Lucy Snowe

“ Lucy Snowe, the English teacher in Villette, is far more pleasing than Jane Eyre; she is not so passionate, but her view of life is deeper and broader, and consequently kinder. And there is Paul Emanuel. Who would have believed the rejected professor would have grown into that scholar of middle age? He is so distinctly the foreigner in showing every emotion under which he is labouring. How pathetic and how lovable he is on the day of his fête when he thinks that the English governess has forgotten him, and has not brought even a flower to make the day happier for him! ”

“ The fury of the lady exposed in all her stealthy ways could scarcely have been less than the confusion of her spouse when he found himself held up to the admiration of his town as Lucy Snowe's captivating lover. To be sure it may be said the public has nothing to do with this. These individuals are dead and gone, and no exposure can hurt them any longer, whereas the gentle reader lives for ever, and goes on through the generations, handing on to posterity his delight in M. Paul. ”

“ No Mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wild Moor,
The sweetest Thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!
You yet may spy the Fawn at play,
The Hare upon the Green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.
"To-night will be a stormy night,
You to the Town must go,
And take a lantern, Child, to light
Your Mother thro' the snow."
"That, Father! will I gladly do;
'Tis scarcely afternoon—
The Minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the Moon."
At this the Father rais'd his hook
And snapp'd a faggot-band;
He plied his work, and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand. ”

“ Then, before Lucy could reply, she looked up in her face, with a smile hovering about the one side of her mouth, and said:
"But it's all nonsense, miss, when you're standing there. There isn't no such person as Syne, when you're there. I don't believe there is any such person. But," she added with a sigh, "when you're gone away—I don't know. But I think he's up stairs in the nursery now," she said, putting her hand to her big forehead. "No, no; there's no such person."
And Mattie tried to laugh outright, but failed in the attempt, and the tears rose in her eyes. ”

“ Lucy loved everybody at Bostil's Ford and everybody loved her. She loved all the horses except her father's favorite racer, that perverse devil of a horse, the great Sage King.
Lucy was glowing and rapt with love for all she beheld from her lofty perch: the green-and-pink blossoming hamlet beneath her, set between the beauty of the gray sage expanse and the ghastliness of the barren heights; the swift Colorado sullenly thundering below in the abyss; the Indians in their bright colors, riding up the river trail ”

“ Which is his real mother Lucy cannot quite make out, for she sees an immense party of black women, all shiny and polished, with a great many beads wound round their heads, necks, ankles, and wrists; and nothing besides the tiniest short petticoats: and all the fattest are the smartest; indeed, they have gourds of milk beside them, and are drinking it all day long to keep themselves fat. No sooner however is Lucy led in among them, than they all close round, some singing and dancing, and others laughing for joy, and crying, "Welcome, little daughter from the land of spirits!" ”

“ Lucy did not cry; though she found it very hard to refrain. Her father and mother, and Miss Anne and Royal, were all going, and she had to remain at home. They were going, too, in a kind of barouche; and when it drove up to the door, Lucy thought there would be plenty of room for her. She found it hard to submit; but submission was made somewhat easier by her mother’s not giving her any reasons. When a mother gives a girl reasons why she cannot have something which she is very strongly interested in, they seldom satisfy her, for she is not in a state of mind to consider them impartially. ”

“ She told herself that she could not pass another winter at Greystones, cooped up with the fearsome old woman, her great-grandmother. She would lose her wits if she did, or die; at any rate, lose her youth. Youth was not so much a matter of a few years as of happiness—the happy were always young, the sad old long before their time.
As Lucy sat on the bridge this fair autumn evening, herself as fair as a little rosy cloud floating overhead, although she was outwardly calm and unoccupied, she was listening, not with the best of grace, to two voices talking in her own soul. ”

“ In the corridor, Lucy (who in spite of Miss Snow’s watchfulness had not been quite cured of her propensity for looking over balustrades) flew down to her, in delight and surprise.
“Oh, Jane!” she uttered, clinging round her neck, “is it really you? How came you to come?”
Miss Snow would have found fault with the wording of the sentence. Jane only clasped her sister.
“I have come to see papa, Lucy. Is there no hope?”
“No hope!” echoed the child, staring at her sister. “Why, Jane, whatever made you think that? He is as much better as he can be. He is nearly well. ”

