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Strange Story, a — Volume 02 by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton
page 59 of 76 (77%)
vivid under the flush of a brilliant sunshine; and the ripple of a soft
western breeze. Music, loud and lively, mingled with the laughter of
happy children, who formed much the larger number of the party.

Standing at the entrance of an arched trellis, that led from the hardier
flowers of the lawn to a rare collection of tropical plants under a lofty
glass dome (connecting, as it were, the familiar vegetation of the North
with that of the remotest East), was a form that instantaneously caught
and fixed my gaze. The entrance of the arcade was covered with parasite
creepers, in prodigal luxuriance, of variegated gorgeous tints,--scarlet,
golden, purple; and the form, an idealized picture of man's youth fresh
from the hand of Nature, stood literally in a frame of blooms.

Never have I seen human face so radiant as that young man's. There was in
the aspect an indescribable something that literally dazzled. As one
continued to gaze, it was with surprise; one was forced to acknowledge
that in the features themselves there was no faultless regularity; nor was
the young man's stature imposing, about the middle height. But the effect
of the whole was not less transcendent. Large eyes, unspeakably lustrous;
a most harmonious colouring; an expression of contagious animation and
joyousness; and the form itself so critically fine, that the welded
strength of its sinews was best shown in the lightness and grace of its
movements.

He was resting one hand carelessly on the golden locks of a child that had
nestled itself against his knees, looking up to his face in that silent
loving wonder with which children regard something too strangely beautiful
for noisy admiration; he himself was conversing with the host, an old
gray-haired, gouty man, propped on his crutched stick, and listening with
a look of mournful envy. To the wealth of the old man all the flowers in
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