her eyes were deeper than the depth

of waters still at even:

she had three lilies in her hand,

and the stars in her hair were seven.

—dante gabriel rossetti.

"no, no, my cabbage, i do not find that plain gown becoming, of a verity thou must remember that thou art an english countess and must henceforth adorn thy person with proper grandeur."

and worthy mme. legros, whilst vainly trying to express disapproval, gazed with obvious admiration at the dainty apparition before her.

"let be, maman, let be!" interposed papa legros soothingly, "the chit is well enough as she is. when she is over there in england, she may well look grand and stately; for the present she is still a tailor's daughter and i'll challenge the world to produce a daintier bale of goods. par ma foi! were i not thy father, my pigeon, i were tempted to envy that profligate young scoundrel, thy noble lord and husband. 'tis a mightily succulent morsel he will bite into the nonce."

rose marie striving to hide the confusion, which her kind father's broad allusion caused in her sensitive young heart, buried her face in the bouquet of snowdrops which she held in her hand.

no wonder that her adoring parents were proud of her.[144] she looked a picture on this cold winter's morning, standing there in her little room beneath the eaves, clad in pure white like the snow which lay thick on the narrow window sill and along the streets of paris.

she had fashioned her gown herself, of white grogram with a beautiful openwork lace pinner and delicate kerchief demurely folded across her young bosom. her fair hair was dressed in small curls all over her small head, her neck was bare, as were her arms and hands, and in colour as delicate as the snowdrops which she carried.

the spring was still in its infancy and snowdrops were very scarce; worthy m. legros had paid a vast sum of money in order that rose marie should carry a bouquet when first she met her lord.

all white she looked—almost like a little snow image, only that her cheeks glowed with the excitement in her blood, and her bosom rose and fell with unwonted rapidity beneath the filmy folds of her muslin kerchief.

my lord of stowmaries had arrived in paris the evening before, and had sent one of his serving-men round to say that he would come and pay his respects before midday.

oh! there seemed no laggardness about him now. the influence of monseigneur the archbishop and no doubt his own better nature had prevailed at last, and since a fortnight ago when his letter arrived announcing his coming, he seemed to have lost no time in useless preparations.

now he was here in paris and rose marie had put on her pretty gown in order to receive him. she did so mightily desire to please him, for she on her side was quite ready to give him that respectful love which husbands demand of their wives. mme. legros had fussed round the child all the morning, and though she grumbled at the simplicity[145] of the gown, she could not help but admire the exquisite picture of innocent girlhood which her daughter presented with such charming unconsciousness.

rose marie had been singularly silent all the while that she dressed. she was very anxious to be beautiful, and thought that this could not be accomplished without much care and trouble. this she bestowed ungrudgingly on every curl as she twisted and pinned it up, on every fold of her kerchief, on the tying of her shoe.

she had taken over two hours in completing her toilet, selecting with scrupulous care each article of dainty underlinen, which her own fingers had embroidered months ago, in anticipation of this great day: the white stockings, the silken garters, the beribboned shift and petticoat.

when she was ready, she called to maman to come and inspect, and oh! to criticise if there were any fault to find, which maman of a surety would detect. mme. legros determined not to let affection blind her, had turned the snow-white apparition round and round, seeking for defects, where none existed, readjusting a curl here, a ribbon there, and finally calling to good m. legros to come and give his verdict on the picture.

but good m. legros was far too adoring to do aught but admire. so now rose marie, if not quite free from doubt, was at any rate satisfied that everything which could be done to render her beautiful and desirable, had of a truth been done.

"we had best go down, maman," said legros at last, when he had finished feasting his eyes on the beauty of his daughter, "and make ready to receive milor. the child had best remain up here, and not enter the parlour until her lord is there, ready to greet her as she advances."

the worthy tailor was more agitated than he cared to[146] own. he felt fussy and could not manage to sit still. it still lacked nearly an hour to midday, and he was ready and over-ready to receive milor. he bustled maman out of the room, then ran back to have a final look at rose marie.

"keep calm, my treasure," he said agitatedly, "par dieu! there's no need for excitement. thou art not the first and only bride who has ever been claimed by an unknown husband. 'tis milor, no doubt, who feels flustered. he has been in the wrong and comes to make amends. not a very pleasant position for a proud english lord, eh, my pigeon? but thou art within thy rights, and wilt receive him with becoming dignity."

with gentle, insinuating gestures rose marie contrived to lead her father out of the room, and finally to close the door behind him.

time was hurrying on and she did so want to be alone and to think. this was the end of the old life, the beginning of the new: the new with all its hopes, its fears, its mysteries. she had put it very pertinently to her mother when she said that nothing, nothing would ever be quite the same again.

now that dear papa legros' heavy footsteps had died down the steep staircase, rose marie could sit by the open window and just think of it all, for the last time, before these mysteries of the new life were revealed to her.

i think that what struck her as most curious in the future was the idea that she would never be quite alone again. for she had—despite the loving care of adoring parents—been very much alone. we must remember that there is never complete harmony between the young and the old. the former live for the future, the latter for the present, oft times only for the past. papa and maman legros found their joy in seeing rose marie grow up and live, like some[147] beautiful flower, carefully tended, guarded against the tearing winds of life, nourished, fed and caressed. but rose marie thought she cherished her parents, dreamed of the time when she would be a woman with another home, with other affections, with other kindred. therefore she was lonely even in the midst of her happy home. there was a great deal that rose marie did not understand in life, but there was an infinity which maman would never comprehend.

would this newcomer, this stranger understand better than maman, she wondered. would he know what ailed her when in the very midst of joy she suddenly felt inclined to cry? would he then know just the right word to say, the right word to soothe her, and to fit in with her mood?

there were other thoughts that flew through rose marie's mind during this, the last lonely hour of her girlhood, but these she would not allow to linger in her mind, for they caused her cheeks to blush, and her heart to beat with sudden, nameless fear. she had seen the girls and boys of paris wandering arm in arm in the woods of fontainebleau, she had seen a fair head leaning against a dark head, and lips meeting lips in a furtive kiss, and now in her innocent heart she wondered what it felt like thus to be kissed.

hush!—sh!—sh!—no, no! maman was not there to see the quick blush which at the thought rose to the girlish cheek. maman would not understand. she would say gaily: "pardi my cabbage! but thy husband shall kiss thee of a truth and right lustily on thy fresh cheeks or thy budding mouth. a good, round, sounding kiss an he loves thee, which of course he will!" and the girls, too, in the woods at fontainebleau, they usually laughed after that[148] furtive kiss snatched behind some tree, when they thought that no one was looking.

but rose marie did not think that she would laugh when my lord kissed her. it seemed to her so strange that girls should make light of such wondrous moments in their lives. rose marie thought that when my lord kissed her she would probably cry, not in grief, oh, no! but with a strange exultant joy because of his love for her.

and that was what she hoped that he would understand.