Mrs.De Peyster saw a dark, piquant face, with features not regular, but ever in motion and quick with expression--eyes of a deep, deep brown, with a glimmer of red in them, eyes that gave out an ever-changing sparkle of sympathy and mischief and intelligence--and a mass of soft dark hair, most unstylishly, most charmingly arranged, that caught some of the muffled light and softly glowed with a reddish tone.

If there was anything vulgar, or commonplace, about Jack's wife, the shaded bulb was too kindly disposed to betray it to Mrs.De Peyster's scrutiny.
Suddenly Mary laughed--softly, musically.
"If Jack's mother ever dreamed what Jack and I are doing here! Oh--oh! Some day, after she's forgiven us--if ever she does forgive us--You've said you're sure she'll forgive us, Matilda; do you honestly, truly, cross-your-heartly, believe she will ?" "Y-e-s," said Mrs.De Peyster's numb lips.
"I do hope so, for Jack's sake!" sighed the little person.

"After she forgives us, I'm going to 'fess up everything.

Of course she'll be scandalized--for what we're doing is simply awful!--but all the same I'll tell her.

And after she's forgiven us, I'll make her forgive you, too, Matilda, for your part in harboring us here.