e. It was more like a ringing sound than
like a voice; I had noticed it, little dreaming that that voice would
ring loud and deep forever through my life. The next day I thought no
more of it.

One day, however, on returning home earlier, and entering by the little
garden-door near the arbor, I had a nearer view of the stranger, who
was seated on a bench under the southern wall, enjoying the warm rays
of the sun. She thought herself alone, for she had not heard the sound
of the door as I closed it behind me, and I could contemplate her
unobserved. We were within twenty paces of each other, and were only
separated by a vine, which was half-stripped of its leaves. The shade
of the vine-leaves and the rays of the sun played and chased each other
alternately over her face. She appeared larger than life, as she sat
like one of those marble statues enveloped in drapery, of which we
admire the beauty without distinguishing the form. The folds of her
dress were loose and flowing, and the drapery of a white shawl, folded
closely round her, showed only her slender and rather attenuated hands,
which were crossed on her lap. In one, she carelessly held one of those
red flowers which grow in the mountains beneath the snow, and are
called, I know not why, "poets' flowers." One end of her shawl was
thrown over her head like a hood, to protect her from the damp evening
air. She was bent languidly forward, her head inclined upon her left
shoulder; and the eyelids, with their long dark lashes, were closed
against the dazzling rays of the sun. Her complexion was pale, her
features motionless, and her countenance so expressive of profound and
silent meditation, that she resembled a statue of Death; but of that
Death which bears away the soul beyond the reach of human woes to the
regions of eternal light and love. The sound of my footsteps on the dry
leaves made her look up. Her large half-closed eyes were of that
peculiar tint resembling the color of lapis lazuli, streaked with
brown, and the drooping lid had that natural fringe of long dark
lashes, which Eastern women strive by art to imitate, in order to
impart a voluptuous wildness to their look and energy even to their
languor. The light of those eyes seemed to come from a distance which I
have never measured in any other mortal eye. It was as the rays of the
stars, which seem to seek us out, and to approach us as we gaze, and
yet have travelled millions of miles through the heavens. T