"Stand off, and let me look at you!" said he, brusquely for him, drawing back for a better view.
She was well worth it. Native quickness, aided by the marvellous intuition as to effect, and the daring that attempts new combinations of color and untried styles of coiffure and dress, which people name "French taste," had wrought together in her attire. She had a "genius for apparel," Mrs. Baxter pronounced delightedly, adding "So much for blood! The Parisian eye and Parisian aptitude are, like the poetic afflatus, nascitur, non fit. You are a true Lanneau." There would be no better-dressed woman in the assembly to-night than the country girl, whose toilette had yet cost less than that of any other who laid claim to the honors of belleship.
Her maize-colored tissue had a full double skirt; the upper looped with rosettes of black lace and narrow black velvet. A bunch of fuschias—scarlet with purple hearts, drooped above her left temple. Not a jewel was visible except her engagement-ring—a fine solitaire diamond. Instead of a brooch she wore another spray of fuschias, mixed with feathery green, at her throat, and her only laces were those edging her neck and sleeves. But she was dazzling enough to turn stronger heads than those of the sheepish sophomores, pert juniors, and priggish seniors, who would compose her train, thought Wyllys, surveying her with the deliberate freedom of a brotherly friend. Her eyes sparkled into splendor, her bloom deepened, and the white-gloved fingers toyed nervously with her bouquet as his inspection was prolonged. As the finale, he offered his arm with a sweeping obeisance, and they strolled through the rooms, untenanted as yet save by themselves.
"I hardly expected to see that, to-night," said Orrin, touching her bouquet. "The utmost I hoped was, that it might please your eye for a moment, as it passed in review among a host of others."
"There is a degree of modesty which is laughable," she returned. "Pray, whose flowers did you suppose I would prefer to yours?"
"Perhaps I feared the rivalry of the chaste assortment of sweet alysseum and white rose-buds I saw left at Professor Fairchild's door this morning."
"Eminently suitable to my 'style'!" interrupted she, ironically. "The fear reflects credit upon your discrimination—and my taste."
"Or—" he went on—"the astounding array of camelias, azaleas, and orange-blossoms that arrived last night, duly enveloped in wet cotton, sent per express from the green-house of a city florist to the millionnaire's son—Senior Lowndes. Rumor affirms that he has neither studied nor eaten since he was first pierced by Cupid's arrows—your eyelids doing service as bows, and the sight of the magnificent offering which is to propitiate the blind god, has driven him clean daft with rapturous anticipation. Seriously and frankly, my advice is that you discard my simple gift in favor of the exotics. I am content—or I should be—with the grace already shown me by your intention to give my flowers the place of honor. But Mr. Lowndes may be offended if you do not exhibit his Brobdingnagian bouquet. It is already the talk of the place, and everybody expects to see it in your hands to-night."
"It will not be everybody's maiden disappointment," said Jessie, obstinately. "The floral behemoth has a big vase and a table all to himself in the music-room, so Mr. Lowndes can play show-man to his satisfaction. I reserve the right of wearing what I please, and my bouquet is part of my toilette. Could anything harmonize better with my dress than these scarlet verbenas, divided from the purple violets by the circlet of white blossoms, and capped by one snowy cape-jessamine—like a queen in her ermine?"
"That is the only member of your family to be had in this frozen region," rejoined Orrin. "I telegraphed to Baltimore in the vain hope of obtaining the golden bells you love."