countenance, and by her side a girl and boy, the one sickly and poorly
clad, the other with bright inquiring eyes, striving to compensate for
the want of other faculties. She was teaching them to form that
delight of childhood, a cowslip ball, the other children supplying her
with handfuls of the gold-coated flowers, and returning a pull of the
forelock or a bobbed curtsey to her smiling thanks.

Her dress was of a plain brown-holland looking material, the bonnet she
had thrown off was of the coarsest straw, but her whole air declared
her the daughter of that lordly house; and had gold and rubies been
laid before her instead of cowslips with fairy favours, they would well
have become her princely port, long neck, and stately head, crowned
with a braid of her profuse black hair. That regal look was more
remarkable in her than beauty; her brow was too high, her features not
quite regular, her complexion of gypsy darkness, but with a glow of
eyes very large, black, and deeply set, naturally grave in expression,
but just now beaming and dancing in accordance with the encouraging
smiles on her fresh, healthy, red lips, as her hands, very soft and
delicate, though of large and strong make, completed the ball, threw it
in the little boy's face, and laughed to see his ecstasy over the
delicious prize; teaching him to play with it, tossing it backwards and
forwards, shaking him into animation, and ever and anon chasing her
little dog to extract it from between his teeth.

Suddenly she became aware of the presence of a spectator, and instantly
assuming her bonnet, and drawing up her tall figure, she exclaimed, in
a tone of welcome:

'Oh, Mr. Wingfield, you are come to see our cowslip feast.'