“Why should one pretend? “Think of all the beauty in the world that is covered up and overlaid. I came to beg you instead to do me the honour of becoming my wife. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. 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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