And though she was back in an elder day, she glowed young as she talked, whether recalling official solemnities or a once-cherished gown of embroidered tulle, caught up with bunches of grapes.

The girl's mouth was her's--fresh and full, unlined by care.
It was not until she talked of later, younger days that her face took on an old look.
"When our federated states rose up in their might," was a phrase that brought the change.

Thereafter she spoke in subdued tones of a time more eventful than romantic, but still absorbing.
She remembered the words in which she felicitated General Pope Walker for having issued the order to fire on Sumter.

She gave details of the privation that Richmond on her seven hills had suffered in the latter days, and she made plain why their women should rise with their men to drink certain toasts; how they, too, had sacrificed and toiled and suffered with the same loyal tenacity.

She mentioned "the present government" casually, as the affair of a day; and spoke of "Mr.Lincoln, their Northern President," in a tone implying confidence that I shared her feeling for him.
As we went back to the drawing-room for coffee, she summed up herself to me, though she thought to sum up more than herself.
"They swept us with the besom of war, Mr.Blake, and they overwhelmed--but they could not subjugate us." As she spoke, my eyes caught for the first time a portrait that hung on the wall back of her.