"What shall I wear?"
"Wear? Well, I think that dark brown satin is the most becoming of your
dinner gowns--and dress your hair behind very high and loosely, with the
carved shell comb--and those long brown curls, Maggie, push them behind
your pretty ears; your face does not need them, and behind the ears they
are bewitching."
Maggie laughed. She liked handsome dress, and it pleased her to be called
handsome. She had indeed a good many womanly foibles, and was perhaps the
more loveable for them. Dr. Johnson thought that a man who did not care
for his dinner would not care for more important things; and it is certain
that a woman who does not care for her dress is very likely to be a
mental, perhaps also a moral, sloven.
Mary had hoped to signalize her delight in her uncle's visit by going down
stairs to dine with him; but the day was unusually damp and cold, and her
proposal met with such strong opposition that she resigned the idea.
She dressed herself early in a pretty chamber gown of pink silk trimmed
with minever; but in spite of the rosy color, the pallor of her sickness
and long confinement was very perceptible. The train that was to bring
John Campbell reached Ayr at four o'clock, and Maggie saw the carriage
hurrying off to meet it, as she went to her room to dress for dinner. In
less than an hour there was the stir of an arrival, and John Campbell's
slow, heavy tread upon the stairs, and Mary's cry of joy as she met him in
the upper corridor.
Maggie went on dressing with an increase of happiness; she felt Mary's
pleasure as if it were her own. With a natural and exquisite taste, she
raised high the loose soft coils of her nut-brovn hair; and let fall in
long and flowing grace the rich folds of nut-brown satin that robed her.
She wore no ornaments of any kind, except a cluster of white asters in her
belt, which Mary had given her from those brought for her own use.
She was just fastening them there when Mary entered. "You lovely woman!"
she cried enthusiastically. "I think you must look like Helen of Troy. I
have a mind to call you Helen. Have you reflected that you will have to be
Uncle John's host? So before I take you to him, go down stairs, dear, and
see if the table is pretty, and all just as I should like to have it for
him. And if there are no flowers on the table, Maggie, go to the
conservatory and cut the loveliest you can find--only if you stay too
long, I shall send Uncle John to find you."
She passed out nodding and smiling and looking unusually beautiful and
happy. Maggie found that the dinner table was splendidly laid, but it was,
as she expected, destitute of flowers, because it had always been either
Mary's or her own pleasure to cut them. The conservatory was an addition
to the large double drawing-rooms on the opposite side of the hall, and
she was rather astonished to see that the fires had been lighted in them.
At the entrance of the conservatory she stood a moment, wondering if she
could reach a superb white camellia, shining above her like a star among
its dark green leaves. As she hesitated, Allan opened the door, and walked
straight to the hearth. He did not see Maggie, and her first impulse was
to retreat into the shadow of some palms beside her. A slight movement
made him turn. She stood there smiling, blushing, waiting.