O, how happy she was! She went from room to room re-arranging the lace
curtains, and placing every chair and couch in its prettiest position.
The table on such holidays is a kind of altar, and she spread it with
the snowiest damask, the clearest crystal, and the brightest silver.
She made it beautiful with fresh cool ferns and budding roses. Outside
Nature had done her part. The orange-trees filled the air with subtle
fragrance, and the warm south wind wafted it in waves of perfume
through the open doors and windows. Every vine was in its first beauty,
every tree and shrub had as yet its spring grace, that luminous emerald
transparency which seems to make the very atmosphere green. The garden
was wearing all its lilies and pansies and sweet violets, and the birds
were building, and shedding song upon every tree-top.
To meet her lover, when that lover comes back from the battle-field
with the light of victory on his brow, what women will not put on all
her beautiful garments? Phyllis's dark eyes held a wonderfully tender
light, and the soft, rich pallor of her complexion took just the shadow
of color from the dress of pale pink which fell in flowing lines to
her small sandaled feet. A few white narcissus were at her belt and
in her black hair, and a fairer picture of pure and graceful womanhood
never gladdened a lover's heart.
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