People stared at him a little as he passed – since in eighteen hundred and eighty he was before his time in not wearing a cap. His eyes – dark grey, with a good deal of light in them, and very black lashes – had a way of looking beyond what they saw, so that he did not seem always to be quite present but his smile was exceedingly swift, uncovering teeth as white as a negro’s, and giving his face a peculiar eagerness. His face, too, was a curious blend, for, though it was strongly formed, its expression was rather soft and moody. A youth of middle height, and built as if he had come of two very different strains, one sturdy, the other wiry and light. He walked along Holywell that afternoon of early June with his short gown drooping down his arms, and no cap on his thick dark hair. The stars rejoice to watch thee on thy way.” “Take the flower from my breast, I pray thee,Īnd then go hence, for see, the night is fair,
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