And for that second Tristram dropped his lady's hand as though it had burnt him, and then, recollecting himself, picked it up again.

They were both pale with excitement and emotion, when they finally reached the hall-door in the ugly, modern Gothic wing and were again greeted by all the household servants in rows, two of them old and gray-haired, who had stayed on to care for things when the house had been shut up.

There was Michelham back at his master's old home, only promoted to be groom of the chambers, now, with a smart younger butler under him.
Tristram was a magnificent orderer, and knew exactly how things ought to be done.
And the stately housekeeper, in her black silk, stepped forward, and in the name of herself and her subordinates, bade the new mistress welcome, and hoping she was not fatigued, presented her with a bouquet of white roses.

"Because his lordship told us all, when he was here making the arrangements, that your ladyship was as beautiful as a white rose!" And tears welled up in Zara's eyes and her voice trembled, as she thanked them and tried to smile.
"She was quite overcome, the lovely young lady," they told one another afterwards, "and no wonder.

Any woman would be mad after his lordship.
It is quite to be understood." How they all loved him, the poor bride thought, and he had told them she was a beautiful white rose.