To this day I never fully understood why she thus risked her interest
for the sake of Dr. John. What people said, of course I know well: the
whole house--pupils, teachers, servants included--affirmed that she
was going to marry him. So they had settled it; difference of age
seemed to make no obstacle in their eyes: it was to be so.
It must be admitted that appearances did not wholly discountenance
this idea; Madame seemed so bent on retaining his services, so
oblivious of her former protege, Pillule. She made, too, such a point
of personally receiving his visits, and was so unfailingly cheerful,
blithe, and benignant in her manner to him. Moreover, she paid, about
this time, marked attention to dress: the morning dishabille, the
nightcap and shawl, were discarded; Dr. John's early visits always
found her with auburn braids all nicely arranged, silk dress trimly
fitted on, neat laced brodequins in lieu of slippers: in short the
whole toilette complete as a model, and fresh as a flower. I scarcely
think, however, that her intention in this went further than just to
show a very handsome man that she was not quite a plain woman; and
plain she was not. Without beauty of feature or elegance of form, she
pleased. Without youth and its gay graces, she cheered. One never
tired of seeing her: she was never monotonous, or insipid, or
colourless, or flat. Her unfaded hair, her eye with its temperate blue
light, her cheek with its wholesome fruit-like bloom--these things
pleased in moderation, but with constancy.
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