ad not all her
ancient wardrobe been diplomatically presented by Mrs. Nunn to the
servants of their London lodging, she knew that it was due to her aunt
that she present herself at breakfast attired as a young lady of the
first fashion. She therefore accommodated herself to a white Indian
muslin ruffled to the waist and sweeping the ground all round. The
bodice was long and tight, exposing the neck, which Anne covered with
a white silk scarf. She put on her second best bonnet, trimmed with
lilac flowers instead of feathers, the scoop filled with blonde and
mull, and tied under the chin with lilac ribbons. Her waist, encircled
by a lilac sash of soft India silk looked no more than eighteen inches
round, and she surveyed herself with some complacency, feeling even
reconciled to the curls, as they modified the severity of her brow and
profile, bringing both into closer harmony with her full mouth and
throat.

"But what's the use?" she thought, with a whimsical sigh. "I mean
never to marry, so men cannot interest me, and it would be the very
irony of fate to make a favourable impression on a poet we wot of. So,
it all comes to this: I look my best to gratify the vanity of my aunt.
Well, let it pass."

She drew on her gloves and ran down-stairs, meeting no one. As she
left the hotel and stood for a few moments on the upper terrace she
forgot the discomforts of fashion The packet had arrived late in the
afternoon, there had been too much bustle to admit of observing the
island in detail, even had the hour been favourable, but this morning
it burst upon her in all its beauty.

The mountain, bordered with a strip of silver sands and trimmed with
lofty palms, rose in melting curves to the height of three thousand
feet and more, and although the most majestic of the Caribbees, there
was nothing on any part of it to inspire either terror or misgiving.
The exceeding grace of the long sweeping curves was enhanced by
silvery groves of lime trees and fields of yellow cane. Green as
spring earlier in the winter, at this season of harvest Nevis looked
like a gold mine turned wrong side out. The "Great Houses," set in
groves of palm and cocoanut, and approached by avenues of tropical
trees mixed with red and white cedars, the spires of churches
rising from romantic nooks, their heavy tombs lost in a tangle of
low feathery palms, gave the human note without which the most
resplendent verdure must pall in time; and yet seemed indestruc