2/40 In the candle-light the skin had that creamy pallor of porcelain held between the eye and the sun. The hair alone would have been a glory even to a Helen. It could be likened to no color other than that russet gold which lines the chestnut bur. The eyes were of that changing amber of woodland pools in autumn; and a soul lurked in them, a brave, merry soul, more given to song and laughter than to tears. The child of Venus had taken up his abode in this woman's heart; for to see her was to love her, and to love her was to despair. |