No
forest, but a tropical orchard, rich in lime, banana, plantain, palm,
and orange trees, under whose protective shade grew the evergreen coffee
plant, whose dark-red berries are the fortune of their possessor, and
the luxury of one-half the world. Wide avenues diverging from the
mansion, with its belt of brilliant shrubs and flowers, formed shadowy
vistas, along which, on the wings of the wind, came a breath of far-off
music, like a wooing voice; for the magic of night and distance lulled
the cadence of a Spanish _contradanza_ to a trance of sound, soft,
subdued, and infinitely sweet. It was a southern scene, but not a
southern face that looked out upon it with such unerring glance; there
was no southern languor in the figure, stately and erect; no southern
swarthiness on fairest cheek and arm; no southern darkness in the
shadowy gold of the neglected hair; the light frost of northern snows
lurked in the features, delicately cut, yet vividly alive, betraying a
temperament ardent, dominant, and subtle. For passion burned in the deep
eyes, changing their violet to black. Pride sat on the forehead, with
its dark brows; all a woman's sweetest spells touched the lips, whose
shape was a smile; and in the spirited carriage of the head appeared the
freedom of an intellect ripened under colder skies, the energy of a
nature that could wring strength from suffering, and dare to act where
feebler souls would only dare desire.
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