of pleasant confusion, and in them Phyllis had made a distinct picture
on every mind.

"She's a dainty little woman," said the squire to himself, as he sat
calmly smoking his pipe after the bustle of the arrival was over; "not
much like a Hallam, but t' eye as isn't charmed wi' her 'ell hev no
white in it, that's a' about it."

Antony was much interested, and soon sought his sister.

"If that is Cousin Phyllis, she is beautiful. Don't you think so,
Elizabeth?"

"Yes; how perfectly she was dressed."

"That is a woman's criticism. Did you see her soft, dark eyes, her
small bow-shaped mouth--a beauty one rarely finds in English women--
her exquisite complexion, her little feet?"

"That is a man's criticism. How could you see all that in a moment
or two of such confusion?"

"Easily; how was she dressed?"

"In a plain dress of gray cloth. The fit was perfect, the linen collar
and cuffs spotless, the gray bonnet, with its drooping, gray feather
bewitching. She wore gray gloves and a traveling cloak of the same
color, which hung like a princess's mantle."

"How could you see all that in a moment or two of such confusion?"