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CHAPTER VI.
Delia Floyd was a girl of more than ordinary attractions, and it is
not surprising that young Wallingford was drawn, fascinated, within
the charmed circle of her influence. She was, by no means, the weak,
vain, beautiful young woman, that the brief allusion I have made to
her might naturally lead the reader to infer. I had possessed good
opportunities for observing her, for our families were intimate, and
she was frequently at our house. Her father had given her a good
education--not showy; but of the solid kind. She was fond of books,
and better read, I think, in the literature of the day, than any
other young lady in S----. Her conversational powers were of a high
order. Good sense, I had always given her credit for possessing; and
I believed her capable of reading character correctly. She was the
last one I should have regarded as being in danger of losing a heart
to Ralph Dewey.
In person, Delia was rather below than above the middle stature. Her
hair was of a dark brown, and so were her eyes--the latter large and
liquid.
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