There was a kind of film or flicker on her face, which at first he took to be the fitful firelight; but, on a second look, he saw that she was weeping.

A sad and solitary spectacle, as shown him by the rising and the falling of the fire.
It was a little window of but four pieces of glass, and was not curtained; he chose it because the larger window near it was.

It showed him the room, and the bills upon the wall respecting the drowned people starting out and receding by turns.

But he glanced slightly at them, though he looked long and steadily at her.

A deep rich piece of colour, with the brown flush of her cheek and the shining lustre of her hair, though sad and solitary, weeping by the rising and the falling of the fire.
She started up.