There was infinite relief in this tender natural outlet; she seemed to recover possession of herself.
Mrs.Boyce bore the kiss quietly.

Her face was a little pinched and white.

But the unusual display Deacon had been allowed to make of her pale golden hair, still long and abundant; the unveiling of the shapely shoulders and neck, little less beautiful than her daughter's; the elegant lines of the velvet dress, all these things, had very nobly transformed her.

Marcella could not restrain her admiration and delight.
Mrs.Boyce winced, and, looking upward to the gallery, which ran round the hall, called Deacon impatiently.
"Only, mamma," said Marcella, discontentedly, "I don't like that little chain round your neck.

It is not equal to the rest, not worthy of it." "I have nothing else, my dear," said Mrs.Boyce, drily.