These hats cast picturesque shadows on their young faces.
Mrs.Bertram looked at them with a queer half-jealous pang.

Beatrice was the child of a lowly tradesman, Catherine the daughter of a man of family and some pretension; and yet Mrs.Bertram had to own that in any society this tall, upright, frank, young Beatrice could hold her own, that even Catherine whose dark face was patrician, who bore the refinement of race in every point, could scarcely outshine this country girl.
"It is marvellous," said Mrs.Bertram after a pause; "Beatrice is one of nature's ladies.

There are a few such, they come now and then, and no circumstances can spoil them.

To think of that girl's mother!" "One of the dearest old ladies of my acquaintance," replied Mr.Ingram.
"Beatrice owes a great deal of her nobleness of heart and singleness of purpose to her mother.

Mrs.Bertram, I have never heard that woman say an unkind word.