in fact,” he added, looking at Dorothea, “of the lady whose portrait you have been noticing, my aunt Julia.”
The young man had laid down his sketchbook and risen. His bushy light-brown curls, as well as his youthfulness, identified him at once with Celia’s apparition.
“Dorothea, let me introduce to you my cousin, Mr. Ladislaw. Will, this is Miss Brooke.”
The cousin was so close now, that, when he lifted his hat, Dorothea could see a pair of gray eyes rather near together, a delicate irregular nose with a little ripple in it, and hair falling backward; but there was a mouth and chin of a more prominent, threatening aspect than belonged to the type of the grandmother’s miniature. Young Ladislaw did not feel it necessary to smile, as if he were charmed with this introduction to his future second cousin and her relatives; but wore rather a pouting air of discontent.