onstraint and
confusion that she could accept of services from one whose whole air and
bearing bore the stamp of breeding and tact. Mademoiselle Nina had been
the maid of the Princess Menzikoff, the most distinguished belle
of Florence, the model of taste and elegance in dress; but when the
Princess separated from her husband, some unexplained circumstances
had involved the name of the femme de chambre, so that, instead of
"exchanging without a difference," as a person of her great abilities
might readily have done, she had disappeared for a while from the scene
and sphere in which habitually she moved, and only emerged from her
seclusion to accept the humble position of Kate Dalton's maid. She was a
perfect type of her own countrywomen in her own class of life. Small
and neatly formed, her head was too large for her size, and the forehead
over-large for the face, the brows and temples being developed
beyond all proportion. Her eyes, jet black and deeply set, were cold,
stern-looking, and sleepy, sadness, or rather weariness, being the
characteristic expression of the face. Her mouth, however, when she
smiled, relieved this, and gave a look of softness to her features. Her
manner was that of great distance and respect, the trained observance of
one who had been always held in the firm hand of discipline, and never
suffered to assume the slightest approach to a liberty. She contrived,
however, even in her silence, or in the very few words she ever uttered,
to throw an air of devotion into her service that took away from the
formality of a manner that at first seemed cold and even repulsive.
Kate, indeed, in the beginning, was thrown back by the studied reserve
and deferential distance she observed; but as days went over, and she
grew more accustomed to the girl's manner, she began to feel pleased
with the placid and unchanging demeanor that seemed to bespeak a mind
admirably trained and regulated to its own round of duties.

While Kate sat at a writing-table, adding a few lines to that letter
which, began more than a week ago, was still far from being completed,
Nina, whose place was beside the window, worked away with bent-down
head, not seeming to have a thought save for the occupation before her.
Not so Kate; fancies came and went at every instant, breaking in
upon the tenor of her thoughts, or wending far away on errands of
speculation. Now she would turn her eye from the page to gaze in
wondering delight at the tast