Miss Arabella Bruce was a beauty. She had glorious masses of dark red
hair, and a dazzling white neck to set it off; large, dove-like eyes,
and a blooming oval face, which would have been classical if her lips
had been thin and finely chiseled; but here came in her Anglo-Saxon
breed, and spared society a Minerva by giving her two full and rosy
lips. They made a smallish mouth at rest, but parted ever so wide when
they smiled, and ravished the beholder with long, even rows of dazzling
white teeth.

Her figure was tall and rather slim, but not at all commanding. There
are people whose very bodies express character; and this tall, supple,
graceful frame of Bella Bruce breathed womanly subservience; so did her
gestures. She would take up or put down her own scissors half timidly,
and look around before threading her needle, as if to see whether any
soul objected. Her favorite word was "May I?" with a stress on the
"May," and she used it where most girls would say "I will," or nothing,
and do it.

Mr. Richard Bassett was in love with her, and also conscious that her
fifteen thousand pounds would be a fine addition to his present income,
which was small, though his distant expectations were great. As he had
known her but one month, and she seemed rather amiable than
inflammable, he had the prudence to proceed by degrees; and that is
why, though his eyes gloated on her, he merely regaled her with the
gossip of the day, not worth recording here. But when he had actually
taken his hat to go, Bella Bruce put him a question that had been on
her mind the whole time, for which reason she had reserved it to the
very last moment.

"Is Sir Charles Bassett in town?" said she, mighty carelessly, but