of the school.  At this juncture a portly, ruddy-faced lady of middle age and most courteous of speech and manner appeared, and, addressing us in faultless English, introduced herself as Mademoiselle Heger, co-directress of the pensionnat, and “wholly at our service.”  In response to our apologies for the intrusion and explanations of the desire which had prompted it, we received complaisant assurances of welcome; yet the manner of our kind entertainer indicated that she did not appreciate, much less share in, our admiration and enthusiasm for Charlotte Bronte and her books.  In the subsequent conversation it appeared that Mademoiselle and her family hold decided opinions upon the subject,—­something more than mere lack of admiration.  She was familiar with the novels, and thought that, while they exhibit a talent certainly not above mediocrity, they reflect the injustice, the untruthfulness, and the ingratitude of their creator.  We were obliged to confess to ourselves that the family have apparent reason for this view, when we reflected that in the books Miss Bronte has assailed their religion and disparaged the school and the character of the teachers and pupils, has depicted Madame Heger in the odious duad of Madame Beck and Mademoiselle Reuter, has represented M. Heger as the scheming and deceitful M. Pelet and the preposterous M. Paul, Lucy Snowe’s lover, that this lover was the husband of Madame Heger, and father of the family of children to whom Lucy was at first bonne d’enfants, and that possibly the daughter she has described as the thieving, vicious Desiree—­“that tadpole, Desiree Beck”—­was this very lady now so politely entertaining us.  To all this add the significant fact that “Villette” is an autobiographical novel, which “records the most vivid passages in Miss Bronte’s own sad heart’s history,” not a few of the incidents being “literal transcripts” from the darkest chapter of her own life, and the light which the consideration of this fact throws upon her relations with members of the family will help us to apprehend the stand-point from which the Hegers judge Miss Bronte and her work, and to excuse, if not to justify, a natural resentment against one who has presented them in a decidedly bad light.

How bad we began to realize when, during the ensuing chat, we called to mind just what she had written of them.  As Madame Beck, Madame Heger had been represented as lying, deceitful, and shameless, as heartless and unscrupulous, as “watching and spying everywhere, peeping through every keyhole, listening behind every door,” as duplicating Lucy’s keys and secretly searching her bureau, as meanly abstracting her letters and reading them to others, as immodestly laying herself out to entrap the man to whom she had given her love unsought.  In letters to her friend Ellen, Miss Bronte complains that “Madame Heger never came near her” in her loneliness and illness.