Cyrus and Deborah shivered as if they had heard sacrilege . Joscelyn had put on a trailing , clinging black skirt which her aunt had sent her a year ago and which she had never been permitted to wear . It transformed her into a woman . She had cast aside her waist of dark plum-coloured homespun and wrapped a silken shawl about herself until only her beautiful arms and shoulders were left bare . Her hair , glossy and brown , with burnished red lights where the rays of the dull autumn sun struck on it through the window , was heaped high on her head and held in place by a fillet of pearl beads . Her cheeks were crimson , her whole body from head to foot instinct and alive with a beauty that to Cyrus and Deborah , as they stood mute with horror in the open doorway , seemed akin to some devilish enchantment . Joscelyn , rapt away from her surroundings , did not perceive her grandparents . Her face was turned from them and she was addressing an unseen auditor in passionate denunciation . She spoke , moved , posed , gesticulated , with an inborn genius shining through every motion and tone like an illuminating lamp . `` Josie , what are you doing ? '' It was Cyrus who spoke , advancing into the room like a stern , hard impersonation of judgment . Joscelyn 's outstretched arm fell to her side and she turned sharply around ; fear came into her face and the light went out of it . A moment before she had been a woman , splendid , unafraid ; now she was again the schoolgirl , too confused and shamed to speak . `` What are you doing , Josie ? '' asked her grandfather again , `` dressed up in that indecent manner and talking and twisting to yourself ? '' Joscelyn 's face , that had grown pale , flamed scarlet again . She lifted her head proudly . `` I was trying Aunt Annice 's part in her new play , '' she answered . `` I have not been doing anything wrong , Grandfather . '' `` Wrong !
It 's your mother 's blood coming out XXXXX you , girl , in spite of all our care !
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