It is the evening of the 21st of June 1788. The day has been bright and sultry, and the sun will still be more than an hour above the horizon, but his rays, broken by the leafy fretwork of the elms that border the park, no longer prevent two ladies from carrying out their cushions and embroidery³, and seating themselves to work on the lawn in front of Cheverel Manor⁴. The soft turf gives way even under the fairy tread of the younger lady, whose small stature⁵ and slim figure rest on the tiniest of full-grown feet. She trips along before the elder, carrying the cushions, which she places in the favourite spot, just on the slope by a clump⁶ of laurels⁷, where they can see the sunbeams sparkling among the water-lilies, and can be themselves seen from the dining-room windows. She has deposited the cushions, and now turns round, so that you may have a full view of her as she stands waiting the slower advance of the elder lady. You are at once arrested by her large dark eyes, which, in their inexpressive unconscious beauty, resemble the eyes of a fawn⁸, and it is only by an effort of attention that you notice the absence of bloom on her young cheek, and the southern yellowish tint⁹ of her small neck and face, rising above the little black lace kerchief which prevents the too immediate¹⁰ comparison of her skin with her white muslin gown. Her large eyes seem all the more striking because the dark hair is gathered away from her face, under a little cap set at the top of her head, with a cherry-coloured bow on one side.