If there is one thing on earth, more lovely than another, it is a
fair girl of the tender age of Winifred Wood! Her beauty awakens no
feeling beyond that of admiration. The charm of innocence breathes
around her, as fragrance is diffused by the flower, sanctifying her
lightest thought and action, and shielding her, like a spell, from
the approach of evil. Beautiful is the girl of twelve,--who is
neither child nor woman, but something between both, something more
exquisite than either!
Such was the fairy creature presented to Thames Darrell, under the
following circumstances.
Glad to escape from the scene of recrimination that ensued between
his adopted parents, Thames seized the earliest opportunity of
retiring, and took his way to a small chamber in the upper part of
the house, where he and Jack were accustomed to spend most of their
leisure in the amusements, or pursuits, proper to their years. He
found the door ajar, and, to his surprise, perceived little Winifred
seated at a table, busily engaged in tracing some design upon a sheet
of paper. She did not hear his approach, but continued her occupation
without raising her head.
It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as
she pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the
most favourable that might have been chosen for the display of her
sylphlike figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow
of her countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting
sun falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window,
that seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful. Winifred's features
would have been pretty, for they were regular and delicately formed,
if they had not been slightly marked by the small-pox;--a disorder,
that sometimes spares more than it destroys, and imparts an
expression to be sought for in vain in the smoothest complexion. We
have seen pitted cheeks, which we would not exchange for dimples
and a satin skin. Winifred's face had a thoroughly amiable look. Her
mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips
glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing
constantly about them. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by
dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. Her hair was of the
darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to
her heels. She was dressed in a little white frock, with a very long
body, and very short sleeves, which looked (from a certain fullness
about the hips,) as if it was intended to be worn with a hoop. Her
slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket
attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace
cap.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account