessit.
Thosewhoselivesaremostexclusivelypassedamidtheever-changingwondersofseaandlandarealsothosewhoaremostuniversallyinsensibletoeveryaspectofNaturenotdirectlyassociatedwiththehumaninterestoftheircalling.
Ourcapacityofappreciatingthebeautiesoftheearthweliveonis,intruth,oneofthecivilisedaccomplishmentswhichwealllearnasanArt;and,more,thatverycapacityisrarelypractisedbyanyofusexceptwhenourmindsaremostindolentandmostunoccupied.
HowmuchsharehavetheattractionsofNatureeverhadinthepleasurableorpainfulinterestsandemotionsofourselvesorourfriends?
Whatspacedotheyeveroccupyinthethousandlittlenarrativesofpersonalexperiencewhichpasseverydaybywordofmouthfromoneofustotheother?
Allthatourmindscancompass,allthatourheartscanlearn,canbeaccomplishedwithequalcertainty,equalprofit,andequalsatisfactiontoourselves,inthepoorestasintherichestprospectthatthefaceoftheearthcanshow.
Thereissurelyareasonforthiswantofinbornsympathybetweenthecreatureandthecreationaroundit,areasonwhichmayperhapsbefoundinthewidely-differingdestiniesofmanandhisearthlysphere.
OnourwaybackIhadlettheladiessettleforthemselvesthefirstpointofviewwhichtheyweretosketch,undermyinstructions,ontheafternoonofthenextday.
Whentheywithdrewtodressfordinner,andwhenIwasaloneagaininmylittlesitting-room,myspiritsseemedtoleavemeonasudden.
PerhapsIwasnowconsciousforthefirsttimeofhavingenjoyedourdrivetoomuchinthecharacterofaguest,andtoolittleinthecharacterofadrawing-master.
Perhapsthatstrangesenseofsomethingwanting,eitherinMissFairlieorinmyself,whichhadperplexedmewhenIwasfirstintroducedtoher,hauntedmestill.
Anyhow,itwasarelieftomyspiritswhenthedinner-hourcalledmeoutofmysolitude,andtookmebacktothesocietyoftheladiesofthehouse.
Iwasstruck,onenteringthedrawing-room,bythecuriouscontrast,ratherinmaterialthanincolour,ofthedresseswhichtheynowwore.
WhileMrs.VeseyandMissHalcombewererichlyclad(eachinthemannermostbecomingtoherage),thefirstinsilver-grey,andthesecondinthatdelicateprimrose-yellowcolourwhichmatchessowellwithadarkcomplexionandblackhair,MissFairliewasunpretendinglyandalmostpoorlydressedinplainwhitemuslin.
Itwasspotlesslypure:itwasbeautifullyputon;butstillitwasthesortofdresswhichthewifeordaughterofapoormanmighthaveworn,anditmadeher,sofarasexternalswent,looklessaffluentincircumstancesthanherowngoverness.
Atalaterperiod,whenIlearnttoknowmoreofMissFairlie’scharacter,Idiscoveredthatthiscuriouscontrast,onthewrongside,wasduetohernaturaldelicacyoffeelingandnaturalintensityofaversiontotheslightestpersonaldisplayofherownwealth.
NeitherMrs.VeseynorMissHalcombecouldeverinducehertolettheadvantageindressdesertthetwoladieswhowerepoor,toleantothesideoftheoneladywhowasrich.
AlthoughMr.Fairlie(emulatingthemagnificentcondescensionofthemonarchwhohadpickedupTitian’sbrushforhim)hadinstructedhisbutlertoconsultmywishesinrelationtothewinethatImightpreferafterdinner,Iwasresoluteenoughtoresistthetemptationofsittinginsolitarygrandeuramongbottlesofmyownchoosing,andsensibleenoughtoasktheladies’permissiontoleavethetablewiththemhabitually,onthecivilisedforeignplan,duringtheperiodofmyresidenceatLimmeridgeHouse.
Thedrawing-room,towhichwehadnowwithdrawnfortherestoftheevening,wasontheground-floor,andwasofthesameshapeandsizeasthebreakfast-room.
Largeglassdoorsatthelowerendopenedontoaterrace,beautifullyornamentedalongitswholelengthwithaprofusionofflowers.
Thesoft,hazytwilightwasjustshadingleafandblossomalikeintoharmonywithitsownsoberhuesasweenteredtheroom,andthesweeteveningscentoftheflowersmetuswithitsfragrantwelcomethroughtheopenglassdoors.
GoodMrs.Vesey(alwaysthefirstofthepartytositdown)tookpossessionofanarm-chairinacorner,anddozedoffcomfortablytosleep.
