She was a graduate of one of the principal seminaries, and spoke French with a perfect Benicia accent.

Peerlessly beautiful, she was dressed in a white moire antique robe trimmed with tulle.

That simple rosebud with which most heroines exclusively decorate their hair, was all she wore in her raven locks.
The Judge was the first to break the silence.
"Genevra, the logs which compose yonder fire seem to have been incautiously chosen.

The sibilation produced by the sap, which exudes copiously therefrom, is not conducive to composition." "True, father, but I thought it would be preferable to the constant crepitation which is apt to attend the combustion of more seasoned ligneous fragments." The Judge looked admiringly at the intellectual features of the graceful girl, and half forgot the slight annoyances of the green wood in the musical accents of his daughter.

He was smoothing her hair tenderly, when the shadow of a tall figure, which suddenly darkened the doorway, caused him to look up..