She noted , too , how well the gown became her eyes , bringing out all the deeper colour in them . Lucinda had magnificent eyes . Once Romney had written a sonnet to them in which he compared their colour to ripe blueberries . This may not sound poetical to you unless you know or remember just what the tints of ripe blueberries are -- dusky purple in some lights , clear slate in others , and yet again in others the misty hue of early meadow violets . `` You really look very well , '' remarked the real Lucinda to the mirrored Lucinda . `` Nobody would think you were an old maid . But you are . Alice Penhallow , who is to be married to-night , was a child of five when you thought of being married fifteen years ago . That makes you an old maid , my dear . Well , it is your own fault , and it will continue to be your own fault , you stubborn offshoot of a stubborn breed ! '' She flung her train out straight and pulled on her gloves . `` I do hope I wo n't get any spots on this dress to-night , '' she reflected . `` It will have to do me for a gala dress for a year at least -- and I have a creepy conviction that it is fearfully spottable . Bless Uncle Mark 's good , uncalculating heart ! How I would have detested it if he had given me something sensible and useful and ugly -- as Aunt Emilia would have done . '' They all went to `` young '' John Penhallow 's at early moonrise . Lucinda drove over the two miles of hill and dale with a youthful second cousin , by name , Carey Penhallow . The wedding was quite a brilliant affair . Lucinda seemed to pervade the social atmosphere , and everywhere she went a little ripple of admiration trailed after her like a wave . She was undeniably a belle , yet she found herself feeling faintly bored and was rather glad than otherwise when the guests began to fray off .
`` I 'm afraid I 'm losing my capacity XXXXX enjoyment , '' she thought , a little drearily .
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