in a niche of the curtain-wall, reclined a girlish shape; and
asleep on the bench over which she leaned was a white cat--the
identical Persian as it seemed--that had been taken into the
carriage at the chapel-door.

Somerset began to muse on the probability or otherwise of the
backsliding Baptist and this young lady resulting in one and
the same person; and almost without knowing it he found
himself deeply hoping for such a unity. The object of his
inspection was idly leaning, and this somewhat disguised her
figure. It might have been tall or short, curvilinear or
angular. She carried a light sunshade which she fitfully
twirled until, thrusting it back over her shoulder, her head
was revealed sufficiently to show that she wore no hat or
bonnet. This token of her being an inmate of the castle, and
not a visitor, rather damped his expectations: but he
persisted in believing her look towards the chapel must have a
meaning in it, till she suddenly stood erect, and revealed
herself as short in stature--almost dumpy--at the same time
giving him a distinct view of her profile. She was not at all
like the heroine of the chapel. He saw the dinted nose of the
De Stancys outlined with Holbein shadowlessness against the
blue-green of the distant wood. It was not the De Stancy face
with all its original specialities: it was, so to speak, a
defective reprint of that face: for the nose tried hard to
turn up and deal utter confusion to the family shape.

As for the rest of the countenance, Somerset was obliged to
own that it was not beautiful: Nature had done there many
things that she ought not to have done, and left undone much