Beverley stood before her frankly looking and admiring. The
underglow in her cheeks deepened and spread over her perfect
throat; her eyes met his a second, then shyly avoided him. He
hardly could have been sure which was master, her serenity or her
girlish delight in being attractively dressed; but there could be
no doubt as to her self-possession; for, saving the pretty blush
under his almost rude gaze of admiration, she bore herself as
firmly as any fine lady he remembered.
They walked together to the river house, she daintily holding up
her skirts, under the insistent verbal direction of Madame
Roussillon, and at the same time keeping a light, strangely
satisfying touch on his arm. When they entered the room there was
no way for Beverley to escape full consciousness of the excitement
they aroused; but M. Roussillon's assumption broke the force of
what would have otherwise been extremely embarrassing.
"It is encouraging, very encouraging," murmured the big man to
Beverley in the midst of the staring and scrambling and craning of
necks, "to have my people admire and love me so; it goes to the
middle of my heart." And again he bowed and waved his hand with an
all-including gesture, while he swept his eyes over the crowd.
Alice and Beverley were soon in the whirl of the dance, forgetful
of everything but an exhilaration stirred to its utmost by Oncle
Jazon's music.
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