One was already off and in his hand, when a
slight noise made him look up. He started violently, and then, leaning
back in his chair, gazed in silent amazement at the vision before
him.
On the stone stairway, and slowly descending, with steps that were
meant to be stately (and which might have been so, had not the stairs
been so steep, and the little legs so short) was the figure of a
child: a little girl about ten years old, with a face of almost
startling beauty. Her hair floated like a cloud of pale gold about
her shoulders; her eyes were blue, not light and keen, like the old
man's, but of that soft, deep, shadowy blue that poets love to call
violet. Wonderful eyes, shaded by long, curved lashes of deepest
black, which fell on the soft, rose-and-ivory tinted cheek, as the
child carefully picked her way down, holding up her long dress from
her little feet. It was the dress which so astonished Captain January.
Instead of the pink calico frock and blue checked pinafore, to which
his eyes were accustomed, the little figure was clad in a robe of
dark green velvet with a long train, which spread out on the staircase
behind her, very much like the train of a peacock. The body, made
for a grown woman, hung back loosely from her shoulders, but she had
tied a scarf of gold tissue under her arms and round her waist, while
from the long hanging sleeves her arms shone round and white as
sculptured ivory.
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