Then self-reproach leapt, and possessed her.

She quickened her pace, hurrying into the hall, as though from something she was ashamed or afraid of.
In the hall a new sensation awaited her.

Her mother, fully dressed, stood waiting by the old billiard-table for her maid, who had gone to fetch her a cloak.
Marcella stopped an instant in surprise and delight, then ran up to her.
"Mamma, how _lovely_ you look! I haven't seen you like that, not since I was a child.

I remember you then once, in a low dress, a white dress, with flowers, coming into the nursery.

But that black becomes you so well, and Deacon has done your hair beautifully!" She took her mother's hand and kissed her cheek, touched by an emotion which had many roots.