I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. Me, I prefer to forget that I have such a father. "This locket," he said, taking a little ornament attached to a black ribband from his breast, and giving it her,—"do you remember it?" "I do—I do!" cried Winifred. Darrell's eyes were of that clear gray which it is difficult to distinguish from blue by day and black at night; and his rich brown hair, which he could not consent to part with, even on the promise of a new and modish peruke from his adoptive father, fell in thick glossy ringlets upon his shoulders; whereas Jack's close black crop imparted the peculiar bullet-shape we have noticed, to his head. Courtlaw for his true verdict, and he gave it me. Our quarrel's quite over. The only departure which he made from the fashion of the period, was in respect to the peruke—an article he could never be induced to wear. .
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