But do not awaken my apprehension, unless you have good cause for so doing. ‘How do you do? I am so happy to meet you. "You've given him a broken head, I perceive. The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream—the darkling current hurrying by—the indistinctly-seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making their way in ghostlike silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, have something doleful in their note—the solemn shadows cast by the bridges—the deeper gloom of the echoing arches—the lights glimmering from the banks—the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a fire kindled on some stationary barge—the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses, as discerned through the obscurity;—these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in meditation at such a time and in such a place. The more she disentangled the lines of her situation the deeper grew her self-disgust. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. “Lucy, this isn’t funny anymore. The shouts drew nearer, and lights were seen flashing ruddily against the sides and gables of the neighbouring houses. "And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. But when he looked again, there she was! "I don't understand," he said, finally. The rest of his attire was nondescript. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her. How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it.
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