He turned quickly, his heart thrilling at the charm in the voice, low, yet resonant, and sweet with a lurking suggestion of sadness.
A girl, slender and delicately made, stood before him, a girl with an exquisite grace and a nameless charm––the something that lurks in the fragrance of the violet. Her eyes were not the quiet, solemn eyes of the little princess of his fairy tales, but the deep, fathomless eyes of a maiden.
A reminiscent smile stole over his face.
“The little princess!” he murmured, taking her hand.
The words brought a flush of color to her fair face.
“The prince is a politician now,” she replied.
“The prince has to be a politician to fight for his kingdom. Have you been here all the evening?” 199
“Yes; father and I sat with your party. But you were altogether too absorbed to glance our way.”
“Are you visiting in the city? Will you be here long?”
“For to-night only. I’ve been West with father, and we only stopped off to see what a senatorial fight was like; also, to hear you speak. To-morrow we return East, and then mother and I shall go abroad. Father,” calling to Mr. Winthrop, “I am renewing my acquaintance with Mr. Dunne.”