self as part of my nature. But
the strength of longing must be put by; and I put it by, and fastened it
in with the lock of a resolution which neither time nor temptation has
since picked.

It was at this school fete that I discovered the identity of Miss
Fanshawe's M. Isidore. She whispered to me, after the play: "Isidore and
Alfred de Hamal are both here!" The latter I found was a straight-nosed,
correct-featured little dandy, nicely dressed, curled, booted, and
gloved; and Isidore was the manly English Dr. John, who attended the
pupils of the school, and was none other than the gentleman whose
directions to an hotel I had failed to follow on the night of my arrival
in Villette. And the puppet, the manikin--a mere lackey for Dr. John,
his valet, his foot-boy, was the favoured admirer of Ginevra Fanshawe!

_III.--Old Friends are Best_

During the long vacation I stayed at the school, and, in the absence of
companionship and the sedative of work, suffered such agonising
depression as led to physical illness, until one evening, after
wandering aimlessly in the city, I fell fainting as I tried to reach the
porch of a great church. When I recovered consciousness, I found myself
in a room that smiled "Auld lang syne" out of every nook.

Where was I? The furniture was that with which I had been so intimate in
the drawing-room of my godmother's house at Bretton. Nay, there, on the
linen of my bed, were my godmothers initials "L.L.B."; and there was the
portrait that used to hang over the mantelpiece in the breakfast-room in
the old house at Bretton. I audibly pronounced the name--"Graham!"

"Graham!" echoed a sudden voice at my bedside. "Do you want Graham?"

She was little changed; something sterner, something more robust, but it
was my godmother, Mrs. Bretton.

"How was I found, madam?"

"My son shall tell you by and by," said she. "I am told you are an
English teacher in a foreign school here."

Before evening I was downstairs, and seated in a corner, when Graham
arrived home, and entered with the question: "How is your patient,
mamma?"

At Mrs. Bretton's invitation, I came forward to speak for myself where
he stood at the hearth, a figure justifying his mother's pride.

"Much better," I said calmly; "much better, I thank you Dr. John."

For this tall young man, this host of mine, was Dr. John, and I had been
aware of his identity for some time.

Ere we had sat ten minutes, I caught the eye of Mrs. Brett