But the sweet young girl was the daintiest thing these premises, within or without, could offer for contemplation:  delicately chiseled features, of Grecian cast; her complexion the pure snow of a japonica that is receiving a faint reflected enrichment from some scarlet neighbor of the garden; great, soft blue eyes fringed with long, curving lashes; an expression made up of the trustfulness of a child and the gentleness of a fawn; a beautiful head crowned with its own prodigal gold; a lithe and rounded figure, whose every attitude and movement was instinct with native grace.

Her dress and adornment were marked by that exquisite harmony that can come only of a fine natural taste perfected by culture.  Her gown was of a simple magenta tulle, cut bias, traversed by three rows of light-blue flounces, with the selvage edges turned up with ashes-of-roses chenille; overdress of dark bay tarlatan with scarlet satin lambrequins; corn-colored polonaise, en zanier, looped with mother-of-pearl buttons and silver cord, and hauled aft and made fast by buff velvet lashings; basque of lavender reps, picked out with valenciennes; low neck, short sleeves; maroon velvet necktie edged with delicate pink silk; inside handkerchief of some simple three-ply ingrain fabric of a soft saffron tint; coral bracelets and locket-chain; coiffure of forget-me-nots and lilies-of-the-valley massed around a noble calla.

This was all; yet even in this subdued attire she was divinely beautiful.  Then what must she have been when adorned for the festival or the ball?

All this time she had been busily chatting with Alonzo, unconscious of our inspection.  The minutes still sped, and still she talked.  But by and by she happened to look up, and saw the clock.  A crimson blush sent its rich flood through her cheeks, and she exclaimed: 

“There, good-by, Mr. Fitz Clarence; I must go now!”

She sprang from her chair with such haste that she hardly heard the young man’s answering good-by.  She stood radiant, graceful, beautiful, and gazed, wondering, upon the accusing clock.  Presently her pouting lips parted, and she said: 

“Five minutes after eleven!  Nearly two hours, and it did not seem twenty minutes!  Oh, dear, what will he think of me!”

At the self-same moment Alonzo was staring at his clock.  And presently he said: 

“Twenty-five minutes to three!  Nearly two hours, and I didn’t believe it was two minutes!  Is it possible that this clock is humbugging again?  Miss Ethelton!  Just one moment, please.  Are you there yet?”

“Yes, but be quick; I’m going right away.”

“Would you be so kind as to tell me what time it is?”

The girl blushed again, murmured to herself, “It’s right down cruel of him to ask me!” and then spoke up and answered with admirably counterfeited unconcern, “Five minutes after eleven.”

“Oh, thank you!  You have to go, now, have you?”