bed by that
wonderful _vision in leather_!

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE VISION IN LEATHER.

It is all very well for men of the world, men of fashion, men who pride
themselves on being highly civilised and peculiarly refined, to fancy
that there are no other visions in this world than "visions in silk,"
"visions in white," and the like. Those who think thus labour under an
egregious, though a civilised, mistake.

Happily there are kind, loving, pretty faces in this world, the
possessors of which know nothing about pink gauze or white muslin--faces
that have never felt the hot air of a drawing-room, but are much used to
present themselves, unveiled, to the fresh breezes of the prairie and
the mountain; faces that possess the rare quality of universal
attraction, and that cause men to fancy, when they see them for the
first time, that they have beheld a vision!

The fact is that some faces are visions, whether the forms that support
them appear to us in muslin or in deerskin. The only requisite needful
to constitute a face a vision to any particular person, is that it
should have in it that peculiar _something_ which everybody wants, but
which nobody can define; which is ineffably charming, though utterly
incomprehensible; and which, when once seen by any one, constitutes the
countenance that possesses it a vision evermore!

It is quite immaterial what material composes the dress in which the
vision appears. No doubt, the first time it bursts upon the smitten
victim, dress may be a powerful auxiliary; but, after the first time,
dress goes for little or nothing. March Marston's vision appeared, as
we have said in leather.

After the Wild Man had vanished, March continued to gaze at his new
companion with all kinds of feelings and emotions, but without being
able to move or speak. The vision returned the compliment, also without
speaking or taking any further notice of him.

She was a wonderful creature, that vision in leather! That she was of
Indian extraction was evident from the hue of her skin, yet she was not
nearly so dark as the lightest complexioned Indian. In fact her clear
soft forehead was whiter than those of many so-called pale-faces; but
her ruddy cheeks, her light-brown hair, and, above all, her bright brown
eye showed that white blood ran in her veins. She was what men term a
half-caste. She was young, almost girlish in her figure and deportment;
but the earnest gravity of her pretty face c