Chicago (Ill.) -- History -- To 1875 -- Fiction; Fires -- Fiction; Great Fire, Chicago, Ill., 1871 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
She had inherited a good constitution, which, under her father's
direction, had been strengthened and confirmed by due regard to hygienic
rules. Therefore she had reached the stage of early womanhood abounding
in vitality and capable of great endurance. Active, graceful motion
was as natural to her as it is for a swallow to be on the wing. The
moment she dropped her book, palette, or pencil, she was on her feet,
her healthful nature seeming like a mountain brook, that, checked for
a time in its flow, soon overleaps its bounds and speeds on more swiftly
than ever. But the strange part of this superabundant activity was,
that she never seemed to do anything in an abrupt way, as from mere
impulse. Every act glided into another smoothly and gracefully. Her
lithe, willowy figure, neither slight nor stout, was peculiarly adapted
to her style of movement. She delighted in the game of billiards, for
the quick movements and varied attitudes permitted, and the precision
required, were all suited to her taste; and she had gained such
marvellous skill that even her father, with his practiced hand, was
scarcely her match.
As she tripped lightly up the long winding stairs to the show-room
over the front door where their labors were to begin, she appeared to
Dennis the very embodiment of grace and beauty. And yet she seemed so
cold and self-centred, so devoid of warm human interest in the great
world of love, joy, and suffering, that she repelled while she
fascinated.
"If the blood should come into the cheeks of one of her father's
statues, and the white marble eyes turn to violet blue, and the snowy
hair to wavy gold, and it should spring from its pedestal into just
such life, it would be more like her than any woman I ever saw," thought
Dennis, as he stood for a moment or two waiting to do her bidding.
Her plans had been thoroughly matured, and she acted with decision.
Pointing to the side opposite the door--the side which would naturally
strike the eye of the visitor first--she said, "I wish all the pictures
taken down from that wall and placed around the room so that I can see
them."
She began as an absolute dictator, intending to give no hint of her
plans and purposes except as conveyed by clear, terse orders. But these
had so intelligent and appreciative an interpreter in Dennis, that
gradually her attention was drawn to him as well as to his work.
He had his step-ladder ready, and with a celerity decidedly pleasing,
soon placed the pictures safely on the floor, so that she could still
see them and judge of their character. Though his dexterous manner and
careful handling of the pictures were gratifying, it must be confessed
that his supple form, the graceful and varied attitudes he unconsciously
assumed in his work, pleased her more, and she secretly began to study
him as an artistic subject, as he had studied her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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