h
herself.

Master Frank, for he it was, was dressed in the very extravagance of
the fashion,--not so much from vanity, as from that delicate instinct
of self-respect which would keep some men spruce and spotless from one
year's end to another upon a desert island; "for," as Frank used to say
in his sententious way, "Mr. Frank Leigh at least beholds me, though
none else be by; and why should I be more discourteous to him than
I permit others to be? Be sure that he who is a Grobian in his own
company, will, sooner or later, become a Grobian in that of his
friends."

So Mr. Frank was arrayed spotlessly; but after the latest fashion of
Milan, not in trunk hose and slashed sleeves, nor in "French standing
collar, treble quadruple daedalian ruff, or stiff-necked rabato, that
had more arches for pride, propped up with wire and timber, than five
London Bridges;" but in a close-fitting and perfectly plain suit of
dove-color, which set off cunningly the delicate proportions of his
figure, and the delicate hue of his complexion, which was shaded from
the sun by a broad dove-colored Spanish hat, with feather to match,
looped up over the right ear with a pearl brooch, and therein a crowned
E, supposed by the damsels of Bideford to stand for Elizabeth, which
was whispered to be the gift of some most illustrious hand. This same
looping up was not without good reason and purpose prepense; thereby all
the world had full view of a beautiful little ear, which looked as if
it had been cut of cameo, and made, as my Lady Rich once told him, "to
hearken only to the music of the spheres, or to the chants of cherubim."
Behind the said ear was stuck a fresh rose; and the golden hair was all
drawn smoothly back and round to the left temple, whence, tied with a
pink ribbon in a great true lover's knot, a mighty love-lock, "curled as
it had been laid in press," rolled down low upon his bosom. Oh, Frank!
Frank! have you come out on purpose to break the hearts of all Bideford
burghers' daughters? And if so, did you expect to further that triumph
by dyeing that pretty little pointed beard (with shame I report it) of
a bright vermilion? But we know you better, Frank, and so does your
mother; and you are but a masquerading angel after all, in spite of
your knots and your perfumes, and the gold chain round your neck which a
German princess gave you; and the emerald ring on your right fore-finger
which Hatton gave you; and the pair of perfumed gloves i