And they were all there--all her old friends and many of Jane's new ones, who for years had looked on Lucy as one too far above them in station to be spoken of except with bated breath.
The intimates of the house came early.

Doctor John first, with his grave manner and low voice--so perfectly dressed and quiet: Lucy thought she had never seen his equal in bearing and demeanor, nor one so distinguished-looking--not in any circle in Europe; and Uncle Ephraim, grown fat and gouty, leaning on a cane, but still hearty and wholesome, and overjoyed to see her; and Pastor Dellenbaugh--his hair was snow-white now--and his complacent and unruffled wife; and the others, including Captain Holt, who came in late.

It was almost a repetition of that other home-coming years before, when they had gathered to greet her, then a happy, joyous girl just out of school.
Lucy in their honor wore the dress that had so astonished Martha, and a diamond-studded ornament which she took from her jewel-case and fastened in her hair.

The dress followed the wonderful curves of her beautiful body in all its dimpled plumpness and the jewel set off to perfection the fresh, oval face, laughing blue eyes--wet forget-me-nots were the nearest their color--piquant, upturned nose and saucy mouth.
The color of the gown, too, harmonized both with the delicate pink of her cheeks and with the tones of her rather too full throat showing above the string of pearls that clasped it.
Jane wore a simple gray silk gown which followed closely the slender and almost attenuated lines of her figure.

This gown the doctor always loved because, as he told her, it expressed so perfectly the simplicity of her mind and life.