Rachel’s face was of the purest type of beauty, combining the physical, intellectual, and spiritual. Her form was of medium height and perfect grace; her head was finely shaped, and covered with dark brown hair, parted in the middle and carried over the temples, and arranged in a knot behind; her forehead broad and full; her eyebrows were gently arched, her eyes dark luminous gray, with drooping lids and long fringes; her nose small and straight, her lips full, small, and plump, and her chin was round and well set. There were some flaws in this otherwise perfect beauty and grace of form and face; for her complexion was very pale, her expression pensive, and her walk slightly limping.
While Sybil was observing her with both admiration and pity, and wondering whether she did not suffer from some hereditary malady that had carried off her mother and all her sisters and brothers, Rachel spoke:
“I think you have everything here that you require; but if you should need anything else, please call, and I will come and attend to your wants.”
“Thanks!” answered Sybil, sweetly, forgetting her assumed character, and beginning to speak in her natural voice, for it seemed so difficult to act a part in the presence of this girl.
But Lyon set his coarse boot upon Sybil’s foot, and pressed it as a warning, and then answered for both, saying:
“Thank y’, honey, but I don’t reckon we’ll want anything but our supper, and the old man said how he’d send that up here himself.”
“Then I will leave you. Good night. I hope you will have a good sleep,” answered Rachel, bending her head.
“What a fine face that girl has,” said Lyon Berners, as she withdrew.
“Yes; and what a sweet voice!” answered Sybil.
“But she is very pale, and she limps as she walks; did you notice?”