“I’m fine,” she said softly. ” “I don’t care how we meet,” she said. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. And the woollen-draper departed. There must be something we can do. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully. ’ ‘On the contrary. It is a true saying that in the mountains there is peace. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley.
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