Her sorrow was not of the kind which so relieves itself.
She had come down early, in order to spend some time in the room before Wilfrid's arrival.

She sat in her father's chair, once more in the attitude of motionless brooding.

But her countenance was not as self-controlled as during the past days; emotions, struggles, at work within her found their outward expression.

At times she breathed quickly, as if in pain; often her eyes closed.

In her worn face, the features marked themselves with strong significance; it was beauty of a kind only to be felt by a soul in sympathy with her own.