CH. IX.] Little yack, the Cripple. 157 



suppose because it was so different to any 

 other young face I had ever seen, and so 

 different to what one might expect to find 

 amid the surroundings of a fisherman's 

 cottage. 



It was a dark, delicate, oval face, like a 

 girl's, with finely cut features, and a com- 

 plexion as fair as the petals of an apple 

 blossom ; but it was his great brown eyes 

 and long eyelashes, black as night, that held 

 the attention, together with a look of deep 

 patient suffering, mingled with gentleness 

 and love that lit all up, and filled even the 

 heart of a rough old rat-catcher like me with 

 a feeling of deep pity and an intense desire 

 to protect and befriend a small creature 

 who looked too fragile, too beautiful, and 

 too good for this old work-a-day world of 

 ours, and as if he were only tarrying for a 

 short while before going to his eternal 

 home, where his features will be beautified 



