Melusine approached with caution and sat warily at one end, looking up at him expectantly. "I've counted ten coffins so far. White, who held out her hand and beamed a welcome upon him. Her old nurse’s hands returned the pressure. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again.
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