There was a curious and interesting likeness between the two,--a facial resemblance only, for Madam Talbot was a slender, rather frail little woman, and looked smaller by contrast as she walked by the side of her son, who had his arm affectionately thrown over her shoulder.
She was as straight, however, as he was himself, in spite of her years and cares, and bore herself as proudly erect as in the days of her youth.
Her black eyes looked out with undiminished lustre from beneath her snowy-white hair, which needed no powder and was covered by the mob cap she wore.

She looked every inch the lady of the manor, nor did her actions and words belie her appearance.

The subject of the conversation was evidently a serious one.

There was a troubled expression upon her face, in spite of her self-control, which was in marked contrast to the hesitating and somewhat irresolute look upon the handsome countenance of her son.
"My son, my son," she said at last, "why will you persist in approaching me upon this subject?
You know my opinions.

I have not hesitated to speak frankly, and it is not my habit to change them; in this instance they are as fixed and as immutable as the polar star.