'Angelina is bully about the muzzle,' said Maulevrier; 'we shall have to
give her away.'
'Oh, don't,' cried Mary. 'She is a most perfect darling, and laughs so
deliciously whenever she sees me.'
Angelina was in Lady Mary's arms at this moment; a beautifully marked
little creature, all thew and sinew, palpitating with suppressed
emotions, and grinning to her heart's content.
Lady Mary looked very fresh and bright in her neat tailor gown, kilted
kirtle, and tight-fitting bodice, with neat little brass buttons. It was
a gown of Maulevrier's ordering, made at his own tailor's. Her splendid
chestnut hair was uncovered, the short crisp curls about her forehead
dancing in the morning air. Her large, bright; brown eyes were dancing,
too, with delight at having her brother home again.
She shook hands with Mr. Hammond more graciously than last night; but
still with a carelessness which was not complimentary, looking at him
absently, as if she hardly knew that he was there, and hugging Angelina
all the time.
Hammond told his friend about his ramble over the hills, yonder, up
above that homely bench called 'Rest, and be Thankful,' on the crest of
Loughrigg Fell.
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