Few had ever heard her story, or, hearing it, had remembered; the careless many thought her an orphan, bound to Darden and his wife,--in effect their servant.

If she had beauty, the ladies and gentlemen who saw her, Sunday after Sunday, in the minister's pew, had scarce discovered it.

She was too dark, too slim, too shy and strange of look, with her great brown eyes and that startled turn of her head.

Their taste was for lilies and roses, and it was not an age that counted shyness a grace.
Mr.Marmaduke Haward was not likely to be accused of diffidence.

He had come out of church with the sleepy-headed churchwarden, who was now wide awake and mightily concerned to know what horse Mr.Haward meant to enter for the great race at Mulberry Island, while at the foot of the steps he was seized upon by another portly vestryman, and borne off to be presented to three blooming young ladies, quick to second their papa's invitation home to dinner.