She opened a little case that the servant had given her as she entered. “These were left while we were out. I had ordered some changes to be made in them. See! they are the Borghese violets set in dew and petrified.”
The case contained a brooch, a pair of bracelets and sleeve-buttons, all of plain and highly polished silver, in each of which was set a large, deep-purple amethyst.
“Why did I never think of a silver setting?” Bianca exclaimed. “I always admired amethysts till they were set; then I found them spoilt. It was the ugly purple and yellow contrast. These are lovely, and just suit you, Signora mia. How I wish I could wear such things!”
“And why can you not?” Mr. Vane asked, with all the simplicity of a man who can admire results without understanding what produces them.
“Because they would make me look like a starless twilight,” the girl replied. “I should be obliged to paint my cheeks if I put on such colors. Poor me! I could wear only rubies, or opals, or diamonds, perhaps emeralds set in diamonds.”
Her father’s face assumed that sad and troubled expression a man’s face always wears when one he loves wishes for something out of his power to give. “Are you not rather young, my dear, to wear much jewelry?” he asked doubtfully.
“He thinks I am pining for trinkets,” she said smilingly. “Certainly,
papa, I am altogether too young, and am, moreover, disinclined to wear it. Don’t look so sad about it! My ribbons and flowers satisfy me quite. I shall beg some rosebuds of the Signora for this evening, and you shall see how much prettier they will be than rubies, besides having perfume, which rubies have not.”
Isabel had arranged the bracelets around her neck, and fastened the brooch in her lace ruffle.
“They do make one look three shades darker,” she said, and sighed deeply in taking them off. “I would like to go dressed in jewels from head to foot,” she added.