A female stood on the spot, from which Ellen had been so fearfully
expelled. Her person was of the smallest size that is believed to
comport with beauty, and which poets and artists have chosen as the
beau ideal of feminine loveliness. Her dress was of a dark and glossy
silk, and fluttered like gossamer around her form. Long, flowing, and
curling tresses of hair, still blacker and more shining than her robe,
fell at times about her shoulders, completely enveloping the whole of
her delicate bust in their ringlets; or at others streaming in the
wind. The elevation at which she stood prevented a close examination
of the lineaments of a countenance which, however, it might be seen
was youthful, and, at the moment of her unlooked-for appearance,
eloquent with feeling. So young, indeed, did this fair and fragile
being appear, that it might be doubted whether the age of childhood
was entirely passed. One small and exquisitely moulded hand was
pressed on her heart, while with the other she made an impressive
gesture, which seemed to invite Ishmael, if further violence was
meditated, to direct it against her bosom.
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