“ Lucy thought of a very good remark.
“You say Mr. Vyse wants me to listen to him, Mr. Emerson. Pardon me for suggesting that you have caught the habit.”
And he took the shoddy reproof and touched it into immortality. He said:
“Yes, I have,” and sank down as if suddenly weary. “I’m the same kind of brute at bottom. This desire to govern a woman—it lies very deep, and men and women must fight it together before they shall enter the garden. But I do love you surely in a better way than he does.” He thought. “Yes—really in a better way. ”

“ No, indeed! We meet at home, and out of doors," said Lucy; "my friend Annie and I walk together."
"Walk together! what, in the street? Shocking! You cannot be a lady."
"Indeed I am," said Lucy, colouring up. "My Papa is a gentleman. And see how many books we have, and how much we have to learn! French, and music, and sums, and grammar, and history, and geography."
"I will not be a Frank! No, no! I will not learn," said the alarmed Amina on hearing this catalogue poured forth.
"Geography is very nice," said Lucy; "here are our maps. I will show you where you live. ”

“ Lucy was staring at that back as though her maintaining her connection with it was her only link with the music. How tiresome that she should not be allowed to concentrate on her happiness! She violently dismissed the shadowy [Pg 120] Simon; but he was there, just behind her left shoulder. Then, with another effort of will, she forced away from her that attraction on the right. She would not look! In all probability, it was imagination. She had known in Hawkesworth, in church, at the Penny Readings, that sensation that people were staring at her; simply her self-consciousness. ”

“ Nothing, in the world or out of it, would have persuaded her that the young man did not at an early period love her, that he would have ultimately married her but for the stepping in between them of Lucy Cleeve: and there lay a very angry and bitter feeling against Lucy at the bottom of her heart. Not against Mr. Andinnian. The first shock over, she quite exonerated him, and threw all the weight of blame on Lucy. Is it not ever so--that woman, in a case of rivalry such as this, detests and misjudges the woman, and exempts the man?
But Miss Blake had a very strict conscience. ”

“ Lucy tried to do the same, but her limbs seemed like a wooden doll's compared with the suppleness and ease of Ines. She made sharp corners and angles, where the Spaniard floated so like a sea-bird that it was like seeing her fly or float rather than merely dance, till at last the very watching her rendered Lucy drowsy and dizzy; and as the church bells began to ring, and the chant of the procession to sound, she lost all sense of being in sunny Malaga, the home of grapes. ”

“ A cloud of images was in her brain, all bearing the beautiful but dreaded form of Helen Vaughan, and—some one touched her shoulder, and Lucy shivered and looked up.
It was Frederick Grey. What had he come out there for? He to see her in her abandonment of grief!
“Lucy!” he whispered, and the tone of his voice spoke of love if ever tone spoke it. “Lucy, are you ill?”
She would have been glad to fling his hand away, to fly from him, to meet his words with scorn; but she could not: for the heart will be true to itself, and the startled agitation unnerved her. She shook like a leaf. ”

“ His own room at Highbury, even that of his mother with Mr. Simon talking in it, rose before him like a haven of refuge. But between him and that haven lay an impassable gulf. No more returning thither. He must leave the country. And Lucy? He must vanish from [Pg 259] her eyes, that she might forget him and marry some one else. Was not that the only justice left him to do her? But would Lucy forget him? Why should she not? Women could forget honorable men whom they had loved, let them only be out of their sight long enough; and why should not Lucy forget a —? ”

“ Anyway, Lady Lucy, it was not much like hating you when God brought back your father from the prison and gave you such a nice home and such a nice lady to take care of you."
Lucy looked puzzled. "Did he do that? I never thought of that."
"Of course he did. He gives us all things. That is the reason we call him our Father, I suppose."
"I never thought of that," said Lucy, again. "I thought he was like a great king, who sat up in heaven and did not care what happened, only to punish people when they do wrong. I never thought of his being any thing like my father." ”

