A girl waited at table.

On that subject Mrs.Ormonde had amusing stories to relate; how more than one servant had regretfully but firmly declined to wait upon little ragamuffins (female, too), and how one in particular had explained that she made no objection to doing it only because she regarded it as a religious penance.
Egremont had his pleasure in regarding her face, nobly beautiful as she moved her eyes from one to another of her poor little pensioners.

She had said at first that it would be impossible ever again to live in this house, when she quitted it for a time after her husband's death.
How could she pass through the barren rooms, how dwell within sight and sound of the treacherous waves which had taken her dearest?
It was a royal thought which converted the sad dwelling into a home for those whose reawakening laughter would chide despondency from beneath the roof; whose happiness would ease the heavy heart and make memory a sacred solace.

She had her abounding reward, and such as only the greatly loving may attain to.
They withdrew without having excited attention; Mrs.Mapper saw them, but Mrs.Ormonde made sign to her to say nothing.
'Two are upstairs, I'm sorry to say,' she remarked as they went back to the drawing-room.

'They have obstinate colds; I keep them under the bed-clothes.