The Argosy — page 140: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A Capriccio. 125 eyes ; and the general effect was of a radiant vivacity that attracted my fancy. Evidently she was not much over thirty ; and judging from her appearance, would not make a very hard or alarming mistress. “My dear little Phyllis,” she cried; ‘with your dark curls and piquante face you are ravishing, I can tell you. And how tall are you? You are a regular may-pole—just two inches above the correct height fora woman. Never mind—your figure will improve as you erow older. I like your looks, and I think we shall be good friends by and bye. But you must always be merry and gay, or I shall be in a dreadful bad temper—oh, dreadful, I can assure you. It is so dull, so dull here in the country, with no neighbours, except the dreariest of old bores, that existence becomes a misery—a despair. All you have to do is to amuse me, and to look after my precious Bijou and Mignon. Are they not angelic P” “Ves, indeed. I am fond of dogs,” I answered. Nevertheless, my heart did not go out towards the angelic Bijou and Mignon, as I elanced at the two pampered lap-dogs that were snoring in the most luxurious chairs in the room. “JT am afraid,” I faltered, “that you will find me very—very unamusing. I have never been anywhere, or seen anything, and I am very ignorant.” Yes; you are younger than I should have wished,” she said, flinging herself back into her chair and yawning; ‘‘ but you look as if you had plenty of esfvzt, in spite of your little shepherdess air. Remember, I am very capricious ; and I have quarrelled with three lady-companions already. Now I will ring, and tell my maid, Justine, to take you to your room.” It did not take me many days to discover that Lady Corisande was, as she had told me, very capricious ; and not only capricious, but decidedly eccentric as well. Her chief characteristic (and in justice I may add she had no worse fault) was an excessive vanity and love of admiration. It gave me quite a shock when I went to her room one morning before she had completed her elaborate toilette, to find her with half the beautiful bloom of her cheeks vanished, and her eyes a little less dark and brilliant than usual. She was really so handsome that she required no artificial aid, which is, to my mind, neither correct nor becoming. I felt myself blush with shame for her, and wondered what my mother would have said had she known that IY was living with what she would have called “‘a be-painted French hussy,” who, alas, spoilt herself by cosmetics, tight lacing, and dangerously high heels. However, apart from this, Lady Corisande was, at heart, a far better woman than many I have known; for she was kind-hearted to the last degree, ready to make the best of everything, and of a warm, impulsive nature. She was very good to me, and my life was happier than I could connicloooks (C(O)