“ Isn’t it hard to describe someone you know? The chief thing about Lucy is that she’s a nice person, and it shows.”
“Does she miss her mother very much?” Vicki asked. “And her father?”
“Yes, terribly. Lucy’s such a loyal and warmhearted person. She always befriends lost dogs, and hungry cats, and people who need her.”
It was out of lonesomeness and a need to be with people, the neighbor said, that after her father died in an auto accident two years ago Lucy moved into downtown San Francisco to live with another girl and the girl’s mother. Also, Lucy wanted to be nearer her job. ”

“ Royal did wrong to say this; for Lucy had not boasted improperly of her age and powers,44 but only expressed a pleasure which it was very proper that she should feel at being intrusted by her mother with a mark of increased confidence in her strength and intelligence. Besides, even if Lucy had been vaingloriously boasting, her fall ought to have protected her from taunts; for whenever people are led into difficulty by their errors, the pain they feel is punishment enough. They do not need our reproaches. ”

“ But I never talk to him about Syne, because when I do he always looks so mournful. Perhaps he thinks it is wicked. He is so good himself, he has no idea how wicked a body can be."
Lucy thought it best to hurry away, that she might return the sooner; for she could not bear the child to be left alone in such a mood. ”

“ The few fir-trees that stood in the distance were heavily laden; and Lucy herself,—where was she? Going very fast? Yes, whisking over the snow with all her might and main, and muffled up in cloaks and furs, as indeed was necessary, for her breath froze upon the big muffler round her throat, so that it seemed to become as hard as a stone wall; and by her side was a little boy, muffled up quite as close, with a cap, or rather hood, casing his whole head, his hands gloved in fur up to the elbows, and long fur boots. ”

“ Simone sounded irritated.
"Well then, just a little sip," Lucy said to be agreeable.
"Good!"
What a funny smile, noted Lucy, like when a man is trying to get you drunk. "I love your black pajamas. When I'm home I walk around in my underwear," she chatted.
"Ah! It is so clever of you to wear grey. Most blondes believe it chic to wear black, but black is only for those of nondescript color, like myself."
"I certainly wouldn't call you nondescript," Lucy said admiringly, giving up the black ensemble.
Yes, the girl was a méchante. It would be a satisfaction to seduce her from Paul. ”

“ GETTING LOST. One afternoon, a short time after dinner, Lucy was sitting upon a seat under a trellis, near the door which led towards the garden, when her mother came out.
“Lucy,” said she, “I have got some rather bad news for you.”
“What is it?” said Lucy.
“I am rather afraid to tell you, for fear it will make you cry.”
“O no, mother; I shall not cry,” said Lucy.
“Well,” said her mother, “we shall see. The news is, that we are all going away this afternoon, and are going to leave you at home.”
“What, all alone?” said Lucy.
“Not quite alone; for Joanna will be here,” said her mother. ”

“ So Lucy had her little scarlet flannel dressing gown on, and her shoes and stockings, and a wonderful old knitted hood with a tippet to it, and then she was rolled round and round in all her bed-clothes, and Mrs. Bunker took her up like a very big baby, not letting any one else touch her. How Mrs. Bunker got safe down all the stairs no one can tell, but she did, and into the fly, and there poor little Lucy looked back and saw at the windows Mamma's face, and Papa's, and Maude's, and all the rest, all nodding and smiling to her, but Maude was crying all the time, and perhaps Mamma was too. ”

“ Lucy's ambition—a sledge, a thing without wheels, but gliding along most rapidly on the hard snow; flying, flying almost fast enough to take away her breath, and leaving birds, foxes, and any creature she saw for one instant, far behind. ”

“ Lucy reached down to assure herself that the cinch was tight, then she pulled her sombrero down hard, slackened the bridle, and let the King go. He simply broke his gait, he was so surprised. Lucy saw him trying to look back at her, as if he could not realize that this young woman rider had given him a free rein. Perhaps one reason he disliked her had been always and everlastingly that tight rein. Like the wary horse he was he took to a canter, to try out what his new freedom meant.
"Say, what's the matter with you?" called Lucy, disdainfully. "Are you lazy? ”