Pale and sad, her expression
and manner both eloquently suggestive of suppressed suffering and
sorrow, there was an innate nobility in the carriage of this
woman's head, an innate grandeur in the gaze of her large gray
eyes and in the lines of her finely proportioned face, which made
her irresistibly striking and beautiful, seen under any
circumstances and clad in any dress. Her companion, darker in
complexion and smaller in stature, possessed attractions which
were quite marked enough to account for the surgeon's polite
anxiety to shelter her in the captain's room. The common consent
of mankind would have declared her to be an unusually pretty
woman. She wore the large gray cloak that covered her from head
to foot with a grace that lent its own attractions to a plain and
even a shabby article of dress. The languor in her movements, and
the uncertainty of tone in her voice as she thanked the surgeon
suggested that she was suffering from fatigue. Her dark eyes
searched the dimly-lighted room timidly, and she held fast by the
nurse's arm with the air of a woman whose nerves had been
severely shaken by some recent alarm.
"You have one thing to remember, ladies," said the surgeon.
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