“Yes, she is indeed the most beautiful woman in the whole world,” exclaimed Fairfax, to himself, as he turned from the fair and dignified Carolyn—the brilliant and sparkling Zuleime, to the dark and graceful Georgia. She is of medium height. Her complexion is a rich, dark, uniform olive, her very cheeks being of the same hue, but so transparently clear, that that which would mar the perfection of another face, adds deeper beauty to hers. Yes! the delicate bloom of the fair Carolyn, and the bright damask blush of the brilliant Zuleime, seem common-place beside the perfect beauty of the pure, clear olive cheek of the dark Georgia. Her hair is intensely black, with depths under depths of darkness, lurking in the labyrinths of irregular curls that cluster around, and throw so deep a shadow over her witching face. Her eyebrows are black and arched. Her eyelashes are long, black, and drooping. Her eyes are—pause—I have been trying to think of something to which her wondrous eyes may be compared, for darkness, profundity and power. Midnight? No, her eyes are darker, stiller, and more solemn yet. Thunder clouds? No, for her eyes are more stormy and impending still—and their electric stroke is silent as it is fatal. In short, her eyes resemble nothing but themselves. Her dress is of black gauze, over black silk, made high to veil her neck, and finished with a narrow black lace, within which gleams around her throat a necklace of jet and gold. She wears no other jewelry. A large black lace mantilla is carelessly thrown over all. When she moves her every movement is undulating grace—her motion might be set to music. And when she sits still she is _so_ still, and dark, and beautiful—_and something else, besides_, that the gazer experiences something like the fascination and terror one feels in looking down the depths of a dark chasm. She was the daughter of a portrait painter in Richmond, and this was what Captain Archer Clifton, in his arrogance, called humble parentage. Mr. Clifton had met her under the following circumstances: On finally withdrawing his eldest daughter from school, he wished, before carrying her home, to have her portrait taken, and went for that purpose to the studio of Mr. Fuller, portrait and miniature painter, where he chanced to see her for the first time, the artist’s beautiful child, Georgia. He took so strong a fancy to this bewitching creature, that he delayed his departure—prolonging his stay in the city for three weeks, at the end of which, besides the accomplished Miss Clifton, with her elegant wardrobe, splendid jewels, costly presents, and finished portrait—he took home the artist’s daughter as the fourth Mrs. Clifton, of Clifton much to the indignation of the haughty Carolyn, who never ceased to treat her beautiful young stepmother with scorn and contempt.