“Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. Who says that I am not Meysey Hill? I was trying to scare you. Besides ——” She stopped short. The starling, on which the carpenter stood, was the fourth from the Surrey shore. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it.
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