It was the same face you have just seen in the portrait--that of Dr.and Mrs.Ashton's only daughter.

The wondrously sunny expression of countenance, blended with strange sweetness, was even more conspicuous than in the portrait.
But what perhaps struck a beholder most, when looking at Miss Ashton for the first time, was a nameless grace and refinement that distinguished her whole appearance.

She was of middle height, not more; slender; her head well set upon her shoulders.

This was her own room; the schoolroom of her girlhood, the sitting-room she had been allowed to call her own since then.

Books, work, music, a drawing-easel, and various other items, presenting a rather untidy collection, met the eye.