The looks and
manner of the youthful female, at that moment,
would have been a study to those who love to dwell
on the better and purer beings of creation. She was
silent, as we have already remarked, because she
could make no answer to a speech that either
meant every thing or nothing. The slight tinge that
usually was seated on her cheek spreading over its
whole surface like the faintest glow of sunset
blending, by mellow degrees, with the surrounding
clouds, was heightened to richness, and even
diffused itself like a reflection, across her polished
forehead, because she believed she was about to
listen to a declaration that her years and her
education united to tell her was never to approach
female ears without slightly trespassing on the
delicacy of her sex. Her mild blue eyes, beaming
with the glow on her face, rose and fell from the
carpet to the countenance of Delafield, but chiefly
dwelt in open charity, and possibly in anxiety, on
his own. In fact, there was thrown around her whole
air, such a touch of exquisite and shrinking
delicacy, so blended with feeling benevolence, and
even tender interest, that it was no wonder that a
man, handsome to perfection, young, intelligent,
and rich, mistook her feelings.
"Pardon me, Miss Henley," he cried, and the
apology was unconsciously paid to the commanding
purity and dignity of her air, "if I overstep the rules
of decorum, and hasten to declare that which I
know years of trial would hardly justify my saying;
but your beauty, your grace, your----your----where
shall I find words to express it?--your loveliness,
yes, that means every thing--your loveliness has
not been seen with impunity.
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