I traced in the gesture, the port, and the habits of his manhood, all his boy's promise.

I heard in his now deep tones the accent of former days.

Certain turns of phrase, peculiar to him of old, were peculiar to him still; and so was many a trick of eye and lip, many a smile, many a sudden ray levelled from the irid, under his well-charactered brow.
To _say_ anything on the subject, to _hint_ at my discovery, had not suited my habits of thought, or assimilated with my system of feeling.
On the contrary, I had preferred to keep the matter to myself.

I liked entering his presence covered with a cloud he had not seen through, while he stood before me under a ray of special illumination which shone all partial over his head, trembled about his feet, and cast light no farther.
Well I knew that to him it could make little difference, were I to come forward and announce, "This is Lucy Snowe!" So I kept back in my teacher's place; and as he never asked my name, so I never gave it.

He heard me called "Miss," and "Miss Lucy;" he never heard the surname, "Snowe." As to spontaneous recognition--though I, perhaps, was still less changed than he--the idea never approached his mind, and why should I suggest it?
During tea, Dr.John was kind, as it was his nature to be; that meal over, and the tray carried out, he made a cosy arrangement of the cushions in a corner of the sofa, and obliged me to settle amongst them.