If she hadn't that inconceivable bonnet on her head,--yes, she is very pretty.

Her mouth is bewitching.

I declare, I believe she is beautiful," were Stephen's successive verdicts, as he drew nearer and nearer to Mercy.

Mercy was thinking of him at that very moment,--was thinking of him with a return of the annoyance and mortification which had stung her at intervals all day, whenever she recalled their interview of the previous evening.

Mercy combined, in a very singular manner, some of the traits of an impulsive nature with those of an unimpulsive one.