I passed
on, with a feeling of disappointment bordering on disgust, when I came
to a room which went far to redeem the character of the sex in my
estimation. Here all was neatness and propriety: every thing was either
in place, or only enough out of it to indicate the recent occupation of
the room, or to show the taste or talent of the occupant; such as a book
left half open at one end of an ottoman, and a piece of embroidery at
the other. The flowers too, which decorated the room, showed by their
freshness that they had not long left their beds. I could not help
stopping to survey a scene which accorded so well with my previous
notions of female refinement. At the end of the gallery was a veranda,
facing the east, and surrounded by lattices. In this were a number of
flower-pots, arranged with the same air of neatness and taste as had
been conspicuous in the chamber. I entered it, for the purpose of
looking into the flower-garden, with which it communicated; and on
approaching the lattice, I saw, seated in an alcove not far from the
veranda, a face and form that struck me as being the most beautiful I
had ever beheld. I remained for some time riveted to the spot, but soon
found myself irresistibly impelled to get a nearer view of the lovely
object. With as light a step and as little noise as possible, I
descended into the garden from the veranda, and approaching the alcove
on the side where its foliage was thickest, I found that the beauty, of
which I had before thought so highly, did not appear less on a closer
survey.
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