" The hint was not lost upon Wood. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. Lucy auditioned on a borrowed violin.
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