"I have him!" cried a voice in triumph. She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand. Sheppard was committed to the earth. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. She never knew what became of her farmer after that. Melusine tilted her head to catch sight of her neck, and froze, staring at the image. 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. But then he began to take steps, and, at last, strides to something more and more like predominance. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. He had said so. Better take these sandwiches. She donned her gloves.
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