AsIfollowedhertoaseatneartheinstrument,IsawMissHalcomberetireintoarecessofoneofthesidewindows,toproceedwiththesearchthroughhermother’slettersbythelastquietraysoftheeveninglight.
FromtheplacewhereIsatIcouldseeMissHalcombe’sgracefulfigure,halfofitinsoftlight,halfinmysteriousshadow,bendingintentlyoverthelettersinherlap;while,nearertome,thefairprofileoftheplayeratthepianowasjustdelicatelydefinedagainstthefaintly-deepeningbackgroundoftheinnerwalloftheroom.
Outside,ontheterrace,theclusteringflowersandlonggrassesandcreeperswavedsogentlyinthelighteveningair,thatthesoundoftheirrustlingneverreachedus.
Theskywaswithoutacloud,andthedawningmysteryofmoonlightbegantotremblealreadyintheregionoftheeasternheaven.
Thesenseofpeaceandseclusionsoothedallthoughtandfeelingintoarapt,unearthlyrepose;andthebalmyquiet,thatdeepenedeverwiththedeepeninglight,seemedtohoveroveruswithagentlerinfluencestill,whentherestoleuponitfromthepianotheheavenlytendernessofthemusicofMozart.
Weallsatsilentintheplaceswehadchosen—Mrs.Veseystillsleeping,MissFairliestillplaying,MissHalcombestillreading—tillthelightfailedus.
Bythistimethemoonhadstolenroundtotheterrace,andsoft,mysteriousraysoflightwereslantingalreadyacrossthelowerendoftheroom.
Thechangefromthetwilightobscuritywassobeautifulthatwebanishedthelamps,bycommonconsent,whentheservantbroughtthemin,andkeptthelargeroomunlighted,exceptbytheglimmerofthetwocandlesatthepiano.
WhenthecandlesatthepianohadbeenlightedMissHalcombehadchangedherplace,soastocontinueherexaminationofthelettersbytheirassistance.
Welefther,onalowchair,atonesideoftheinstrument,soabsorbedoverherreadingthatshedidnotseemtonoticewhenwemoved.
Wehadbeenoutontheterracetogether,justinfrontoftheglassdoors,hardlysolongasfiveminutes,Ishouldthink;andMissFairliewas,bymyadvice,justtyingherwhitehandkerchiefoverherheadasaprecautionagainstthenightair—whenIheardMissHalcombe’svoice—low,eager,andalteredfromitsnaturallivelytone—pronouncemyname.
OnthesideoftheinstrumentfarthestfromtheterraceMissHalcombewassittingwiththelettersscatteredonherlap,andwithoneinherhandselectedfromthem,andheldclosetothecandle.
InthispositionIwasnotfarfromtheglassdoors,andIcouldseeMissFairlieplainly,asshepassedandrepassedtheopeningontotheterrace,walkingslowlyfromendtoendofitinthefullradianceofthemoon.
Theletterisaddressedbymymothertohersecondhusband,Mr.Fairlie,andthedatereferstoaperiodofbetweenelevenandtwelveyearssince.
AtthattimeMr.andMrs.Fairlie,andmyhalf-sisterLaura,hadbeenlivingforyearsinthishouse;andIwasawayfromthemcompletingmyeducationataschoolinParis.”
Atthemomentwhensheraisedthelettertothecandlebeforebeginningtoreadit,MissFairliepassedusontheterrace,lookedinforamoment,andseeingthatwewereengaged,slowlywalkedon.
FourdaysagoMrs.Catherickcameheretoseeme,andbroughtheronlychildwithher,asweetlittlegirlaboutayearolderthanourdarlingLaura——’”
“‘Mrs.Catherickisadecent,well-behaved,respectablewoman;middle-aged,andwiththeremainsofhavingbeenmoderately,onlymoderately,nice-looking.
Sheisreservedaboutherselftothepointofdown-rightsecrecy,andthereisalookinherface—Ican’tdescribeit—whichsuggeststomethatshehassomethingonhermind.
WhensheleftHampshiretonursehersister,Mrs.Kempe,throughherlastillness,shehadbeenobligedtobringherdaughterwithher,throughhavingnooneathometotakecareofthelittlegirl.
Mrs.Kempemaydieinaweek’stime,ormaylingeronformonths;andMrs.Catherick’sobjectwastoaskmetoletherdaughter,Anne,havethebenefitofattendingmyschool,subjecttotheconditionofherbeingremovedfromittogohomeagainwithhermother,afterMrs.Kempe’sdeath.
Iconsentedatonce,andwhenLauraandIwentoutforourwalk,wetookthelittlegirl(whoisjustelevenyearsold)totheschoolthatveryday.’”
