Description
Villette
CHAPTER I.
BRETTON.
My godmother lived in a handsome house in the clean and ancient town of
Bretton. Her husband’s family had been residents there for generations,
and bore, indeed, the name of their birthplace–Bretton of Bretton:
whether by coincidence, or because some remote ancestor had been a
personage of sufficient importance to leave his name to his
neighbourhood, I know not.
When I was a girl I went to Bretton about twice a year, and well I
liked the visit. The house and its inmates specially suited me. The
large peaceful rooms, the well-arranged furniture, the clear wide
windows, the balcony outside, looking down on a fine antique street,
where Sundays and holidays seemed always to abide–so quiet was its
atmosphere, so clean its pavement–these things pleased me well.
One child in a household of grown people is usually made very much of,
and in a quiet way I was a good deal taken notice of by Mrs. Bretton,
who had been left a widow, with one son, before I knew her; her
husband, a physician, having died while she was yet a young and
handsome woman.
She was not young, as I remember her, but she was still handsome, tall,
well-made, and though dark for an Englishwoman, yet wearing always the
clearness of health in her brunette cheek, and its vivacity in a pair
of fine, cheerful black eyes. People esteemed it a grievous pity that
she had not conferred her complexion on her son, whose eyes were
blue–though, even in boyhood, very piercing–and the colour of his
long hair such as friends did not venture to specify, except as the sun
shone on it, when they called it golden. He inherited the lines of his
mother’s features, however; also her good teeth, her stature (or the
promise of her stature, for he was not yet full-grown),
Product ID: 9781776790845
Sku: 9781776790845
