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Updated: June 14, 2025
Ippolita was neither: she was beautiful, and when you came to know her face, lovely. They are brown, she was fair; they are little, she was very tall. They have eyes like a dove's, glossed brown; hers were deeply blue, the colour of the Adriatic when a fleeting cloud spreads a curtain of hyacinth over the sheeted turquoise bed. Chance sparks kindle chance tinder; and so here.
Margery wore a soft grey flannel, the colour of a dove's throat, adorned with rows upon rows of silver braid and sparkling silver buttons; while her big grey hat had nothing but a silver cord and tassel tied round it in Spanish fashion. Polly was all in sailor blue, with a distractingly natty little double-breasted coat and great white rolling collar.
Camperdown, could any good effect arise from his doing so, he considered that, were he to be present on this occasion, he would simply assist in embarrassing the poor lady. On this very morning, while Mrs. Carbuncle was abusing Lizzie in Hertford Street, John Eustace and Mr. Camperdown were in Mr. Dove's chambers, whither they had gone to tell him of the coming interview.
She was mine since that first morning by your well when the high head bent to my hand. What a woman she is, Maid of the Long Trail, Spirit of the Woods and Lakes! A lioness with a dove's heart! I have seen the Queen of the World in this God-forsaken wilderness; therefore is it worth while." "Stop!" cried McElroy sharply; "let the old wound be. Only make ready to act at once."
The very next morning the stepmother arrived at the palace with an ointment that the old witch had given her to place upon her daughter's tongue, which would break the dove's spell, if the rightful bride had really been drowned in the sea; if not, then it would be useless.
Nine o'clock for breakfast, I suppose?" Mr. Dove's Opinion Mr. Thomas Dove, familiarly known among club-men, attorneys' clerks, and, perhaps, even among judges when very far from their seats of judgment, as Turtle Dove, was a counsel learned in the law.
"But I do not think thou ever didst hate Christians as some of our nation do." "Child, Belasez! how could I, when the best love of my white dove's heart had been given to a Christian and a Gentile? I loved her, more than thou canst imagine. But would my love have been true, had I hated what she loved best? Where is thy father, my darling?"
One of those strangely unsuggested remembrances flashed into her mind: the gleam of a dove's white wing against the burning blue of a July sky, the blaze of flowers in the rectory garden, and the subtle, penetrating fragrance of mignonette.
Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair," he continued, pressing upon her; "thou hast dove's eyes within thy locks. Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet." "Hark!" cried Prudence, pushing him back, "I hear a noise." "I hear no sound," said Spikeman, after listening for a moment, "save the voice of my beloved.
He stood a moment looking at it; he knew he had seen it before. He had an excellent memory for faces; but it was some time before he was able to attach an identity to this one. Where had he seen a little elderly lady with an expression of timorous vigilance, and a band of hair as softly white as a dove's wing?
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