Of unconfined and flowing hair;
A seeming child in everything,
Save thoughtful brow and ripening charms,
As nature wears the smile of spring,
When sinking into summer’s arms.
—Whittier.
The door was opened by a beautiful girl between fourteen and fifteen years old, not tall for her age, but full-formed and exquisitely proportioned. Her features were regular, with the “sweet, low brow,” and straight nose and arched lips of the Grecian profile; her eyes were of dark and melting hue, and her dark, rich auburn hair, parted over a forehead of snowy fairness, dropped in a mass of irregular ringlets down cheeks of carnation dye. The idea she inspired was that of a richness and fullness of life.
She stood within the door with a smile, awaiting the pleasure of the stranger, whose knock had summoned her. Captain Hugh had never seen Agnes Seabright before, so that he handed her the letter, saying:
“I think that this is for you?”
She took it, and was about in her haste to break the seal and possess herself of the contents, when her eyes alighted on these words, written on the corner: “To make my little girl acquainted with Mr. Hutton, my mate and good friend.” Then she raised her eyes from the letter in her hand to Hugh Hutton’s face. Then she offered her hand shyly but kindly, while she said, simply: