I—I am a lovesick idiot, and not accountable for my actions. Ruth obeyed, not willingly, but because there was something hypnotic in the authoritative tone. By following her he had discovered her secret nook in the rocks. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. She drew it out with shaking fingers. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days.
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