"I was afraid you hadn't come up yet, and I wanted to show myself to you.

Look at my hair!" She pulls out the skirts of her dainty loose gown and dances merrily up to him.

"Don't I look lovely ?" cries she, laughing.
Rylton has turned; he is looking at her; his eyes seem to devour her--more with anger than delight, however.

And yet the beauty of her, in spite of him, enters into his heart.

How sweet she is, standing there with her loose gown in her pretty uplifted hands, and the lace flounces of her petticoat showing in front! She had not fastened this new delight in robes across her neck, and now the whiteness of her throat and neck vies with the purity of the gown itself.
"He looked on her and found her fair, For all he had been told." Yet a very rage of anger against her still grows within his heart.
"What brought you here ?" asks he sharply, brutally.
She drops her pretty gown.