n chosen for the display of her sylphlike
figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow of her
countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting sun
falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window, that
seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful. Winifred's features would
have been pretty, for they were regular and delicately formed, if they
had not been slightly marked by the small-pox;--a disorder, that
sometimes spares more than it destroys, and imparts an expression to be
sought for in vain in the smoothest complexion. We have seen pitted
cheeks, which we would not exchange for dimples and a satin skin.
Winifred's face had a thoroughly amiable look. Her mouth was worthy of
her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and
pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about
them. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and
fringed by long silken lashes. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and
finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. She was
dressed in a little white frock, with a very long body, and very short
sleeves, which looked (from a certain fullness about the hips,) as if it
was intended to be worn with a hoop. Her slender throat was encircled by
a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of
her head rested a diminutive lace cap.

The room in which she sat was a portion of the garret, assigned, as we
have just stated, by Mr. Wood as a play-room to the two boys; and, like
most boy's playrooms, it exhibited a total absence of order, or
neatness. Things were thrown here and there, to be taken up, or again
cast aside, as the whim arose; while the broken-backed chairs and crazy
table bore the marks of many a conflict. The characters of the youthful
occupants of the room might be detected in every article it contained.
Darell's peculiar bent of mind was exemplified in a rusty broadsword, a
tall grenadier's cap, a musket without lock or ramrod, a belt and
cartouch-box, with other matters evincing a decided military taste.
Among his books, Plutarch's Lives, and the Histories of Great
Commanders, appeared to have been frequently consulted; but the dust had
gathered thickly upon the Carpenter's Manual, and a Treatise on
Trigonometry and Geometry. Beneath the shelf, containing these books,
hung the fine old ballad of '_St. George for England_' and a loyal
ditty, then much in vogue, called '_