`` Never , Rob . It seems to me now like a beautiful garment put on for a holiday and worn easily and pleasantly for a time . But I 've put it off now , and put on workaday clothes again . It is only a week since I left Dalveigh , but it seems long ago . Listen to the wind , Rob ! It is singing of the good days to be for you and me . '' He bent over and kissed her . `` My own dear lass ! '' he said softly . The Martyrdom of Estella Estella was waiting under the poplars at the gate for Spencer Morgan . She was engaged to him , and he always came to see her on Saturday and Wednesday evenings . It was after sunset , and the air was mellow and warm-hued . The willow trees along the walk and the tall birches in the background stood out darkly distinct against the lemon-tinted sky . The breath of mint floated out from the garden , and the dew was falling heavily . Estella leaned against the gate , listening for the sound of wheels and dreamily watching the light shining out from the window of Vivienne LeMar 's room . The blind was up and she could see Miss LeMar writing at her table . Her profile was clear and distinct against the lamplight . Estella reflected without the least envy that Miss LeMar was very beautiful . She had never seen anyone who was really beautiful before -- beautiful with the loveliness of the heroines in the novels she sometimes read or the pictures she had seen . Estella Bowes was not pretty .
She was a nice-looking girl , with clear eyes , rosy cheeks , and a pervading XXXXX of the content and happiness her life had always known .
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