ast of a maiden, not
of a mother with a young child.

She leaned over it and watched it asleep. Once or twice she touched
its head in affection; then presently looked up and saw me. If I had
had no surprise coming upon her, neither now had she. Her eyes took me
in, as mine might take in a tree not noticed before, or a flowering
bush, or a finger-post. Such things might well be there, and might
well not be; I had no particular interest for her, and gave her no
alarm. Nothing assures me so certainly of her remoteness from myself,
and of my kinship with her too, as this absence of shock.

She allowed me to come nearer, and nearer still, to stand close over
her and examine the child. She did not lift her head, but I knew that
she was aware of me; for her eyelids lifted and fell quickly, and
showed me once or twice her watchful eyes. She was indeed a beautiful
creature, exquisite in make and finish. Her skin shone like the petals
of certain flowers. There is one especially, called _Sisyrinchium_,
whose common name of Satin-flower describes a surface almost metallic
in its lustre. I thought of that immediately: her skin drank in and
exhaled light. I could not hit upon the stuff of which her shift was
made. It looked like coarse silk, had a web, had fibres or threads. It
may have been flax, but that it was much too sinuous. It seemed to
stick to the body where it touched, even to seek the flesh where it
did not touch, that it might cling like gossamer with invisible
tentacles. In colour it was very pale yellow, not worn nor stained. It
was perfectly simple, sleeveless, and stopped half-way between the hip
and the knee. I looked for, but could not discover, either hem or
seam. Her feet and hands were very lovely, the toes and fingers long
and narrow, rosy-brown. I had full sight of her eyes for one throbbing
moment. Extraordinarily bright, quick and pulsing, waxing and waning
in intensity (as if an inner light beat in them), of the grey colour
of a chipped flint stone. The lashes were long, curving and very dark;
they were what you might call smut-colour and gave a blurred effect to
the eyes which was strange. This, among other things, was what set her
apart from us, this and the patient yet palpitating stare of her
regard. She looked at me suddenly, widely and full, taking in much
more than me, yet making me the centre of her vision. It gave me the
idea that she was surprised at my nearness and ready for any attack,
but did