But Julian could see that she longed, as
well as dreaded, to meet him again. After all, had he not picked her out
from all the girlhood of London as one to whom he wished, to do honour?
Had he been the Minotaur, such a fact must have made her look upon him
with desirous interest.
When the great day arrived poor Cuckoo had to struggle with a keen and a
sore temptation. She longed to deck herself out in her usual borrowed
plumage, to take the habitual brilliant complexion out of the accustomed
drawer, to crown her frizzed head with feathers, and to look noisily
dashing--her only idea of elegance and grace. Never before had she so
desired to create an impression. Yet she had given Julian her most solemn
promise, and she intended to keep it. As she slowly attired herself,
however, she wondered very much why he was so set upon denuding her of
her accustomed magnificence. Her mind was entirely unable to grasp his
conception of beauty and of attractiveness. She thought all men preferred
the peony to the violet. To-night it was very certain that she would be
no peony, scarcely even a violet. Her new gown had been expensive, but it
was terribly simple, and the skirt hung beautifully, but was surely most
direfully sombre.
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