With the purpose of advertising this brave humour she dressed herself in
her best. I do not deny a love of fine clothes in Damaris. Yet in her own
home, and for delectation of the men belonging to her, a woman is surely
free to deck herself as handsomely as her purse allows. "Beauty
unadorned" ceased to be practicable, in self-respecting circles, with the
expulsion of our first parents from the paradisaic state; while beauty
merely dowdy, is a pouring of contempt on one of God's best gifts to the
human race. Therefore I find no fault with Damaris, upon this rather
fateful evening, in that she clothed herself in a maize-coloured silk
gown flowered in faint amber and faint pink. Cut in the piece from
shoulder to hem, according to a then prevailing fashion, it moulded
bosom, waist and haunches, spreading away into a demi-train behind. The
high Medici collar of old lace, at the back of the square décolletage,
conferred dignity; the hanging lace of the elbow sleeves a lightness. Her
hair, in two wide plaits, bound her head smoothly, save where soft
disobedient little curls, refusing restriction, shaded her forehead and
the nape of her neck.
After a few seconds of silent debate she clasped Carteret's pearls about
her throat again; and so fared away, a creature of radiant aspect, amid
sombre setting of low ceilings and dark carpeted floors, to await the
advent of the travellers.
These arrived some little while before their time, so that the girl, in
her gleaming dress, had gone but half-way down the staircase when they
came side by side into the hall.--Two very proper gentlemen, the moist
freshness of the night attending them, a certain nobility in their
bearing which moved her to enthusiasm, momentarily even bringing a mist
before her eyes. For they were safe and well both of them, so she
joyously registered, serene of countenance, moreover, as bearers of glad
tidings are. Whatever the ghostly ponies foretold could be no evil
shadowing them--for which she gave God thanks.
Meanwhile, there without, the light of the carriage lamps pierced the
enclosing gloom, played on the silver plating of harness, on the shining
coats of the horses, whose nostrils sent out jets of pale steam. Played
over the faces of the servants, too, Mary and Laura just within the open
door, Hordle and Conyers outside loading down the baggage from the back
of the mail-phaeton, and on Patch, exalted high above them on the
driving-seat.
As Damaris paused, irradiated by the joy of welcome and of forebodings
falsified, upon the lowest step of the staircase, Sir Charles turned
aside and tenderly kissed her.
"My darling," he said.
And Carteret, following him an instant later, took her by both hands and,
from arm's length, surveyed her in smiling admiration he made no effort
to repress.
"Dear witch, this is unexpected good fortune. I had little thought of
seeing you so soon--resplendent being that you are, veritably clothed
with sunshine."
"And with your pearls," she gaily said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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