Why had mademoiselle never mentioned this young girl, so fair, so
lovely? Why had she told me nothing about her? I should like to describe
her, reader, so as to make you love her. She was tall, very little above
the medium height, slender, graceful, with a delicate, arched neck and
the "fairest face the sun e'er shone on." Not beautiful--that word would
not describe her; fair, sweet and lovely. She had no brilliant or vivid
coloring; her complexion was clear, with the faintest rose-bloom; her
eyes large and blue, her lips sweet and sensitive; a white brow and a
wealth of soft, brown hair. She was no queenly beauty; she had not
Coralie's brilliancy and bright coloring, but she was the fairest and
most lovable girl who ever made a man's heart glad.

I did not know how the next few minutes passed. Sir John and Lady
Thesiger were talking about the neighborhood, and I was thinking that if
Agatha bid me lie down there at her feet and die for her sweet sake, I
should do so with a smile.

When I came to my senses, Lady Thesiger was asking me if I would dine
with them the week following; they were expecting some visitors from
London. I am sure she must have thought me almost an imbecile, I
answered her in such a confused, hesitating way.

All the time Agatha sat opposite to me, her lovely eyes drooping over
the drawing on which she was engaged when I entered. I could bear it no
longer; come what might, I must see those eyes. I went over and stood by
her side.

Alas! I had rarely, if ever, spoken to any young ladies except Clare and
Coralie. I had crossed the room purposely to speak to her. Standing by