gems reflected his figure; luxurious divans invited to
repose. Everywhere his eye met graceful draperies
and artistically blended colors. Silk and gold com
bined to make up a scene that was like a dream of
fable. Cecil s dazzled eyes wandered over all this
splendor, then came back to Wallulah s face again.
"I have seen nothing like this in my own land, not even in the King s palace. How came such beautiful things here among the Indians?"
"They were saved from the vessel that was wrecked. They were my mother s, and she had them arranged thus. This was her lodge. It is mine now. I have never entered any other. I have never been inside an Indian wigwam. My mother forbade it, for fear that I might grow like the savage occupants."
Cecil knew now how she had preserved her grace and refinement amid her fierce and squalid surround ings. Again her face changed and the wistful look came back. Her wild delicate nature seemed to change every moment, to break out in a hundred varying impulses.
"I love beautiful things," she said, drawing a fold of tapestry against her cheek. "They seem half human. I love to be among them and feel their influence. These were my mother s, and it seems as if part of her life was in them. Sometimes, after she died, I used to shut my eyes and put my cheek against the soft hangings and try to think it was the touch of her hand; or I would read from her favor ite poets and try to think that I heard her repeating them to me again!"
"Read!" exclaimed Cecil; "then you have books? "
"Oh, yes, I will show you all my treasures."
