In spite of her seventy-five years she stood erect at the side of her grand-daughter.

Her abundant hair was partly gray, but the gray mingled with the little oval of costly lace that lay upon it, and the effect was soft and fair as powdering.

She had been very handsome, and her beauty lingered as the beauty of some flowers linger, in fainter tints and in less firm outlines; for she had never fallen from that "grace of God vouchsafed to children," and therefore she had kept not only the enthusiasms of her youth, but that sweet promise of the "times of restitution" when the child shall die one hundred years old, because the child-heart shall be kept in all its freshness and trust.

Yes, in Rachel Rawdon's heart the well-springs of love and life lay too deep for the frosts of age to touch.

She would be eternally young before she grew old.
She sat down as Ethel spoke, and drew the girl to her side.