Hers was a fine face, in some of the finest indications.

It had not, probably it never had, the extreme physical beauty of her first-born, nor the mark of intellect that was upon the features of the second.
But there was the unmistakable writing of calm good sense, a patient and possessed mind, a strong power for the right, whether doing or suffering, a pure spirit; and that nameless beauty, earthly and unearthly, which looks out of the eyes of a mother; a beauty like which there is none.

But more; toil's work, and care's, were there, very plain, on the figure and on the face, and on the countenance too; he could not overlook it; work that years had not had time to do, nor sorrow permission.

His heart smote him.
"Mamma," he said, "you have left out the hardest difficulty of all.

-- How can I go and leave you and papa without me ?" "How can you?
My child, I can bear to do without you in this world, if it is to be for your good or happiness.