s,
with hills beyond. She entered, bearing a vase of freshly gathered
flowers, her own tribute just levied from the garden. Of these, and of
their significance, was her first speech. From these she passed to the
engravings which adorned her walls, and to much talk of art and artists.
From this theme an easy transition led the conversation to Greece and
its mythology. A little later, Margaret began to speak of the friends
whose care had surrounded her with these objects of her delighting
contemplation. The intended marriage of two of the best beloved among
these friends was much in her mind at the moment, and Mr. Channing
compares the gradation of thought by which she arrived at the
announcement of this piece of intelligence to the progress and
_denouement_ of a drama, so eloquent and artistic did it appear to him.

A ramble in Bussey's woods followed this indoor interview. In his
account of it Mr. Channing has given us not only a record of much that
Margaret said, but also a picture of how she looked on that
ever-remembered day.

"Reaching a moss-cushioned ledge near the summit, she seated herself....
As, leaning on one arm, she poured out her stream of thought, turning
now and then her eyes full upon me, to see whether I caught her meaning,
there was leisure to study her thoroughly. Her temperament was
predominantly what the physiologists would call nervous-sanguine; and
the gray eye, rich brown hair, and light complexion, with the muscular
and well-developed frame, bespoke delicacy balanced by vigor. Here was a
sensitive yet powerful being, fit at once for rapture or sustained
effort. She certainly had not beauty; yet the high-arched dome of the
head, the changeful expressiveness of every feature, and her whole air
of mingled dignity and impulse gave her a commanding charm."

Mr. Channing mentions, as others do, Margaret's habit of shutting her
eyes, and opening them suddenly, with a singular dilatation of the iris.
He dwells still more upon the pliancy of her neck, the expression of
which varied with her mood of mind. In moments of tender or pensive
feeling its curves were like those of a swan; under the influence of
indignation its movements were more like the swoopings of a bird of
prey.

"Finally, in the animation yet _abandon_ of Margaret's attitude and look
were rarely blended the fiery force of Northern, and the soft languor of
Southern races."

Until this day Mr. Channing had known Margaret through her i