Her gown was of velvet; her fair neck and arms shone through the yellowing folds of an old lace scarf which veiled the bosom.

A string of pearls was twisted in her soft, brown hair, lending a dim crown to her exquisite and gracious beauty in the tender light of the wax candles.
Candlelight is kind to the victims of relentless time; disdaining to notice the little lines and shadows care has painted on tired faces; restoring delicacy to faded complexions, and brightness to sad eyes.
The faint illumination was less kind to Sarah, in her white gown and blue ribbons.

The beautiful colour, which could face the morning sunbeams triumphantly in its young transparency, was almost too high in the warmth of the shadowy hall, where her golden-red hair made a glory of its own.
The October evening seemed chilly to the aged sisters, and even Lady Mary felt the comfort of her velvet gown; but Sarah was impatient of the heat of the log fire, and longed for the open air.

She envied Peter and John, who were reported to be smoking outside on the terrace.
"The very last of the roses," said Lady Mary.
"There will be a sharp frost to-night; they won't stand that," said Sarah, shaking her head.
"The poor roses of autumn," said Lady Mary, rather dreamily, "they are never so sweet as the roses of June." "But they are much rarer, and more precious," said Sarah.
Lady Mary looked at her and smiled.

How quickly Sarah always understood! Sarah caught her hand and kissed it impulsively.