Pale as she was, her face preserved its fine outline; her features had not lost their grace and symmetry of form.

Presenting the appearance of a woman who had suffered acutely, she would have been more than ever (in the eyes of some men) a woman to be admired and loved.
"I seldom sleep well now," she answered, patiently.
"You don't give yourself a chance," Mrs.Presty remonstrated.

"Here's a fine morning--come out for a sail on the lake.

To-morrow there's a concert in the town--let's take tickets.

There's a want of what I call elastic power in your mind, Catherine--the very quality for which your father was so remarkable; the very quality which Mr.Presty used to say made him envy Mr.Norman.Look at your dress! Where's the common-sense, at your age, of wearing nothing but black?
Nobody's dead who belongs to us, and yet you do your best to look as if you were in mourning." "I have no heart, mamma, to wear colors." Mrs.Presty considered this reply to be unworthy of notice.