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Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. —"As Rowland's whole crew perished in the tempest, and he only escaped by miracle, he fancied himself free from detection. What's the idea of the black border?" "My father recently died, sir. He smiled tenderly.
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