Her woman was upon her knees before a coffer in which she was laying the weeds as she folded them.
Mistress Anne paused within the doorway, her eyes dazzled by the tall radiant shape and blot of scarlet colour as if by the shining of the sun.
She knew in that moment that all was changed, and that the world of darkness they had been living in for the past months was swept from existence.

When her sister had worn her mourning weeds she had seemed somehow almost pale; but now she stood in the sunlight with the rich scarlet on her cheek and lip, and the stars in her great eyes.
"Come in, sister Anne," she said.

"I lay aside my weeds, and my woman is folding them away for me.

Dost know of any poor creature newly left a widow whom some of them would be a help to?
'Tis a pity that so much sombreness should lie in chests when there are perhaps poor souls to whom it would be a godsend." Before the day was over, there was not a shred of black stuff left in sight; such as had not been sent out of the house to be distributed, being packed away in coffers in the garrets under the leads.
"You will wear it no more, sister ?" Anne asked once.

"You will wear gay colours--as if it had never been ?" "It _is_ as if it had never been," Clorinda answered.