She was the most brilliant of a group of four lovely young girls who were seated on the fresh grass, in a grove of magnolia trees on the south banks of the James.
Before them flowed the fair river, fringed with wooded shores and dotted with green isles, all sparkling in the early sunlight of a June morning.
Behind them, from amidst its ornamented grounds, arose the white walls of Bellemont College for young ladies.
The first day of June was the annual commencement of the college. And these four young girls, all dressed in purest white robes with rose-colored wreaths and sashes, had sauntered out together and grouped themselves under the magnolia trees to wait for the ringing of the bell which should call them to the exhibition room.
Four more beautiful young creatures than these could scarcely be found in the world. They were called the Four Belles of Bellemont. They would have been belles anywhere and borne off palms of beauty from all other competitors. Yet beautiful as each one was, the four were not rival belles; because, in fact, each one was of a totally different style from all the others. They might be said to represent the four orders of female beauty—the blue, gray, hazel and black-eyed woman.
So far were they from being rivals, that they were fast friends, banded in an alliance for offense and defense against the whole school, if not the whole world!
Britomarte Conyers, the man-hater, the woman’s champion, the marriage renouncer, first in beauty, grace and intellect, was, as I said, a magnificent creature—not in regard to size, for she was not so tall as the blue-eyed belle, nor so full-fleshed as the hazel-eyed one; but magnificent in the sense of conscious strength, ardor and energy with which she impressed all. She felt and made you feel, that if her earnest soul had been clothed with the form of a man, she would have been one to govern the minds of men and guide the fortunes of nations; or, woman as she was, if law and custom had allowed her freer action and a fairer field, she would have influenced the progress of humanity and filled a place in history.
Britomarte’s present position and prospects were not very brilliant. She was the orphan ward of a maiden aunt, who had sent her to this school to be educated as a governess; and a hard struggle with the world was all that she had to look forward to; but certainly, if ever a woman was formed to fight the battle of life without fear and without reproach, it was this brave, spirited, energetic young amazon.
In this quartette of fair girls the second in merit was certainly Erminie Rosenthal, the daughter of a Lutheran preacher. Erminie was above the medium height, with a well-developed, beautifully rounded, buxom form; splendidly moulded features, blooming complexion, softly shining, hazel eyes, and a shower of bright, auburn ringlets shading the sweetest face in the whole group.
The third in this bevy of beauties was Elfrida Fielding, the daughter of a thriving farmer. Elfie was small, slight, and elegant in figure, and dark in complexion, with a rich crimson flush upon cheeks and lips, and with black eyes, eyelashes and eyebrows, and jet black hair, cut short, parted on the left side, and worn in crisp curls like a boy’s. Elfie was the wild sprite, the mischievous monkey, the fast little girl of the party. She was lively, witty, impulsive, excitable, fickle, and had an especial affinity for—anything and everything in its turn, and an especial mission to engage in—anything and everything that turned up.