her lap, she stood up; then, passing behind the old man, came and
stood before me, her eyes still bent on the ground--a picture of
humility.

She had the figure of the forest girl, but wore now a scanty
faded cotton garment, while the loose cloud of hair was confined
in two plaits and hung down her back. The face also showed the
same delicate lines, but of the brilliant animation and variable
colour and expression there appeared no trace. Gazing at her
countenance as she stood there silent, shy, and spiritless before
me, the image of her brighter self came vividly to my mind and I
could not recover from the astonishment I felt at such a
contrast.

Have you ever observed a humming-bird moving about in an aerial
dance among the flowers--a living prismatic gem that changes its
colour with every change of position--how in turning it catches
the sunshine on its burnished neck and gorges plumes--green and
gold and flame-coloured, the beams changing to visible flakes as
they fall, dissolving into nothing, to be succeeded by others and
yet others? In its exquisite form, its changeful splendour, its
swift motions and intervals of aerial suspension, it is a
creature of such fairy-like loveliness as to mock all
description. And have you seen this same fairy-like creature
suddenly perch itself on a twig, in the shade, its misty wings
and fan-like tail folded, the iridescent glory vanished, looking
like some common dull-plumaged little bird sitting listless in a
cage? Just so great was the difference in the girl as I had seen
her in the forest and as she now appeared under the smoky roof in
the firelight.