She was much younger than I had supposed, not more than sixteen; but if I had been mistaken in her age, I had not over-estimated her beauty. Her hair was really the same rich amber-colour that had awakened my admiration; her forehead was broad and low; her eyes between hazel and gray, with clear, well-marked brows; her nose straight and regular; and her mouth, though not small, was beautifully shaped, with the least droop at the corners, which made her expression winsome in the extreme. Her face was a little angular as yet, but the lines were good, and her slightly pointed chin was broken by the merest shadow of a dimple. She was taller than most women, and if her figure had not rounded out to its full proportion, her bearing was noble and her carriage graceful. Difficult as it is for me to give even this cold inventory of her charms, the sweet witchery of her manner, the fall of her voice, the winning grace that shone in her every look, are beyond my poor powers of description. I felt them to my very heart, which lay in surrender at her feet long before I realized it was even in danger. Our friendship began without the usual preliminaries of acquaintance. My sacrifices in the Prince's cause were known to her through Lady Jane; indeed, when I saw her noble enthusiasm, it fired me till I half forgot my disappointments, and was once more so fierce a Jacobite that I satisfied even her sweeping enthusiasm. If anything further was needed to heighten our mutual interest, it was forthcoming in the discovery that I had been aide-de-camp to Lord George Murray, whom she rightly enough regarded as the mainspring of the enterprise, and to whom she may, in Highland fashion, have been in some degree akin. Naught would satisfy her but that I should tell the story of my adventures, should describe the Prince a thousand times--which I did with every variation I could think of to engage her admiration--should relate every incident and conversation with Lord George, which I did the more willingly that I loved him from my heart, and it required but little effort to speak of a man who had played his part so gallantly. With Lady Jane as moved as Margaret herself, we sat till late, and, like Othello, I told to the most sympathising ears in the world the story of my life. They forgot the hour, the place, and all but the moving recital; and I saw only the glistening eyes, sometimes wide with horror, sometimes welling over with tears, and sometimes sparkling with humour, until, like the Moor, I could almost persuade myself that "She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd, And I lov'd her that she did pity them."