The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. " "Well, it's mighty fine of you to break your journey in this fashion—for someone you don't know, a passer-by. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair.
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