On the wall of the drawing-room there hung a water-colour portrait of a very young and very handsome man, with longish wavy hair, features refined to weakness, dreamy, languid eyes, and a coat the very image of my great-grandfather's.

The picture hung near the door; and as Mr.Bertrand Vandaleur passed in or out, I well remember that he almost always glanced at the sketch, as people glance at themselves in passing a mirror.
I was too young then to notice this as being a proof that the drawing was a portrait of himself; but I remember being much struck by the likeness between the coat in the picture and that my great-grandfather wore, and also by the way that the hair was thrown back from the high, narrow forehead, just as my great-grandfather's grey hairs were combed away from his brow.

Children are great admirers of beauty too, especially, I think, of an effeminate style of good looks, and are very susceptible to the power of expression in faces.

I had a romantic admiration for "the handsome man by the door," and his eyes haunted me about the room.
I was kneeling on a chair and examining the sketch one morning, when my great-grandfather came up to me, "Who is it, little one ?" said he.
I looked at the picture.

I looked at my great-grandfather's coat.