She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. I’m sorry to hurt your feelings. What a contrast did the lovely scene she now gazed upon present to the squalid neighbourhood she had recently quitted! On all sides, expanded prospects of country the most exquisite and most varied. At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge. “It couldn’t be. .
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