The match went out.
"Hollo! this won't do; we must have some light upon the subject. I can't say to you what I want to say unless I see your face--not comfortably, I can't; and I should like you to see mine as I'm saying it."
"I should like to see it too."
"Should you? Then you shall; there's a hanging lamp in the centre here; we'll see each other by its light. Now we'll pull down the blinds--capital blinds these are; well fitting. If there should be any suspicious characters about, they won't see us through these blinds; they're pretty nearly as good as shutters. Now, Miss Gilbert, with your very kind permission, I should like to see what you look like." By the lamp's glow the man and the girl surveyed each other; she standing very straight, and he stooping a little forward. He smiled; the smile giving his mouth an odd effect of being twisted. "You're like your father."
"Am I? Am I like my mother?"
"No; I don't think you are; not as I remember her."
"Did you know her well?"
"Very; once. But your resemblance to your father's weird. It isn't only features; it's the altogether--the way you have of looking at me--they might be your father's eyes; the way you have of holding yourself--just a little stiffly; the way your head's poised on your neck--as if it wouldn't bend; why, you've even got your father's hands--I noticed it as you pulled down the blind. You're his feminine replica."
"I'm glad of that."
"If he could only have heard you say that, before it was too late, what a difference it would have made! What--what a curious chap he was. If he could only come and see you now, he would see himself in you; he could not help it; and any lingering doubts he had would have gone for ever."