But still let us think for a moment of Tina as, at length attired, she turns to leave her room, with one sidelong glance just thrown backwards at the looking-glass, as brightly and quickly as if it had come from a bird. Above her hair, which was very short, and tied behind in a knot which rippled out in curls, she had placed a little black hat with its outline softened by a black ostrich feather that curled all round the crown. Her dress was also black, an old figured silk, for she thought it best to seem in some sort of mourning; and a silver bangle was clasped upon her wrist above the long, black, embroidered glove she wore. One more thing we must notice, the daintiest black umbrella, which had at the top of its handle a pretty silver knob. Thus attired, Tina’s dress could not be accused of brightness, or of any attempt at unwarrantable display--yet it must be owned that there was still in her appearance that look of an adventuress which seemed to belong to her. If she was conscious of this fact, I do not know that she regretted it, for she liked people to turn and look at her in the street, and if you have nothing more than an ordinary appearance, it is at least possible that you may not be seen. So, thus attired, and moving daintily, with a face more thoughtful than usual, and her great dark eyes shining beneath the shadow of her hat, little Tina was able to leave her room at last. She went slowly down the stairs, meditating as she went, for there were consequences of serious importance depending on the interview she was about to dare to-day. At the foot of the stairs her brother stood waiting for her--a young man whose appearance was not as much like that of a foreigner as her own; well-dressed, supple-figured, with delicate hands and features, and languid eyelids that were scarcely raised as she joined him. They did not exchange a single word or glance, but, moving together, went out into the yard.