The forehead
was pure, womanly; intellectual enough, full enough, high enough, but
toned down to the sweet, womanly features. It was a fine face; a
vigorous, womanly one, unmarked with a single manly symptom, but
independent, pure and serene.
And what could set off this face better than that soft, light, blonde
hair, that wound into full, large ringlets, looped up in Grecian style?
In vain it is for me to describe the tints of it. It seemed as though
the Divine Artist had taken the beautiful colors from his palette and
mixed them for this especial head. There was a touch of sunshine in it
also, and it seems but yesterday that I saw the old gardener take a
stray one from the sleeve of his baize jacket, where by chance it had
strayed and caught--for the fair owner liked to visit the greenhouse--
and hold it admiringly and enthusiastically up in the morning sunlight,
and I remember the golden shimmer it had in it, for he called my
attention to it. A French writer's words seem to meet its description
better than my own: "Non pas rouges--Mais blonde avec des reflets
dor?s, on delicatement se jouait la lumi?re du soleil."
In distinction to the lady named before, the present one was short, of
fairly full figure, and not above the average grace.
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