Afterwards she remembered what a picture her youthful patient made, with the hue of renewed life creeping into her cheeks, in faint reflection of the nest of roseate colour in which she lay.
Carmel's hair was dark; so were her exquisitely pencilled eye-brows, and the long lashes which curled upward from her cheek.

In her surroundings of pink--warm pink, such as lives in the heart of the sea-shell--their duskiness took on an added beauty; and nothing, not even the long, dark scar running from eye to chin could rob the face of its individuality and suggestion of charm.

She was lovely; but it was the loveliness of line and tint, just as a child is lovely.

Soul and mind were still asleep, but momentarily rousing, as all thought, to conscious being--and, if to conscious being, then to conscious suffering as well.
It was a solemn moment.

If the man who loved her had been present--or even her brother, who, sullen as he was, must have felt the tie of close relationship rise superior even to his fears at an instant so critical,--it would have been more solemn yet.