84 THE LADY PILGRIM. 
brow, and confined behind with a small comb, 
studded with diamonds. As the old servant 
opened the door, she raised her large blue eyes 
from the book where they had been resting, and 
displayed a face remarkable for the purity and 
sweetness of its expression, rather than for its 
beauty. She was evidently one of those gentle 
beings who make the paths they chance to tread 
in life seem smooth and thornless — one whose 
low musical words sink deep into the heart, and 
dwell there like remembered melody — one fragile 
as the violet in the deep wood, and yet born 
“ to hope, and endure all things,” for conscience’ 
sake. She seemed to have participated in the 
spirit of unrest which had pervaded the household 
that morning, for she had been up several hours, 
and a cluster of blush roses fastened into the front 
of her dress told that she had been walking in 
the garden, enjoying the invigorating influences of 
the early morning. Perhaps she was not unaware 
of her father’s entertaining an unusual guest that 
morning; for she rose immediately, and followed 
old Dudley to the room where they were waiting. 
As she entered, the young Duke of Devonshire 
rose hurriedly to greet her, while a soft blush man¬ 
tled her face and neck. The carl, her father, fixed 
his keen eyes upon her face, as if he would have 
read her inmost soul; but, save the blush of maid¬ 
enly modesty, there was no sign of agitation. 
She seated herself, calmly and collectedly, beside 
