Concerning her position and parentage, nothing was known.  She had met Adela’s delicately-searching touches in that direction with a marked reserve.  It was impossible to ask her point-blank, after probing her with a dozen suggestions, for the ingenuousness of an indifferent inquiry could not then be assumed, so that Adela was constantly baked and felt that she must some day be excessively ‘fond with her,’ which was annoying.  The girl lit up at any sign of affection.  A kind look gave Summer depths to her dark eyes.  Otherwise she maintained a simple discretion and walked in her own path, content to look quietly pleased on everybody, as one who had plenty to think of and a voice in her ear.

Apparently she was not to be taught to understand ‘limits’:  which must be explained as a sort of magnetic submissiveness to the variations of Polar caprice; so that she should move about with ease, be cheerful, friendly, and, at a signal, affectionate; still not failing to recognize the particular nooks where the family chalk had traced a line.  As the day of exhibition approached, Adela thought she would give her a lesson in limits.  She ventured to bestow a small caress on the girl, after a compliment; thinking that the compliment would be a check:  but the compliment was passed, and the caress instantly replied to with two arms and a tender mouth.  At which, Adela took fright and was glad to slip away.

At last the pudding flowed into the bag.

Emilia was posted by the ladies in a corner of the room.  Receiving her assurance that she was not hungry, they felt satisfied that she wanted nothing.  Wilfrid came up to her to console her for her loneliness, until Mr. Pericles had stationed himself at the back of her chair, and then Wilfrid nodded languidly and attended to his graver duties.  Who would have imagined that she had hurt him?  But she certainly looked with greater animation on Mr. Pericles; and when Tracy Runningbrook sat down by her, a perfect little carol of chatter sprang up between them.  These two presented such a noticeable contrast, side by side, that the ladies had to send a message to separate them.  She was perhaps a little the taller of the two; with smoothed hair that had the gloss of black briony leaves, and eyes like burning brands in a cave; while Tracy’s hair was red as blown flame, with eyes of a grey-green hue, that may be seen glistening over wet sunset.  People, who knew him, asked:  “Who is she?” and it was not in the design of the ladies to have her noted just yet.

Lady Gosstre’s exclamation on entering the room was presently heard.  “Well! and where’s our extraordinary genius?  Pray, let me see her immediately.”

Thereat Laura Tinley, with gross ill-breeding, rushed up to Arabella, who was receiving her ladyship, and touching her arm, as if privileges were permitted her, cried:  “I’m dying to see her.  Has she come?”

Arabella embraced the offensive girl in a hostess’s smile, and talked flowingly to the great lady.