So down they went, the
two attendants in front, and Sara following, with possibly a little
intensification of her usual measured and stately tread. Thus they
entered the drawing-room, the two ladies parting to right and left
before her, as might two maids of honor attending some royal personage,
the stately white-robed figure advancing, with head slightly bent, as if
in modest disclaiming of all this parade over one so young.
"Oh!" cried Molly shrilly, "it's Sara, and she looks like a queen!"
while the three gentlemen, farther down the room, turned quickly from
their talk, and one said, under his breath,--
"A princess, indeed!"
Then they all surrounded her, even dignified Professor Macon showing his
enjoyment of the masquerade, while Professor Grandet spread out both
hands, and cried, "Beautifool! Beautifool!" in a French rapture.
Only Robert Glendenning said nothing more, unless eyes speak; but Sara
did not seem to miss the lack of words on his part.
"It is strange, now," observed the host reflectively, after the first
outburst had subsided, "what a transformation dress is! I shall never
again quite dare to think of Miss Sara as a little girl; she has crossed
the brook, she has entered into woman's kingdom, and all because of a
long white gown!"
Sara turned to him.
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