Kilmeny of the Orchard

that he really was. He had a round, rosy face, fringed with white whiskers, a fine head of long white hair, and a pursed—up mouth. Only in his blue eyes was a twin- kle that would have made any man who designed getting the better of him in a bargain think twice before he made the attempt.

It was easily seen that Eric must have inherited his personal beauty and distinc— tion of form from his mother, whose pic- ture hung on the dark wall between the windows. She had died while still young, when Eric was a boy of ten. During her lifetime she had been the object of the passionate devotion of both her husband and son; and the fine, strong, sweet face of the picture was a testimony that she had been worthy of their love and rever- ence. The same face, cast in a masculine mould, was repeated in Eric; the chestnut hair grew off his forehead in the same way; his eyes were like hers, and in his grave moods they held a similar expres-

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