* * * * *
Whether she would or not, Eloise found herself in exactly the same
position in the house as before her adopted father's death,--partly
because almost all the company, being old friends, recognized no
difference, partly because Mr. St. George silently chose it should be
so. She soon forgot herself entirely in the pleasure of it, and was
unconsciously, even towards Mr. St. George, so sweet and genial, so
blithe and bewitching, that his scanning glance would suddenly have to
fall, since an expression, he felt, entered it that he dared not have
her see. There was always a certain disarray about the costume of
Eloise; one tress of her hair was always drooping too low, or one thrust
back behind the beautiful temple and tiny ear, or a bracelet was half
undone, or a mantle dropping off,--trifles that only gave one the desire
to help her; she constantly wore, too, a scarf or shawl, or something of
the kind, and the drapery lent her a kind of tender womanliness, which
only such things do; then, too, she garnished her hair with flowers
always half falling away, somewhat faded with the warmth, and emitting
strong, rich fragrances in dying. When she laughed, and the brilliant
little teeth sparkled a contrast with the dark smooth skin, when she
thought, and her eyes glowed like tear-washed stars, Mr.
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