All communication between us, in spite of our ardent and ungovernable passion, had been so casual and so slight.
Looks, a whispered word or so, one furtive clasp in which our hands seemed to grow together, were all I had to go upon as tests of her feeling towards me.

Her character I had judged from her face, which was lovely.

But faces deceive, and the loveliness of youth is not like the loveliness of age--an absolute mirror of the soul within.

Was not Medusa captivating, for all her snaky locks?
Hide those locks and one might have thought her a Daphne.
What would relieve my doubts?
As Hexford drew near me again on our way to the head of the staircase, I summoned up courage to ask: "Have you heard anything from the Hill?
Has the news of this tragedy been communicated to Miss Cumberland's family, and if so, how are they bearing this affliction ?" His lip curled, and for a minute he hesitated; then something in my aspect or the straight-forward look I gave him, softened him and he answered frankly, if coldly: "Word has gone there, of course, but only the servants are affected by it so far.

Miss Cumberland, the younger, is very ill, and the boy--I don't know his name--has not shown up since last evening.