Yes, there he stood, and was handsome enough to be looked at. His face
was frank and energetic; he had black shining hair, and a smile about his
mouth, which said, “I have a brownie that sits in my ear, and knows every
one of you, inside and out.” Old Elsie had pulled off her wooden shoes, and
stood there in her stockings, to do honor to the noble guests. The hens
clucked, and the cocks crowed, and the ducks waddled to and fro, and said,
“Quack, quack!” But the fair, pale girl, the friend of his childhood, the
daughter of the General, stood there with a rosy blush on her usually pale
cheeks, and her eyes opened wide, and her mouth seemed to speak without
uttering a word, and the greeting he received from her was the most
beautiful greeting a young man can desire from a young lady, if they are not
related, or have not danced many times together, and she and the architect
had never danced together.
The Count shook hands with him, and introduced him.
“He is not altogether a stranger, our young friend George.”
The General’s lady bowed to him, and the General’s daughter was very
nearly giving him her hand; but she did not give it to him.
“Our little Master George!” said the General. “Old friends! Charming!”
“You have become quite an Italian,” said the General’s lady, “and I
presume you speak the language like a native?”
“My wife sings the language, but she does not speak it,” observed the
General.
At dinner, George sat at the right hand of Emily, whom the General had
taken down, while the Count led in the General’s lady.
Mr. George talked and told of his travels; and he could talk well, and was
the life and soul of the table, though the old Count could have been it too.
Emily sat silent, but she listened, and her eyes gleamed, but she said
nothing.
In the verandah, among the flowers, she and George stood together; the
rose-bushes concealed them. And George was speaking again, for he took
