Domestic fiction; Short stories; Suburban life -- Fiction
Etruscan, and also gold, rose and fell at her throat, and on one
little ungloved hand glittered a multitude of rings. This hand was very
expressive, and took a principal part in the talk which the lady held
with her companion, and was as alert and quick as if trained in the
gesticulation of Southern or Latin life somewhere. Her features, on the
contrary, were rather insipid, being too small and fine; but they were
redeemed by the liquid splendor of her beautiful eyes, and the mortal
pallor of her complexion. She was altogether so startling an apparition,
that all of us jaded, commonplace spectres turned and fastened our
weary, lack-lustre eyes upon her looks, with an utter inability to
remove them. There was one fat, unctuous person seated opposite, to whom
his interest was a torture, for he would have gone to sleep except for
her remarkable presence: as it was, his heavy eyelids fell half-way
shut, and drooped there at an agonizing angle, while his eyes remained
immovably fixed upon that strange, death-white face. How it could have
come of that colorlessness,--whether through long sickness or long
residence in a tropical climate,--was a question that perplexed another
of the passengers, who would have expected to hear the lady speak any
language in the world rather than English; and to whom her companion or
attendant was hardly less than herself a mystery,--being a dragon-like,
elderish female, clearly a Yankee by birth, but apparently of many
years' absence from home. The propriety of extracting these people from
the horse-cars and transferring them bodily to the first chapter of a
romance was a thing about which there could be no manner of doubt, and
nothing prevented the abduction but the unexpected voluntary exit of the
pale lady. As she passed out everybody else awoke as from a dream, or as
if freed from a potent fascination. It is part of the mystery that
this lady should never have reappeared in that theatre of life, the
horse-car; but I cannot regret having never seen her more; she was so
inestimably precious to wonder that it would have been a kind of loss to
learn anything about her.
[Illustration: “The young lady in black, who alighted at a most ordinary
little street.”]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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