A large,
expressive mouth, with wonderful rows of ivory, and the prettiest little
black down, fine as a hair, on her upper lip, and a skin rather dark but
clear, and glowing with the warm blood beneath it, completed this noble
girl. She was nineteen years of age.
Colonel Clifford received her with warm affection and old-fashioned
courtesy; but as he was disabled by a violent fit of gout, he deputed
Walter to attend to her on foot and horseback.
Miss Clifford, accustomed to homage, laid Walter under contribution every
day. She was very active, and he had to take her a walk in the morning,
and a ride in the afternoon. He winced a little under this at first; it
kept him so much from Mary. But there was some compensation. Julia
Clifford was a lady-like rider, and also a bold and skillful one.
The first time he rode with her he asked her beforehand what sort of a
horse she would like.
"Oh, anything," said she, "that is not vicious nor slow."
"A hack or a hunter?"
"Oh, a hunter, if I _may_."
"Perhaps you will do me the honor to look at them and select.
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