"Yes, so it seems," and suddenly, as though by chance, she moved the candle which she held, in such fashion that the light fell full upon Owen Davies' face.

It was a slow heavy countenance, but not without comeliness.

The skin was fresh as a child's, the eyes were large, blue, and mild, and the brown hair grew in waves that many a woman might have envied.

Indeed had it not been for a short but strongly growing beard, it would have been easy to believe that the countenance was that of a boy of nineteen rather than of a man over thirty.

Neither time nor care had drawn a single line upon it; it told of perfect and robust health and yet bore the bloom of childhood.