girls. In which conclusion Mrs. Dewsbury would not in the end have
been fully justified.

When Alan arrived, Herminia sat at the window by the quaintly
clipped box-tree, a volume of verse held half closed in her hand,
though she was a great deal too honest and transparent to pretend
she was reading it. She expected Alan to call, in accordance with
his promise, for she had seen at Mrs. Dewsbury's how great an
impression she produced upon him; and, having taught herself that
it was every true woman's duty to avoid the affectations and
self-deceptions which the rule of man has begotten in women, she
didn't try to conceal from herself the fact that she on her side
was by no means without interest in the question how soon he would
pay her his promised visit. As he appeared at the rustic gate in
the privet hedge, Herminia looked out, and changed color with
pleasure when she saw him push it open.

"Oh, how nice of you to look me up so soon!" she cried, jumping
from her seat (with just a glance at the glass) and strolling out
bareheaded into the cottage garden. "Isn't this a charming place?
Only look at our hollyhocks! Consider what an oasis after six
months of London!"

She seemed even prettier than last night, in her simple white
morning dress, a mere ordinary English gown, without affectation of
any sort, yet touched with some faint reminiscence of a flowing
Greek chiton. Its half-classical drapery exactly suited the severe
regularity of her pensive features and her graceful figure. Alan
thought as he looked at her he had never before seen anybody who
appeared at all points so nearly to approach his ideal of