Theelderlylady，whenIwaspresentedtoher，provedtobeMissFairlie’sformergoverness，MrsVesey，whohadbeenbrieflydescribedtomebymylivelycompanionatthebreakfast-table，aspossessedof`allthecardinalvirtues，andcountingfornothing。’IcandolittlemorethanoffermyhumbletestimonytothetruthfulnessofMissHalcombe’ssketchoftheoldlady’scharacter。MrsVeseylookedthepersonificationofhumancomposureandfemaleamiability。Acalmenjoymentofacalmexistencebeamedindrowsysmilesonherplump，placidface。Someofusrushthroughlife，andsomeofussaunterthroughlife。MrsVeseysatthroughlife。Satinthehouse，earlyandlate；satinthegarden；satinunexpectedwindow-seatsinpassages；
　　satonacamp-stoolwhenherfriendstriedtotakeheroutwalking；satbeforeshelookedatanything，beforeshetalkedofanything，beforesheansweredYes，orNo，tothecommonestquestion——alwayswiththesameserenesmileonherlips，thesamevacantly-attentiveturnofthehead，thesamesnugly-comfortablepositionofherhandsandarms，undereverypossiblechangeofdomesticcircumstances。Amild，acompliant，anunutterablytranquilandharmlessoldlady，whoneverbyanychancesuggestedtheideathatshehadbeenactuallyalivesincethehourofherbirth。Naturehassomuchtodointhisworld，andisengagedingeneratingsuchavastvarietyofco-existentproductions，thatshemustsurelybenowandthentooflurriedandconfusedtodistinguishbetweenthedifferentprocessesthatsheiscarryingonatthesametime。Startingfromthispointofview，itwillalwaysremainmyprivatepersuasionthatNaturewasabsorbedinmakingcabbageswhenMrsVeseywasborn，andthatthegoodladysufferedtheconsequencesofavegetablepreoccupationinthemindoftheMotherofusall。
　　`Now，MrsVesey，’saidMissHalcombe，lookingbrighter，sharper，andreadierthanever，bycontrastwiththeundemonstrativeoldladyatherside，`whatwillyouhave？Acutlet？’
　　MrsVeseycrossedherdimpledhandsontheedgeofthetable，smiledplacidly，andsaid，`Yes。dear。’
　　`WhatisthatoppositeMrHartright？Boiledchicken，isitnot？Ithoughtyoulikedboiledchickenbetterthancutlet，MrsVesey？’
　　MrsVeseytookherdimpledhandsofftheedgeofthetableandcrossedthemonherlapinstead；noddedcontemplativelyattheboiledchicken，andsaid，`Yes，dear。’
　　`Well，butwhichwillyouhave，today？ShallMrHartrightgiveyousomechicken？orshallIgiveyousomecutlet？’
　　MrsVeseyputoneofherdimpledhandsbackagainontheedgeofthetable；hesitateddrowsily，andsaid，`Whichyouplease，dear。’
　　`Mercyonme！it’saquestionforyourtaste，mygoodlady，notformine。Supposeyouhavealittleofboth？andsupposeyoubeginwiththechicken，becauseMrHartrightlooksdevouredbyanxietytocarveforyou。’
　　MrsVeseyputtheotherdimpledhandbackontheedgeofthetable；
　　brighteneddimlyonemoment；wentoutagainthenext；bowedobediently，andsaid，`Ifyouplease，sir。’
　　Surelyamild，acompliant，anunutterablytranquilandharmlessoldlady！Butenough，perhaps，forthepresent，ofMrsVesey。
　　Allthistime，therewerenosignsofMissFairlie。Wefinishedourluncheon；andstillsheneverappeared。MissHalcombe，whosequickeyenothingescaped，noticedthelooksthatIcast，fromtimetotime，inthedirectionofthedoor。
　　`Iunderstandyou，MrHartright，’shesaid；`youarewonderingwhathasbecomeofyourotherpupil。Shehasbeendownstairs，andhasgotoverherheadache；buthasnotsufficientlyrecoveredherappetitetojoinusatlunch。Ifyouwillputyourselfundermycharge，IthinkIcanundertaketofindhersomewhereinthegarden。’
