her, and
were passing across to the capitol, with the intent of looking in upon
the deliberations of the houses of Congress, when all at once, as we
crossed the corridor, I felt him touch my arm.

"Did you see that young lady?" he asked of me. "She looked at you,
yess?"

I was in the act of turning, even as he spoke. Certainly had I been
alone I would have seen Elisabeth, would have known that she was there.

It was Elisabeth, alone, and hurrying away! Already she was approaching
the first stair. In a moment she would be gone. I sprang after her by
instinct, without plan, clear in my mind only that she was going, and
with her all the light of the world; that she was going, and that she
was beautiful, adorable; that she was going, and that she was Elisabeth!

As I took a few rapid steps toward her, I had full opportunity to see
that no grief had preyed upon her comeliness, nor had concealment fed
upon her damask cheek. Almost with some resentment I saw that she had
never seemed more beautiful than on this morning. The costume of those
days was trying to any but a beautiful woman; yet Elisabeth had a way of
avoiding extremes which did not appeal to her individual taste. Her
frock now was all in pink, as became the gentle spring, and the bunch of
silvery ribbons which fluttered at her belt had quite the agreeing
shade to finish in perfection the cool, sweet picture that she made. Her
sleeves were puffed widely, and for the lower arm were opened just
sufficiently. She carried a small white parasol, with pinked edges, and
her silken mitts, light and dainty, matched the clear whiteness of her
arms. Her face, turned away from me, was shaded by a wide round bonnet,
not quite so painfully plain as the scooplike affair of the time, but
with a drooping brim from which depended a slight frilling of sheer
lace. Her smooth brown hair was drawn primly down across her ears, as
was the fashion of the day, and from the masses piled under the bonnet
brim there fell down a curl, round as though made that moment, and not
yet limp from the damp heat of Washington. Fresh and dainty and restful
as a picture done on Dresden, yet strong, fresh, fully competent,
Elisabeth walked as having full right in the world and accepting as her
due such admiration as might be offered. If she had ever known a care,
she did not show it; and, I say, this made me feel resentment. It was
her proper business to appear miserable.

If she indeed resembled a rar