The hand in which he took mine was so white, so delicately moulded, it looked as if it might have belonged to a woman,--but he was a student, the heir of wealth, not the son of labor, the inheritor of the primeval curse.

It is a trifle to mention,--the hand of an intellectual man,--but I had been so accustomed to the large, muscular fingers of Mr.Regulus, which seemed formed to wield the weapon of authority, that I could not but notice the contrast.
How pleasantly, how delightfully the evening passed away! I sat in my favorite recess, half shaded by the light drapery of the window; while Ernest took a seat at his mother's side, and Edith occupied a low ottoman at his feet.

One arm was thrown across his lap, and her eyes were lifted to his face with an expression of the most idolizing affection.

And all the while he was talking, his hand passed caressingly over her fair flaxen hair, or lingered amidst its glistering ringlets.
It was a beautiful picture of sisterly and fraternal love,--the fairest I had ever seen.

The fairest! it was the first, the only one.