Something had given Catherine more color than usual, and as Mrs.Leyburn shook hands with the young clergyman her mother's eyes turned approvingly to her eldest daughter.
'After all she is as handsome as Rose,' she said to herself-'though it _is_ quite a different style.' Rose, who was always tea-maker, dispensed her wares; Catherine took her favorite low seat beside her mother, clasping Mrs.Leyburn's thin mittened hand a while tenderly in her own; Robert and Agnes set up a lively gossip on the subject of the Thornburghs' guests, in which Rose joined, while Catherine looked smiling on.

She seemed apart from the rest, Robert thought; not, clearly, by her own will, but by virtue of a difference of temperament which could not but make itself felt.

Yet once as Rose passed her Robert saw her stretch out her hand and touch her sister caressingly, with a bright upward look and smile, as though she would say, 'Is all well?
have you had a good time this afternoon, Roeschen ?' Clearly, the strong contemplative nature was not strong enough to dispense with any of the little wants and cravings of human affection.

Compared to the main impression she was making on him, her suppliant attitude at her mother's feet and her caress of her sister were like flowers breaking through the stern March soil and changing the whole spirit of the fields.
Presently he said something of Oxford, and mentioned, Merton.

Instantly Mrs.Leyburn fell upon him.