At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. “Are these ordinary sapphires?” she said. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. Towards this spot Mrs. ‘Speak, then. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days.
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