The major’s hand stilled. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance. It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair.
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