It was like a blush rose. A delicate, exquisite flush had crept over it, her eyes were soft and dewy, her lips unsteady.
“Peter dear, come to bed; now, Poppet,” she said; and even in her voice there was a new note.
[89]
]Nellie laid down her book and looked at her sister in surprise. She had only just discovered she was beautiful. Hitherto it had seemed to be tacitly allowed that she herself had monopolised the good looks of the family; so to discover this sudden beauty in Meg rather amazed her.
She looked to see if it had anything to do with her dress; no, she had worn it scores of times before. It was a muslin, pale blue, rather old-fashioned in make, for the body fitted plainly with the exception of a slight gathering at the neck. The skirt was very long, and ended in a crossway frill at the hem,—how graceful it made her look! In her waistband she had stuck some cornflowers vividly blue.
And her hair! Nellie devoted a surprisingly long time daily to the erection of an elaborate coiffeur on her own beautiful head; but surely Meg’s had a grace of its own, from its very simplicity. It was drawn back loosely that it might wave and curl as it pleased, and then was twisted into a shining knot halfway down her head.
And that exquisite pink in her cheeks!
“Oh, Meg!” Nellie said, half guessing, half shy.
“Dear Peter—oh, Poppet, do come!” Meg entreated. The pink had deepened, her eyes had [90] ]grown distressful. Both children rose and followed her without a word; they had the native delicacy that every unspoiled child possesses.
But Nellie had lost interest in her book,—what was a fictitious tale of love, when she might hear of one in real life within these very walls?
She went downstairs and into the drawing-room. “Who’s in the study, Esther? I can hear voices,” she said sharply.