"How very like it is!" "Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, "that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. “FAIL!” she said. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. "Oh! Sir, if you'd seen her as I've seen her, you'd not wish her a continuance of misery. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend.
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