It was a word
at once of cherished and revered meaning--the shibboleth of
her religion. It implied to her mind something remote and
unapproachable, yet to be earnestly striven after with all the
forces at her disposal. Even Herminia herself stretched a point in
favor of an occasion which she could plainly see Dolly regarded as
so important; she managed to indulge her darling in a couple of
dainty new afternoon dresses, which touched for her soul the very
utmost verge of allowable luxury. The materials were oriental; the
cut was the dressmaker's--not home-built, as usual. Dolly looked
so brave in them, with her rich chestnut hair and her creamy
complexion,--a touch, Herminia thought, of her Italian birthplace,--
that the mother's full heart leapt up to look at her. It almost
made Herminia wish she was rich--and anti-social, like the rich
people--in order that she might be able to do ample justice to the
exquisite grace of Dolly's unfolding figure. Tall, lissome,
supple, clear of limb and light of footstep, she was indeed a girl
any mother might have been proud of.
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