OncemoreMissFairlie’sfigure,brightandsoftinitssnowymuslindress—herfaceprettilyframedbythewhitefoldsofthehandkerchiefwhichshehadtiedunderherchin—passedbyusinthemoonlight.
“‘Ihavetakenaviolentfancy,Philip,tomynewscholar,forareasonwhichImeantokeeptillthelastforthesakeofsurprisingyou.
Hermotherhavingtoldmeaslittleaboutthechildasshetoldmeofherself,Iwaslefttodiscover(whichIdidonthefirstdaywhenwetriedheratlessons)thatthepoorlittlething’sintellectisnotdevelopedasitoughttobeatherage.
SeeingthisIhadheruptothehousethenextday,andprivatelyarrangedwiththedoctortocomeandwatchherandquestionher,andtellmewhathethought.
Buthesayshercarefulbringing-upatschoolisamatterofgreatimportancejustnow,becauseherunusualslownessinacquiringideasimpliesanunusualtenacityinkeepingthem,whentheyareoncereceivedintohermind.
ThispoorlittleAnneCatherickisasweet,affectionate,gratefulgirl,andsaysthequaintest,prettiestthings(asyoushalljudgebyaninstance),inthemostoddlysudden,surprised,half-frightenedway.
SoIarranged,yesterday,thatsomeofourdarlingLaura’soldwhitefrocksandwhitehatsshouldbealteredforAnneCatherick,explainingtoherthatlittlegirlsofhercomplexionlookedneaterandbetterallinwhitethaninanythingelse.
Shehesitatedandseemedpuzzledforaminute,thenflushedup,andappearedtounderstand.Herlittlehandclaspedminesuddenly.
“Didtheforlornwomanwhomyoumetinthehigh-roadseemyoung?”sheasked.“Youngenoughtobetwo—orthree-and-twenty?”
Insteadofproceedingonherwalk,shestopped,withherbackturnedtowardsus,and,leaningonthebalustradeoftheterrace,lookeddownintothegardenbeyond.
Myeyesfixeduponthewhitegleamofhermuslingownandhead-dressinthemoonlight,andasensation,forwhichIcanfindnoname—asensationthatquickenedmypulse,andraisedaflutteringatmyheart—begantostealoverme.
ButIcan’thelpdwellingalittleuponthecoincidenceofthewhitecostumeofthewomanyoumet,andthewhitefrockswhichproducedthatstrangeanswerfrommymother’slittlescholar.
Thedoctormayhavebeenwrongwhenhediscoveredthechild’sdefectsofintellect,andpredictedthatshewould‘growoutofthem.’
Shemayneverhavegrownoutofthem,andtheoldgratefulfancyaboutdressinginwhite,whichwasaseriousfeelingtothegirl,maybeaseriousfeelingtothewomanstill.”
Isaidafewwordsinanswer—Ihardlyknowwhat.AllmyattentionwasconcentratedonthewhitegleamofMissFairlie’smuslindress.
Assheraisedthelettertothelightofthecandle,MissFairlieturnedfromthebalustrade,lookeddoubtfullyupanddowntheterrace,advancedasteptowardstheglassdoors,andthenstopped,facingus.
“‘Andnow,mylove,seeingthatIamattheendofmypaper,nowfortherealreason,thesurprisingreason,formyfondnessforlittleAnneCatherick.
MydearPhilip,althoughsheisnothalfsopretty,sheis,nevertheless,byoneofthoseextraordinarycapricesofaccidentalresemblancewhichonesometimessees,thelivinglikeness,inherhair,hercomplexion,thecolourofhereyes,andtheshapeofherface——’”
Athrillofthesamefeelingwhichranthroughmewhenthetouchwaslaiduponmyshoulderonthelonelyhigh-roadchilledmeagain.
TherestoodMissFairlie,awhitefigure,aloneinthemoonlight;inherattitude,intheturnofherhead,inhercomplexion,intheshapeofherface,thelivingimage,atthatdistanceandunderthosecircumstances,ofthewomaninwhite!
That“somethingwanting”wasmyownrecognitionoftheominouslikenessbetweenthefugitivefromtheasylumandmypupilatLimmeridgeHouse.
“Youseeit!”saidMissHalcombe.Shedroppedtheuselessletter,andhereyesflashedastheymetmine.“Youseeitnow,asmymothersawitelevenyearssince!”
Toassociatethatforlorn,friendless,lostwoman,evenbyanaccidentallikenessonly,withMissFairlie,seemslikecastingashadowonthefutureofthebrightcreaturewhostandslookingatusnow.
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