Marcus had never
seen but one such complexion, and that was many years ago. He looked at
it in silent wonder, until the delicate bloom in the centre of her
cheeks began to invade the neighboring white, and the large blue eyes
drooped in confusion.
"Pardon me, my child," said Marcus, in a gentle, reassuring voice.
She looked up, much embarrassed, and said:
"Will you be so good as to walk up and see my poor father, sir? He will
be delighted to meet a friend, for he is very much in want of one, sir."
"I do not know him, my child; but I should be happy to make his
acquaintance."
The girl was surprised to learn that her father's benefactor was a
stranger to him, and looked doubtingly at him for a moment--but only a
moment--and then ran briskly up the stairs, asking him to follow.
The stairs were uncarpeted, and had little feet-worn hollows in the
middle of them. The banisters were rickety, and had been notched by the
knives of reckless tenants. The first and second floors were occupied by
different families (so Marcus inferred from the distinct set of baby
cries issuing from each), and the halls were dirty, and flavored with a
decided odor of washing day.
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