outline. A brow noble as if never unworthy or ungenerous thought had crossed its white expanse; the red lip somewhat scornful, but smiling, when it did smile, with the sweetness of a thousand common smiles. Large lustrous eyes, passionate, thoughtful, clear, and calm—their general character was repose; but the lightning slept in their midnight depths—that flash which the mind alone can give, but whose light is that of the sky whence it emanates. Usually of a clear, delicate, yet healthy paleness, any strong emotion would flood her cheek with crimson—a rich, regal dye, as the heart poured forth its wealth in one glowing and prodigal tide; and that surest test of beauty—some might say that it was not to their taste, which contradiction, whim, or some other association had turned in favour of a different style; but none could deny its existence—no one would have thought of calling her merely pretty.
Long indeed did that morning appear to Francesca—the longer as her anxiety was unexpressed; for it certainly does shorten a period of waiting not a little to spend it in talking over its various probabilities of termination, wondering what will happen, while we are consoled by the strong sympathy we excite in the listener. But Francesca had never mentioned her peculiar situation with regard to