　　Shetookupaparasollyingonachairnearher，andledthewayout，byalongwindowatthebottomoftheroom，whichopenedontothelawn。
　　ItisalmostunnecessarytosaythatweleftMrsVeseystillseatedatthetable，withherdimpledhandsstillcrossedontheedgeofit；apparentlysettledinthatpositionfortherestoftheafternoon。
　　Aswecrossedthelawn，MissHalcombelookedatmesignificantly，andshookherhead。
　　`Thatmysteriousadventureofyours，’shesaid，`stillremainsinvolvedinitsownappropriatemidnightdarkness。Ihavebeenallthemorninglookingovermymother’sletters，andIhavemadenodiscoveriesyet。However，don’tdespair，MrHartright。Thisisamatterofcuriosity；andyouhavegotawomanforyourally。Undersuchconditionssuccessiscertain，soonerorlater。Thelettersarenotexhausted。Ihavethreepacketsstillleft，andyoumayconfidentlyrelyonmyspendingthewholeeveningoverthem。’
　　Here，then，wasoneofmyanticipationsofthemorningstillunfulfilled。
　　Ibegantowonder，next，whethermyintroductiontoMissFairliewoulddisappointtheexpectationsthatIhadbeenformingofhersincebreakfast-time。
　　`AndhowdidyougetonwithMrFairlie？’inquiredMissHalcombe，asweleftthelawnandturnedintoashrubbery。`Washeparticularlynervousthismorning？Nevermindconsideringaboutyouranswer，MrHartright。Themerefactofyourbeingobligedtoconsiderisenoughforme。Iseeinyourfacethathewasparticularlynervous；and，asIamamiablyunwillingtothrowyouintothesamecondition，Iasknomore。’
　　Weturnedoffintoawindingpathwhileshewasspeaking，andapproachedaprettysummer-house，builtofwood，intheformofaminiatureSwisschalet。Theoneroomofthesummerhouse，asweascendedthestepsofthedoor，wasoccupiedbyayounglady。Shewasstandingneararustictable，lookingoutattheinlandviewofmoorandhillpresentedbyagapinthetrees，andabsentlyturningovertheleavesofalittlesketch-bookthatlayatherside。ThiswasMissFairlie。
　　HowcanIdescribeher？HowcanIseparateherfrommyownsensations，andfromallthathashappenedinthelatertime？HowcanIseeheragainasshelookedwhenmyeyesfirstrestedonher——assheshouldlook，now，totheeyesthatareabouttoseeherinthesepages？
　　Thewater-colourdrawingthatImadeofLauraFairlie，atanafterperiod，intheplaceandattitudeinwhichIfirstsawher，liesonmydeskwhileIwrite。Ilookatit，andtheredawnsuponmebrightly，fromthedarkgreenish-brownbackgroundofthesummer-house，alight，youthfulfigure，clothedinasimplemuslindress，thepatternofitformedbybroadalternatestripesofdelicateblueandwhite。Ascarfofthesamematerialsitscrisplyandcloselyroundhershoulders，andalittlestrawhatofthenaturalcolour，plainlyandsparinglytrimmedwithribbontomatchthegown，coversherhead，andthrowsitssoftpearlyshadowovertheupperpartofherface。Herhairisofsofaintandpaleabrown——notflaxen，andyetalmostaslight；notgolden，andyetalmostasglossy——thatitnearlymelts，hereandthere，intotheshadowofthehat。Itisplainlypartedanddrawnbackoverherears，andthelineofitripplesnaturallyasitcrossesherforehead。Theeyebrowsareratherdarkerthanthehair；andtheeyesareofthatsoft，limpid，turquoiseblue，sooftensungbythepoets，soseldomseeninreallife。Lovelyeyesincolour，lovelyeyesinform——
