At the bottom of her heart there was a dismal rage of passions: hatred of those who would or might look tailor in her face: terrors concerning the possible re-visitation of the vengeful Sir Abraham: dread of Evan and the efforts to despise him: the shocks of many conflicting elements.

Above it all her countenance was calmly, sadly sweet: even as you may behold some majestic lighthouse glimmering over the tumult of a midnight sea.
An unusual assemblage honoured the breakfast that morning.

The news of Mrs.Bonner's health was more favourable.

How delighted was the Countess to hear that! Mrs.Bonner was the only firm ground she stood on there, and after receiving and giving gentle salutes, she talked of Mrs.
Bonner, and her night-watch by the sick bed, in a spirit of doleful hope.

This passed off the moments till she could settle herself to study faces.