She was singularly beautiful, and yet it was not so much the regularity of her features, nor the clearness of her complexion which made her so. It was the light which shone in her lustrous blue eyes, which gave her the expression of an angel, for such she was—an angel in her southern home, which, without her would have been dark and cheerless. Her brother, whom she called Hal, was three years older, and not nearly so handsome. He was very dark, and it seemed to me that I had seen a face like his before; but ere I could remember where, a faint voice from the piazza, which faced the east and was now quite cool, called out, “Halbert, Halbert, come here.”
“That’s ma,” said Jessie, getting down from my arms. “That’s ma—come and see her,” and following her, I soon stood in the presence of Mrs. Lansing, who was reclining rather indolently in a large willow chair, while at her back was a negress half asleep, but appearing wide awake whenever her mistress moved.
She was a chubby, rosy-cheeked woman, apparently thirty-five years of age. Her eyes were very black, and she had a habit of frequently shutting them, so as to show off the long, fringed eyelashes. On the whole, I thought, she was quite prepossessing in her appearance, an opinion, however, which I changed ere long; for by the time I reached her, there was a dark cloud on her brow, evidently of displeasure or of disappointment. Still she was very polite, offering me her jewelled hand, and saying, “Miss Lee, I suppose. You are welcome to Georgia then;” after an instant, she added, “You don’t look at all like I thought you would.”
I was uglier than she expected, I presumed, and the tears started to my eyes as I replied, “I wrote to you that I was very plain, but after a little I shall look better; I am tired now with travelling.”
A strange, peculiar smile flitted over her face, while she intently regarded me as if to assure herself of my sanity. I was puzzled, and in my perplexity I said something about returning home, if my looks were so disagreeable. “They were used to me there, and didn’t mind it,” I said; at the same time leaning my head against the vine-wreathed pillars, I sobbed aloud. Lithe as a kitten, little Jessie sprang up behind me, and winding her arms around my neck, asked why I cried.
“Did ma make you cry?” she said. “Uncle Dick says she makes all the governesses cry.”
“Jessica, Jessica, get down this moment,” said the lady. “I did not intend to hurt Miss Lee’s feelings, and do not understand how I could have done so. She is either acting a part, or else she strangely misunderstands me.”
I never acted a part in my life, and, somewhat indignant, I wiped away my tears and asked “what she meant.”
There was the same smile on her face which I had noticed before, as she said, “Do you really think yourself ugly?”
Of course I did. I had never thought otherwise, for hadn’t I been told so ever since I was a child no larger than Jessie, and the impression thus early received had never been eradicated. Thus I answered her, and she believed me, for she replied, “You are mistaken, Miss Lee, for however plain you might have been in childhood, you are not so now. Neither do I understand how with those eyes, that hair and brow, you can think yourself ugly. I do not believe you meant to deceive me, but, to tell the truth, I am disappointed; but that cannot now be helped, and we’ll make the best of it.”