"

"Certainly not; I am as true as steel."

"She wanted, she said, to see if the eldest son of the Duke of Omnium
really did look like any other man."

"Then I don't want to see her," said Silverbridge, with a look of
vexation.

"There you are wrong, for there was real downright fun in the way
she said it. There they are, and I shall introduce you." Then Mrs.
Montacute Jones absolutely left her post for a minute or two, and
taking the young lord down the steps of the terrace did introduce him
to Mr. Boncassen, who was standing there amidst a crowd, and to Miss
Boncassen the daughter.

Mr. Boncassen was an American who had lately arrived in England with
the object of carrying out certain literary pursuits in which he was
engaged within the British Museum. He was an American who had nothing
to do with politics and nothing to do with trade. He was a man of
wealth and a man of letters. And he had a daughter who was said to
be the prettiest young woman either in Europe or in America at the
present time.

Isabel Boncassen was certainly a very pretty girl. I wish that
my reader would believe my simple assurance. But no such simple
assurance was ever believed, and I doubt even whether any description
will procure for me from the reader that amount of faith which I
desire to achieve. But I must make the attempt. General opinion
generally considered Miss Boncassen to be small, but she was in
truth something above the average height of English women. She was
slight, without that look of slimness which is common to girls, and
especially to American girls. That her figure was perfect the reader
must believe on my word, as any detailed description of her arms,
feet, bust, and waist, would be altogether ineffective. Her hair
was dark brown and plentiful; but it added but little to her charms,
which depended on other matters. Perhaps what struck the beholder
first was the excessive brilliancy of her complexion. No pink was
ever pinker, no alabaster whiteness was ever more like alabaster; but
under and around and through it all there was a constantly changing
hue which gave a vitality to her countenance which no fixed colours
can produce. Her eyes, too, were full of life and brilliancy, and
even when she was silent her mouth would speak. Nor was there a fault
within the oval of her face upon which the hypercritics of mature age
could set a finger. Her teeth were excellent both in form and colour,
but were seen but seldom. Who d