For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing. It pained Lucy to see Mike eating so sparely. 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. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love.
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