Villette | Page 5

go down the street in a given time. She had sat listlessly,
hardly looking, and not counting, when--my eye being fixed on hers--I
witnessed in its iris and pupil a startling transfiguration. These sudden,
dangerous natures--sensitive as they are called--offer many a curious
spectacle to those whom a cooler temperament has secured from
participation in their angular vagaries. The fixed and heavy gaze swum,
trembled, then glittered in fire; the small, overcast brow cleared; the
trivial and dejected features lit up; the sad countenance vanished, and in
its place appeared a sudden eagerness, an intense expectancy. "It is!"
were her words.
Like a bird or a shaft, or any other swift thing, she was gone from the
room, How she got the house-door open I cannot tell; probably it might
be ajar; perhaps Warren was in the way and obeyed her behest, which
would be impetuous enough. I--watching calmly from the window--
saw her, in her black frock and tiny braided apron (to pinafores she had
an antipathy), dart half the length of the street; and, as I was on the
point of turning, and quietly announcing to Mrs. Bretton that the child
was run out mad, and ought instantly to be pursued, I saw her caught up,
and rapt at once from my cool observation, and from the wondering
stare of the passengers. A gentleman had done this good turn, and now,
covering her with his cloak, advanced to restore her to the house
whence he had seen her issue.
I concluded he would leave her in a servant's charge and withdraw; but
he entered: having tarried a little while below, he came up-stairs.
His reception immediately explained that he was known to Mrs.
Bretton. She recognised him; she greeted him, and yet she was fluttered,
surprised, taken unawares. Her look and manner were even
expostulatory; and in reply to these, rather than her words, he said, --"I
could not help it, madam: I found it impossible to leave the country
without seeing with my own eyes how she settled."
"But you will unsettle her."
"I hope not. And how is papa's little Polly?"

This question he addressed to Paulina, as he sat down and placed her
gently on the ground before him.
"How is Polly's papa?" was the reply, as she leaned on his knee, and
gazed up into his face.
It was not a noisy, not a wordy scene: for that I was thankful; but it was
a scene of feeling too brimful, and which, because the cup did not foam
up high or furiously overflow, only oppressed one the more. On all
occasions of vehement, unrestrained expansion, a sense of disdain or
ridicule comes to the weary spectator's relief; whereas I have ever felt
most burdensome that sort of sensibility which bends of its own will, a
giant slave under the sway of good sense.
Mr. Home was a stern-featured--perhaps I should rather say, a hard-
featured man: his forehead was knotty, and his cheekbones were
marked and prominent. The character of his face was quite Scotch; but
there was feeling in his eye, and emotion in his now agitated
countenance. His northern accent in speaking harmonised with his
physiognomy. He was at once proud-looking and homely-looking. He
laid his hand on the child's uplifted head. She said--"Kiss Polly."
He kissed her. I wished she would utter some hysterical cry, so that I
might get relief and be at ease. She made wonderfully little noise: she
seemed to have got what she wanted--all she wanted, and to be in a
trance of content. Neither in mien nor in features was this creature like
her sire, and yet she was of his strain: her mind had been filled from his,
as the cup from the flagon.
Indisputably, Mr. Home owned manly self-control, however he might
secretly feel on some matters. "Polly," he said, looking down on his
little girl, "go into the hall; you will see papa's great-coat lying on a
chair; put your hand into the pockets, you will find a pocket-
handkerchief there; bring it to me."
She obeyed; went and returned deftly and nimbly. He was talking to
Mrs. Bretton when she came back, and she waited with the
handkerchief in her hand. It was a picture, in its way, to see her, with

her tiny stature, and trim, neat shape, standing at his knee. Seeing that
he continued to talk, apparently unconscious of her return, she took his
hand, opened the unresisting fingers, insinuated into them the
handkerchief, and closed them upon it one by one. He still seemed not
to see or to feel her; but by-and-by, he lifted her to his knee; she nestled
against him, and though neither looked at nor spoke to the other for an
hour following, I suppose both