At Last - Page 86/170

"That is a new appearance."

"Who can she be?"

"Unique--is she not?" were queries bandied from one to another of

the various parties of guests scattered through the extensive

parlors of the most fashionable of Washington hotels, at the

entrance of a company of five or six late arrivals. All the persons

composing it were well dressed, and had the carriage of people of

means and breeding. Beyond this there was nothing noteworthy about

any of them, excepting the youngest of the three ladies of what

seemed to be a family group. When they stopped for consultation upon

their plans for this, their first evening in the capital, directly

beneath the central chandelier of the largest drawing-room, she

stood, unintentionally, perhaps, upon the outside of the little

circle, and not exerting herself to feign interest in the parley,

sought amusement in a keen, but polite survey of the assembly,

apparently in no wise disconcerted at the volley of glances she

encountered in return.

If she were always in the same looks she wore just now, she must

have been pretty well inured to batteries of admiration by this date

in her sunny life. She was below the medium of woman's stature,

round and pliant in form and limbs; in complexion dark as a gypsy

but with a clear skin that let the rise and fall of the blood

beneath be marked as distinctly as in that of the fairest blonde.

Her eyes were brown or black, it was hard to say which, so changeful

were their lights and shades; and her other features, however

unclassic in mould, if criticised separately, taken as a whole,

formed a picture of surpassing fascination. If her eyes and cleft

chin meant mischief, her mouth engaged to make amends by smiles and

seductive words, more sweet than honey, because their flavor would

never clog upon him who tasted thereof. Her attire was striking--it

would have been bizarre upon any other lady in the room, but it

enhanced the small stranger's beauty. A black robe--India silk or

silk grenadine, or some other light and lustrous material--was

bespangled with butterflies, gilded, green, and crimson, the many

folds of the skirt flowing to the carpet in a train designed to add

to apparent height, and, in front, allowing an enchanting glimpse of

a tiny slipper, high in the instep, and tapering prettily toward the

toe. In her hair were glints of a curiously-wrought chain, wound

under and among the bandeaux; on her wrists, plump and dimpled as a

baby's, more chain-work of the like precious metal, ending in

tinkling fringe that swung, glittering, to and fro, with the

restless motion of the elfin hands, she never ceased to clasp and

chafe and fret one with the other, while she thus stood and awaited

the decision of her companions. But instead of detracting from the

charm of her appearance, the seemingly unconscious gesture only

heightened it. It was the overflow of the exuberant vitality that

throbbed redly in her cheeks, flashed in her eye, and made buoyant

her step.