Standing there, his heart throbbing as it had never done before, every
nerve thrilling, his face flushed, a strange, unknown sensation filling
him with vague, sweet wonder, Lord Arleigh met his fate.
This was the picture he saw--a beautiful but by no means a common one.
In the trellised arbor, which contained a stand and one or two chairs,
was a young girl of tall, slender figure, with a fair, sweet face,
inexpressibly lovely, lilies and roses exquisitely blended--eyes like
blue hyacinths, large, bright, and starlight, with white lids and dark
long lashes, so dark that they gave a peculiar expression to the
eyes--one of beauty, thought, and originality. The lips were sweet and
sensitive, beautiful when smiling, but even more beautiful in repose.
The oval contour of the face was perfect; from the white brow, where the
veins were so clearly marked, rose a crown of golden hair, not brown or
auburn, but of pure pale gold--a dower of beauty in itself.
The expression of the face was one of shy virgin beauty. One could
imagine meeting it in the dim aisles of some cathedral, near the shrine
of a saint, as an angel or a Madonna; one could imagine it bending over
a sick child, lighting with its pure loveliness the home of sorrow; but
one could never picture it in a ball-room.
Pages:
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189