ingularly radiant grey, with long curling
gold-tinted lashes. Her complexion was of that peculiar creamy
colourlessness, which is found in the smooth petals of a magnolia,
and the lips were outlined in bright carmine that hinted at chemical
combinations, so ripe and luscious was the tint.

Had she really stepped down from some glorious old Venetian picture,
bringing that crown of hair, of the true "_biondina_" hue, so rare
nowaday, and never seen in perfection save among the marbles and
lagunes of crumbling Venice? Was it natural, that mass of very pale
gold, so pale that it seemed a flossy heap of raw silk, or had she by
some subtle stroke of skill discovered the secret of that beautiful
artificial colouring, which was so successfully practised in the days
of Giorgione?

Her dress was velvet, of that light lilac tint which only perfect
complexions dare approach, was cut very low and square in front and
trimmed with a profusion of gossamer white lace. Diamonds flashed on
her neck and arms, and in the centre of the puffed and crimped hair a
large butterfly of diamonds scattered light upon the yellow mass.

Mr. Palma was smiling at some low spoken sentence that rippled like
Italian poetry over her full lips, when his eye detected the figure
hovering near the door, and at once he advanced, and drew her in.

Without taking her hand, his fingers just touched her sleeve, as
walking beside her he said:

"Mrs. Carew must allow me the pleasure of presenting my ward Miss
Orme, who has most unpardonably detained us from our soup."

The stranger smiled and offered her hand.

"Ah, Miss Orme! I shall never pardon you for stealing the only heart
whose loyalty I claim. My little Llora saw you at Mrs. Brompton's,
heard you sing, and was enchanted with your eyes, which she assured
me were 'blue as the sky, _ma mere_, and like violets with black lace
quilled around them.'"

Regina barely touched the ivory hand encrusted with costly jewels,
and Mr. Palma drew her near a sofa, where sat a noble-looking elderly
gentleman, slightly bald, and whose ample beard and long moustache
were snow-white, although his eyebrows were black, and his fine brown
eyes sparkled with the fire and enthusiasm of youth.

"My ward, Miss Orme, has a juvenile reverence for Congressmen, whom
knowing only historically, she fondly considers above and beyond the
common clay of mankind, regards them as the worthy successors of the
Roman _Patres Conscripti_, and