There was an air of mingled surprise and defiance about her; she was a silent girl.

'Fronted like Juno,' he appears to cry, 'shaped like Hebe, and like Demeter in stature; sullen with most, but with one most sweetly apt, she looked watchful but was really timid, looked cold but was secretly afire.

I knew soon enough how her case stood, how hope and doubt strove in her and choked her to silence.

I guessed how within those reticent members swift love ran like wine; but because of this proud, brave mask of hers I was slow to understand her worth.

God help me, I thought her a thing of snow!' He records her dress at this time, remarkable if becoming.