that his clear olive complexion had not the line of health, that
there was a world of oppression on his broad brow and deep hazel
eyes, and that it was a dim, dreamy, reluctant smile that was
awakened by the voice of the lady who walked by his side, as if
reverencing his grave mood.

She was rather tall, very graceful, and well made, but her features
were less handsome than sweet, bright, and sensible. Her hair was
nut-brown, in long curled waves; her eyes, deep soft grey, and though
downcast under the new sympathies, new feelings, and responsibilities
that crowded on her, the smile and sparkle that lighted them as she
blushed and nodded to her brother and sister, showed that liveliness
was the natural expression of that engaging face.

Say what they would, it was evident that Albinia Ferrars had cast in
her lot with Edmund Kendal, and that her energetic spirit and love of
children animated her to embrace joyfully the cares which such a
choice must impose on her.

As might have been perceived by one glance at the figure, step, and
bearing of Mr. Ferrars, perfectly clerical though they were, he
belonged to a military family. His father had been a distinguished
Peninsular officer, and his brother, older by many years, held a
command in Canada. Maurice and Albinia, early left orphans, had,
with a young cousin, been chiefly under the charge of their aunts,
Mrs. Annesley and Miss Ferrars, and had found a kind home in their
house in Mayfair, until Maurice had been ordained to the family
living of Fairmead, and his sister had gone to live with him there,
extorting the consent of her elder brother to her spending a more
real and active life than her aunts' round of society could offer