His features, however, were not at all such as could be
termed handsome; so far from that, they were rude and stern, but not
without a wild and disagreeable dignity. His eyes were at all times
fierce and fiery, and gave unequivocal indications of a fierce and fiery
spirit. He wore a pair of rude pantaloons that fitted closely to his
finely made limbs, a short jacket or Wyliecoat that also fitted closely
to his body, over which he wore the usual cloak of that day, which was
bound about his middle with a belt and buckle, in which was stuck a
middogue, or, as it ought to be written, _meadoige_, and pronounced
_maddogay_. He wore a kind of cap or _barrad_, which, as well as his
cloak, could, by being turned inside out, instantly change his whole
appearance, and mislead his pursuers--for he was the outlaw. Such was
the startling individual who now approached her, and at whose fierce
aspect she trembled--not less from her knowledge of the natural violence
of his character than from a consciousness of her interview with
Woodward.
"Well, Granua (Grace)," said he, quickly and with some vehemence, "where
have you been?"
"At the well," she replied; "have you eyes in your head? Don't you see
my pitcher?"
"I do; but what kept you there so long? and why is your voice tremblin',
as if you wor afeard, or did something wrong? Why is your face pale,
too?--it's not often so.
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