Her brown hair would have broken loose, and perhaps tangled itself over her white face.

Would her eyes be open and glazed, or half shut?
And her childish smile, the smile that looked so odd on the face of a full-grown woman, would it have been fixed and seemed to confront the world of life with a meek question as to what she had done to people--why she had been drowned?
Hester felt sure that was what her helpless stillness would have expressed.
How happy the woman had been! To see her go about with her unconsciously joyous eyes had sometimes been maddening.

And yet, poor thing! why had she not the right to be happy?
She was always trying to please people and help them.

She was so good that she was almost silly.

The day she had brought the little things from London to The Kennel Farm, Hester remembered that, despite her own morbid resentment, she had ended by kissing her with repentant tears.