"Swallows."

But among the gay procession Clifford had only eyes for one! Walking
with that elastic step which so rarely survives the first epoch of youth,
by the side of the heavy chair in which her father was drawn, the fair
beauty of Lucy Brandon threw--at least in the eyes of her lover--a magic
and a lustre over the whole group. He stood for a moment, stilling the
heart that leaped at her bright looks and the gladness of her innocent
laugh; and then recovering himself, he walked slowly, and with a certain
consciousness of the effect of his own singularly handsome person,
towards the party. The good squire received him with his usual kindness,
and informed him, according to that _lucidus ordo_ which he so especially
favoured, of the whole particulars of their excursion. There was
something worthy of an artist's sketch in the scene at that moment: the
old squire in his chair, with his benevolent face turned towards
Clifford, and his hands resting on his cane, Clifford himself bowing down
his stately head to hear the details of the father; the beautiful
daughter on the other side of the chair, her laugh suddenly stilled, her
gait insensibly more composed, and blush chasing blush over the smooth
and peach-like loveliness of her cheek; the party, of all sizes, ages,
and attire, affording ample scope for the caricaturist; and the pensive
figure of Augustus Tomlinson (who, by the by, was exceedingly like
Liston) standing apart from the rest, on the brow of the hill where
Clifford had left him, and moralizing on the motley procession, with one
hand hid in his waistcoat, and the other caressing his chin, which slowly
and pendulously with the rest of his head moved up and down.

As the party approached the brow of the hill, the view of the city below
was so striking that there was a general pause for the purpose of survey.
One young lady in particular drew forth her pencil, and began sketching,