Her dark hair had been more than once dishevelled by the morning wind that day. Her attire was a light, neatly fitting, but amply flowing dress of muslin; the shawl she had worn in the garden was still draped in a careless fold round her. Indolent, wilful, picturesque, and singularly pretty was her aspect--prettier than usual, as if some soft inward emotion, stirred who knows how, had given new bloom and expression to her features.

Her dark hair was dishevelled; wilful she looked, and singularly pretty - prettier than usual, as if some soft inward emotion had given new bloom to her features.
