From the first moment her person had been known to her until the present, she had never seen her look half so beautiful.

She literally lay stretched upon a little straw, with no other pillow than a sod of earth under that rich and glowing cheek, while her raven hair had fallen down, and added to the milk-white purity of her shining neck and bosom.
"Father of Mercy!" exclaimed Mave, mentally, "how will she live--how can she live here?
An' what will become of her?
Is she to die in this miserable way in a Christian land ?" Sarah lay groaning with pain, and starting from time to time with the pangs of its feverish inflictions.

Mave spoke not when she entered the shed, being ignorant whether Sarah was asleep or awake; but a very few moments soon satisfied her that the unhappy and deserted girl was under the influence of delirium.
"I won't break my promise, father, but I'll break my heart; an' I can't even give her warnin'.

Ah! but it's threacherous--an' I hate that.

No, no--I'll have no hand in it--manage it your own way--it's threacherous.
She has crossed my happiness,you say--ay, an' there you're right--so she has--only for her I might--amn't I as handsome, you say, an' as well shaped--haven't I as white a skin ?--as beautiful hair, an' as good eyes ?--people say betther--an' if I have, wouldn't he come to love me in time ?--only for her--or if there wasn't that bar put between us.