CHAPTER XXXIX.

MISS DIMPLETON.


Louise, the lapidary's daughter, was possessed of remarkable
loveliness; tall and graceful, she resembled the classic Juno for
regularity of features, and the huntress Diana for the finish of her
tall figure. In spite of her sunburned complexion, her rough and
freckled hands, beautifully formed, but hardened by domestic labor; in
spite of her humble garments, this girl possessed a nobility of
exterior.

We will not attempt to describe the gratitude and surprise of this
family, so abruptly snatched from a fearful fate; in the first burst
of happiness, even the death of the little girl was forgotten. Rudolph
alone remarked the extreme paleness of Louise, and the utter
abstraction with which she seemed oppressed, in spite of her father's
deliverance. Wishing to completely satisfy the Morels as to
apprehensions about the future, and to explain a liberality which
might otherwise betray suspicions as to the character he thought
proper to assume, Rudolph said to the lapidary, whom he took to the
landing (while Miss Dimpleton broke to Louise the news of her sister's
death):

"Yesterday morning a young lady came to see you."