The
dress in which she was painted had been worn to a dinner at the White
House during the first Cleveland Administration. It was of white
brocade, with its ostrich feather trimming making it a rather regal
robe. It had tight sleeves, and the neck was square. Around her
throat was a wide collar of pearls with diamond slides. Her fair hair
was combed back in the low pompadour of the period, and there were
round flat curls on her temples. The picture was old-fashioned, but
the painted woman was exquisite, as she had always been, as she would
always be in Derry's dreams.
The great house had given to the General's wife her proper setting.
She had trailed her satins and silks up and down the marble stairway.
Her slender hands, heavy with their rings, had rested on its
balustrade, its mirrors had reflected the diamond tiara with which the
General had crowned her. In the vast drawing room, the gold and jade
and ivory treasures in the cabinets had seemed none too fine for this
greatest treasure of them all. In the dining room the priceless
porcelains had been cheapened by her greater worth. The General had
travelled far and wide, and he had brought the wealth of the world to
lay at the feet of his young wife.
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