She at length fixed upon a delicate maize-colored silk, trimmed with puffings of soft illusion, and ruffles of fine thread lace.
When the hour came for dressing, she arrayed herself with a throbbing heart.
She had nearly completed her toilet, when Viola came sweeping in, lovely in blue silk and white tulle.
In her hands she carried a most exquisite bouquet of flowers.
She stood breathless on the threshold as she caught sight of Brownie.
“Miss Douglas,” she at length exclaimed, “how perfectly lovely you are!”
“Thank you, Viola; but you are altogether too enthusiastic in your compliments,” Brownie returned, with a smile.
Yet as she glanced into the mirror, she grew suddenly conscious, and blushed with a sense of her own beauty.
Her hair was drawn away from her broad, low forehead, and knotted gracefully at the back of her small head.
Her beautiful neck gleamed through the misty fichu, and her rounded arms were only half concealed by the fall of delicate lace from her sleeves.