265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. His clothes had evidently seen some service, and were plentifully begrimed with the dust of the workshop. ‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. “Who on earth did you study violin with?” Michelle jumped in. Jonathan, however, was nowhere to be seen. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness.
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