" "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag. He still wore his hat, to show that the days of miracles and Christ being civil to sinners are over forever. 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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