CHAPTER II. PAULINA.

Somedayselapsed,anditappearedshewasnotlikelytotakemuchofafancytoanybodyinthehouse.Shewasnotexactlynaughtyorwilful:shewasfarfromdisobedientbutanobjectlessconducivetocomfort—totranquillityeven—thanshepresented,itwasscarcelypossibletohavebeforeone’seyes.Shemoped:nogrownpersoncouldhaveperformedthatuncheeringbusinessbetternofurrowedfaceofadultexile,longingforEuropeatEurope’santipodes,everboremorelegiblythesignsofhomesicknessthandidherinfantvisage.Sheseemedgrowingoldandunearthly.I,LucySnowe,pleadguiltlessofthatcurse,anoverheatedanddiscursiveimaginationbutwhenever,openingaroom-door,Ifoundherseatedinacorneralone,herheadinherpigmyhand,thatroomseemedtomenotinhabited,buthaunted. Andagain,whenofmoonlightnights,onwaking,Ibeheldherfigure,whiteandconspicuousinitsnight-dress,kneelinguprightinbed,andprayinglikesomeCatholicorMethodistenthusiast—someprecociousfanaticoruntimelysaint—IscarcelyknowwhatthoughtsIhadbuttheyranriskofbeinghardlymorerationalandhealthythanthatchild’smindmusthavebeen. Iseldomcaughtawordofherprayers,fortheywerewhisperedlow:sometimes,indeed,theywerenotwhisperedatall,butputupunutteredsuchraresentencesasreachedmyearstillboretheburden,“Papamydearpapa!”This,Iperceived,wasaone-idea’dnaturebetrayingthatmonomaniactendencyIhaveeverthoughtthemostunfortunatewithwhichmanorwomancanbecursed. Whatmighthavebeentheendofthisfretting,haditcontinuedunchecked,canonlybeconjectured:itreceived,however,asuddenturn. Oneafternoon,Mrs.Bretton,coaxingherfromherusualstationinacorner,hadliftedherintothewindow-seat,and,bywayofoccupyingherattention,toldhertowatchthepassengersandcounthowmanyladiesshouldgodownthestreetinagiventime.Shehadsatlistlessly,hardlylooking,andnotcounting,when—myeyebeingfixedonhers—Iwitnessedinitsirisandpupilastartlingtransfiguration.Thesesudden,dangerousnatures—sensitiveastheyarecalled—offermanyacuriousspectacletothosewhomacoolertemperamenthassecuredfromparticipationintheirangularvagaries.Thefixedandheavygazeswum,trembled,thenglitteredinfirethesmall,overcastbrowclearedthetrivialanddejectedfeatureslitupthesadcountenancevanished,andinitsplaceappearedasuddeneagerness,anintenseexpectancy.“Itis!”wereherwords. Likeabirdorashaft,oranyotherswiftthing,shewasgonefromtheroom.Howshegotthehouse-dooropenIcannottellprobablyitmightbeajarper