My hands were encased with black half-mittens worked with steel beads; on my feet were large pattens, originally the property of my deceased grandmother.

I carried a blue cotton umbrella.

As I passed before a mirror, I could not help glancing at it, nor could I disguise from myself the fact that I was not handsome.
Drawing a chair into a recess, I sat down with folded hands, calmly awaiting the arrival of my master.

Once or twice a fearful yell rang through the house, or the rattling of chains, and curses uttered in a deep, manly voice, broke upon the oppressive stillness.

I began to feel my soul rising with the emergency of the moment.
"You look alarmed, miss.