But I found the woman up and dressed up slick, or as slick as she could be with sech old clothes on.
And I liked her the minute I laid eyes on her.
Her face, though not over than above handsome, wuz sweet-lookin’, the sweetness a-shinin’ out through her big, sad eyes, like the light in the western skies a-shinin’ out through a rift in heavy clouds.
Very pale complected she wuz, though I couldn’t tell whether the paleness wuz caused by trouble, or whether she wuz made so. And the same with her delicate little figger. I didn’t know whether that frajile appearance wuz nateral, or whether Grief had tackled her with his cold, heavy chisel, and had wasted the little figger until it looked more like a child’s than a woman’s.
And in her pretty brown hair, that kinder waved round her white forward, wuz a good many white threads.
Of course I couldn’t tell but what white hair run through her family—it duz in some. And I had hearn it said that white hair in the young wuz a sign of early piety, and of course I couldn’t set up aginst that idee in my mind.
But them white hairs over her pale young face looked to me as if they wuz made by Sorrow’s frosty hand, that had rested down too heavy on her young head.
She met me with a sweet smile, but a dretful sad one, too, when Miss Ikey introduced me.
She met me with a sweet smile.