youngest Miss Smith. "He is," replied Hamilton; "but I wish, my dear
young lady, that we all played as open and honest a game as our friend
yonder, and were as willing as he is to abide by its fortunes."

But Mr. Oakhurst was happily out of hearing of this colloquy, and was
even then lounging listlessly yet watchfully along the upper hall.
Suddenly he heard a light footstep behind him, and then his name called
in a familiar voice that drew the blood quickly to his heart. He turned,
and she stood before him.

But how transformed! If I have hesitated to describe the hollow-eyed
cripple, the quaintly-dressed artisan's wife, a few pages ago, what
shall I do with this graceful, shapely, elegantly-attired gentlewoman
into whom she has been merged within these two months? In good faith she
was very pretty. You and I, my dear madam, would have been quick to
see that those charming dimples were misplaced for true beauty, and too
fixed in their quality for honest mirthfulness; that the delicate lines
around these aquiline nostrils were cruel and selfish; that the sweet
virginal surprise of these lovely eyes were as apt to be opened on
her plate as upon the gallant speeches of her dinner partner; that her
sympathetic color came and went more with her own spirits than yours.
But you and I are not in love with her, dear madam, and Mr. Oakhurst
is. And, even in the folds of her Parisian gown, I am afraid this poor
fellow saw the same subtle strokes of purity that he had seen in her
homespun robe. And then there was the delightful revelation that she
could walk, and that she had dear little feet of her own in the tiniest
slippers of her French shoemaker, with such preposterous blue bows, and
Chappell's own stamp--Rue de something or other, Paris--on the narrow
sole.