She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. 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. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. The infant was rescued from a watery-grave by an honest mechanic, who has since brought him up as his own son. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. The room seemed a vacuum. I have been in torment all the while to know whether it was to Anna or to Annabel that you were making love so charmingly.
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