She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. The young rascal had learnt from some of the women-servants that Lady Trafford was from home, and was in the very act of making off when I got down stairs. Sadly, the Christmas break came to an end. The room seemed a vacuum. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking. But, taking the chisel from Blueskin, Jack quickly forced back the bolt. Proof? There is someone who might be willing to help. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian.
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