　　largeandtenderandquietlythoughtful——butbeautifulaboveallthingsinthecleartruthfulnessoflookthatdwellsintheirinmostdepths，andshinesthroughalltheirchangesofexpressionwiththelightofapurerandabetterworld。Thecharm——mostgentlyandyetmostdistinctlyexpressed——whichtheyshedoverthewholeface，socoversandtransformsitslittlenaturalhumanblemisheselsewhere，thatitisdifficulttoestimatetherelativemeritsanddefectsoftheotherfeatures。Itishardtoseethatthelowerpartofthefaceistoodelicatelyrefinedawaytowardsthechintobeinfullandfairproportionwiththeupperpart；thatthenose，inescapingtheaquilinebendalwayshardandcruelinawoman，nomatterhowabstractedlyperfectitmaybe，haserredalittleintheotherextreme，andhasmissedtheidealstraightnessofline；andthatthesweet，sensitivelipsaresubjecttoaslightnervouscontraction，whenshesmiles，whichdrawsthemupwardalittleatonecorner，towardsthecheek。Itmightbepossibletonotetheseblemishesinanotherwoman’sface，butitisnoteasytodwellontheminhers，sosubtlyaretheyconnectedwithallthatisindividualandcharacteristicinherexpression，andsocloselydoestheexpressiondependforitsfullplayandlife，ineveryotherfeature，onthemovingimpulseoftheeyes。
　　Doesmypoorportraitofher，myfond，patientlabouroflongandhappydays，showmethesethings？Ah，howfewofthemareinthedimmechanicaldrawing，andhowmanyinthemindwithwhichIregardit！Afair，delicategirl，inaprettylightdress，triflingwiththeleavesofasketch-book，whileshelooksupfromitwithtruthful，innocentblueeyes——thatisallthedrawingcansay；all，perhaps，thateventhedeeperreachofthoughtandpencansayintheirlanguage，either。Thewomanwhofirstgiveslife，light，andformtoourshadowyconceptionsofbeauty，fillsavoidinourspiritualnaturethathasremainedunknowntoustillsheappeared。Sympathiesthatlietoodeepforwords，toodeepalmostforthoughts，aretouched，atsuchtimes，byothercharmsthanthosewhichthesensesfeelandwhichtheresourcesofexpressioncanrealise。Themysterywhichunderliesthebeautyofwomenisneverraisedabovethereachofallexpressionuntilithasclaimedkindredwiththedeepermysteryinourownsouls。Then，andthenonly，hasitpassedbeyondthenarrowregiononwhichlightfalls，inthisworld，fromthepencilandthepen。
　　Thinkofherasyouthoughtofthefirstwomanwhoquickenedthepulseswithinyouthattherestofhersexhadnoarttostir。Letthekind，candidblueeyesmeetyours，astheymetmine，withtheonematchlesslookwhichwebothremembersowell。Lethervoicespeakthemusicthatyouoncelovedbest，attunedassweetlytoyourearastomine。Letherfootstep，asshecomesandgoes，inthesepages，belikethatotherfootsteptowhoseairyfallyourownheartoncebeattime。Takeherasthevisionarynurslingofyourownfancy；andshewillgrowuponyou，allthemoreclearly，asthelivingwomanwhodwellsinmine。
　　Amongthesensationsthatcrowdedonme，whenmyeyesfirstlookeduponher——familiarsensationswhichweallknow，whichspringtolifeinmostofourhearts，dieagaininsomany，andrenewtheirbrightexistenceinsofew——therewasonethattroubledandperplexedme：onethatseemedstrangelyinconsistentandunaccountablyoutofplaceinMissFairlie’spresence。
　　Minglingwiththevividimpressionproducedbythecharmofherfairfaceandhead，hersweetexpression，andherwinningsimplicityofmanner，wasanotherimpression，which，inashadowyway，suggestedtometheideaofsomethingwanting。Atonetimeitseemedlikesomethingwantinginher：atanother，likesomethingwantinginmyself，whichhinderedmefromunderstandingherasIought。Theimpressionwasalwaysstrongestinthemostcontradictorymanner，whenshelookedatme；or，inotherwords，whenIwasmostconsciousoftheharmonyandcharmofherface，andyet，atthesametime，mosttroubledbythesenseofanincompletenesswhichitwasimpossibletodiscover。Somethingwanting，somethingwanting——andwhereitwas，andwhatitwas，Icouldnotsay。