Wasn't it sad?"
"Quite pretty, too," her friends had remarked, also ignoring the near
neighbourhood of the singer.
It did not seem to matter much. The stranger sat there calmly, proudly
unconscious of all that was said about her. Pretty!--the epithet was
well within the mark. Beautiful, rather--magnificently, splendidly
beautiful, with a noble presence and almost queenly air. Her small,
exquisitely-proportioned head, crowned with a coronet of deep chestnut
hair, was well poised upon a long, slender neck; she had a refined,
aristocratic face, with clear-cut features, a well-shaped, aquiline
nose, with slender nostrils; a perfect mouth, great lustrous dark
eyes, with brows and lashes rather darker than her hair. Her teeth
were perfect--perhaps she knew it, for her lower lip hung down a
little, constantly displaying their pearly whiteness, and adding
somewhat to the decided outline of the firm well-rounded chin.
Seated, her beauty claimed attention; but her appearance was still
more attractive when she stood up and moved across the room, to take
her seat at the piano. Her figure was tall and commanding, full, yet
faultless in outline, as that of one in the prime of ripe, rich
womanhood, and its perfect proportions were fully set off by her
close-fitting but perfectly plain black dress.
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