Certainly, she had stood by her daughter in the presence of the priest; but in her room she withdrew herself from the poor girl as if she were a spiritual leper.
Antonia at a distance watched the self-abasement of her mother.

She could not weep, but she was white as clay, and her heart was swollen with a sense of wrong and injustice, until breathing was almost suffocation.

She looked with a piteous entreaty at Isabel.

Her little sister had taken a seat at the extremity of the room away from her.

She watched Antonia with eyes full of terror.