Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. They seemed to her that morning to be all armed with nets and prepared to throw them over her directly her movements became in any manner truly free. ‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. She gathered up the chain, revealing a locket which had lain hidden in her bosom. Sebastian physically restrained her as she hit and scratched at him, trying to touch her mother who went swiftly into her death throes.
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