He composed himself in his chair again, and, presently, a third figure
grew into form and color before him. At first, as a stately young girl,
with the arched feet and hot blood of the south, and her eyes dark and
soft as a Spaniard's; but her beauty lasted but for a moment. A
withering change came over face and figure: she was cold and hard; her
youthful ardor, warmth, and freshness, had been shrivelled up or worn
away. The rich black hair grew rusty, and the dark, delicate complexion
became dull and lustreless. Nevertheless, the professor continued to
look with hopeful expectation, confident that a further alteration would
ensue, which, though, it would not restore the grace of youth, would
give a peace and happiness yet more beautiful. And, indeed, it seemed,
for a moment, as though his expectation would be gratified. The figure
raised its head, and held forth its hands, and the professor's bright
anticipation was reflected in its eyes. But, alas! the brightness faded
almost before it could be affirmed to exist. The hands dropped to the
sides, the head was averted, and the whole form shrank back, and sank to
the ground. For the third time--the professor's imagination was
certainly playing him strange tricks this evening--the ghost of spoken
words appeared to fall upon his ears, and sink like molten lead into his
heart.
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