She was very beautiful. Her morning costume was light and graceful,
and her whole toilet showed just enough of neglige to add interest
to the simplicity of her personal attire. Her dark, jetty hair
contrasted strongly with the pure white of her dress, and there was
not an ornament upon her person, save those that nature had lavished
there in prodigal abundance. She had never looked more lovely than
at that hour; the years that had passed since the reader met her in
familiar conversation with our hero, had only served still more to
perfect and ripen her personal charms. Though there had stolen over
her features a subdued air of thoughtfulness, a gentle tinge of
melancholy, yet it became her far better than the one of constant
levity and jest that had almost universally possessed her
heretofore.
Her eyes now rested upon the floor, and the long silken lashes
seemed almost artificial in their effect upon the soft olive
complexion beneath their shadow. No wonder Ruez loved his sister so
dearly; no wonder he felt proud of her while he gazed at her there;
nor was it strange that he strove to read her heart as he did,
though he kept his own counsel upon the subject.
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