n-colored silks, who were seated in
rocking-chairs, all the rocking-chairs in the house having been
carried to the parlor for the occasion. They were knitting, and every
one had a square velvet workbag. Most of them wore lace caps, trimmed
with white satin ribbon. They were larger, more rotund, and older than
mother, whose appearance struck me by contrast. Perhaps it was the
first time I observed her dress; her face I must have studied before,
for I knew all her moods by it. Her long, lusterless, brown hair was
twisted around a high-topped tortoise-shell comb; it was so heavy and
so carelessly twisted that the comb started backward, threatening
to fall out. She had minute rings of filigreed gold in her ears.
Her dress was a gray pongee, simply made and short; I could see her
round-toed morocco shoes, tied with black ribbon. She usually took
out her shoestrings, not liking the trouble of tying them. A ruffle of
fine lace fell around her throat, and the sleeves of her short-waisted
dress were puffed at the shoulders. Her small white hands were folded
in her lap, for she was idle; on the little finger of her left hand
twinkled a brilliant garnet ring, set with diamonds. Her face was
colorless, the forehead extremely low, the nose and mouth finely cut,
the eyes of heavenly blue. Although youth had gone, she was beautiful,
with an indescribable air of individuality. She influenced all who
were near her; her atmosphere enveloped them. She was not aware of it,
being too indifferent to the world to observe what effect she had
in it, and only realized that she was to herself a self-tormentor.
Whether she attracted or repelled, the power was the same. I make no
attempt to analyze her character. I describe her as she appeared,
and as my memory now holds her. I never understood her, and for that
reason she attracted my attention. I felt puzzled now, she seemed
so different from anybody else. My observation was next drawn to
Veronica, who, entirely at home, walked up and down the room in a
blue cambric dress. She was twisting in her fingers a fine gold
chain, which hung from her neck. I caught her cunning glance as she
flourished some tansy leaves before her face, imitating Mrs. Dexter to
the life. I laughed, and she came to me.

"See," she said softly, "I have something from heaven." She lifted her
white apron, and I saw under it, pinned to her dress, a splendid black
butterfly, spotted with red and gold.

"It is mine," she said,