All these various traits and liberalisms had made her very dear to Madeleine Verrier.
Now, as that lady sat in her usual drooping attitude, wondering what Washington would be like for her when even Daphne Floyd was gone from it, the afternoon sun stole through the curtains of the window on the street and touched some of the furniture and engravings in the inner drawing-room.

Suddenly Mrs.Verrier started in her chair.

A face had emerged thrown out upon the shadows by the sun-finger--the countenance of a handsome young Jew, as Rembrandt had once conceived it.

Rare and high intelligence, melancholy, and premonition:--they were there embodied, so long as the apparition lasted.
The effect on Mrs.Verrier was apparently profound.

She closed her eyes; her lips quivered; she leaned back feebly in her chair, breathing a name.