From his six feet and an inch of vantage his eyes followed her sloping shoulders and tapering arms and rested on her laughing, happy face--rose-colored in the soft light of the candles--a film of lace looped at her elbows, her wonderful hair caught in a coil at the back: not the prevailing fashion but one most becoming to her.

What had not this admixture of Scotch and Virginia blood--this intermingling of robust independence with the gentle, yielding feminine qualities of the Southern-born woman--done for this girl?
Richard clapped his hands to attract attention, and advancing a step in front of the big easy-chair which Malachi had just pulled out for him, raised his fingers to command silence.
All eyes were instantly turned his way.

Alert and magnetic, dignified and charming, he stood in the full glow of the overhead chandelier, its light falling upon his snuff-brown coat with its brass buttons, pale-yellow waistcoat, and the fluff of white silk about his throat--his grave, thoughtful face turned toward Kate as his nearest guest, his glance sweeping the crowded room as if to be sure that everybody was at ease; Malachi close behind awaiting his master's orders to further adjust the chair and reading-lamp.
In the interim of the hush Kate had settled herself at Richard's feet on the low stool that Willits had brought, the young man standing behind her, the two making a picture that attracted general attention; some wondering at her choice, while others were outspoken in their admiration of the pair who seemed so wonderfully suited to each other.
"I have a rare story," Richard began "to read to you to-night, my good friends, one you will never forget; one, indeed, which I am sure the world at large will never forget.

I shall read it as best I can, begging your indulgence especially in rendering the dialect parts, which, if badly done, often mar both the pathos and humor of the text." Here he settled himself in his chair and picked up the small volume, Malachi, now that his service was over, tiptoeing out to his place in the hall so as to be ready for belated arrivals.
The room grew silent.

Even Mrs.Cheston, who rarely ceased talking when she had anything to say--and she generally did have something to say--folded her hands in her lap and settled herself in her arm-chair, her whole attention fastened on the reader.