The large black eyes held a singular fascination in their mild, sparkling depths, now full of tender, loving light and childish gladness; and the flexible red lips curled in lines of orthodox Greek perfection, showing remarkable versatility of expression; while the broad, full, polished forehead with its prominent, swelling brows, could not fail to recall, to even casual observers, the calm, powerful face of Lorenzo de’ Medicis, which, if once looked on, fastens itself upon heart and brain, to be forgotten no more.  Her hair, black, straight, waveless as an Indian’s, hung around her shoulders, and glistened as the water from the dripping bucket trickled through the wreath of purple morning-glories and scarlet cypress, which she had twined about her head, ere lifting the cedar pail to its resting-place.  She wore a short-sleeved dress of yellow striped homespun, which fell nearly to her ankles, and her little bare feet gleamed pearly white on the green grass and rank dewy creepers that clustered along the margin of the bubbling spring.  Her complexion was unusually transparent, and early exercise and mountain air had rouged her cheeks till they matched the brilliant hue of her scarlet crown.  A few steps in advance of her stood a large, fierce yellow dog, with black, scowling face, and ears cut close to his head; a savage, repulsive creature, who looked as if he rejoiced in an opportunity of making good his name, “Grip.”  In the solemn beauty of that summer morning the girl seemed to have forgotten the mission upon which she came; but as she loitered, the sun flashed up, kindling diamond fringes on every dew-beaded chestnut leaf and oak-bough, and silvering the misty mantle which enveloped Lookout.  A moment longer that pure-hearted Tennessee child stood watching the gorgeous spectacle, drinking draughts of joy, which mingled no drop of sin or selfishness in its crystal waves; for she had grown up alone with nature—­utterly ignorant of the roar and strife, the burning hate and cunning intrigue of the great world of men and women, where, “like an Egyptian pitcher of tamed vipers, each struggles to get its head above the other.”  To her, earth seemed very lovely; life stretched before her like the sun’s path in that clear sky, and, as free from care or foreboding as the fair June day, she walked on, preceded by her dog—­and the chant burst once more from her lips: 

“He stood and measured the earth:  and the everlasting mountains were scattered, the perpetual hills—­”

The sudden, almost simultaneous report of two pistol-shots rang out sharply on the cool, calm air, and startled the child so violently that she sprang forward and dropped the bucket.  The sound of voices reached her from the thick wood bordering the path, and, without reflection, she followed the dog, who bounded off toward the point whence it issued.  Upon the verge of the forest she paused, and, looking down a dewy green glade where the rising sun darted the earliest arrowy