White never became her, and her face was pale, though her eyes were splendid.

But nobody thought about her appearance when the power and magic of her voice caught and held her listeners spellbound.
Her recitation was an old one, figuring in one of the School Readers, and we scholars all knew it off by heart.

Sara Ray alone had not heard the Story Girl recite it.

The latter had not been drilled at practices as had the other pupils, Mr.Perkins choosing not to waste time teaching her what she already knew far better than he did.

The only time she had recited it had been at the "dress rehearsal" two nights before, at which Sara Ray had not been present.
In the poem a Florentine lady of old time, wedded to a cold and cruel husband, had died, or was supposed to have died, and had been carried to "the rich, the beautiful, the dreadful tomb" of her proud family.