cceeding this disclosure, than I can retrace the experience of my
earliest year of life: and yet the first thing distinct to me is the
consciousness that I was speaking very fast, repeating over and over
again:--

"Did you do this, M. Paul? Is this your house? Did you furnish it? Did
you get these papers printed? Do you mean me? Am I the directress? Is
there another Lucy Snowe? Tell me: say something."

But he would not speak. His pleased silence, his laughing down-look,
his attitude, are visible to me now.

"How is it? I must know all--_all_," I cried.

The packet of papers fell on the floor. He had extended his hand, and I
had fastened thereon, oblivious of all else.

"Ah! you said I had forgotten you all these weary days," said he. "Poor
old Emanuel! These are the thanks he gets for trudging about three
mortal weeks from house-painter to upholsterer, from cabinet-maker to
charwoman. Lucy and Lucy's cot, the sole thoughts in his head!"

I hardly knew what to do. I first caressed the soft velvet on his cuff,
and then. I stroked the hand it surrounded. It was his foresight, his
goodness, his silent, strong, effective goodness, that overpowered me
by their proved reality. It was the assurance of his sleepless interest
which broke on me like a light from heaven; it was his--I will dare to
say it--his fond, tender look, which now shook me indescribably. In the
midst of all I forced myself to look at the practical.

"The trouble!" I cried, "and the cost! Had you money, M. Paul?"

"Plenty of money!" said he heartily. "The disposal of my large teaching
connection put me in possession of a handsome sum with part of it I
determined to give myself the richest treat that I _have_ known or
_shall_ know. I like this. I have reckoned on this hour day and night
lately. I would not come near you, because I would not forestall it.
Reserve is neither my virtue nor my vice. If I had put myself into your
power, and you had begun with your questions of look and lip--Where
have you been, M. Paul? What have you been doing? What is your
mystery?--my solitary first and last secret would presently have
unravelled itself in your lap. Now," he pursued, "you shall live here
and have a school; you shall employ yourself while I am away; you shall
think of me sometimes; you shall mind your health and happiness for my
sake, and when I come back--"

There he left a blank.

I promised to do all he told me. I promised to work hard and willingl