features--"thoroughly Scotch features," they would have been called
by those who think all Scotchwomen are necessarily big, raw-boned,
and ugly; and have never seen that wonderfully noble beauty--not
prettiness, but actual beauty in its highest physical as well as
spiritual development--which is not seldom found across the Tweed.

But while there was nothing lovely, there was nothing unpleasant or
uncomely in Miss Balquidder. Her large figure, in its plain black
silk dress; her neat white cap, from under which peeped the little
round curls of flaxen hair, neither gray nor snowy, but real
"lint-white locks" still; and her good-humored, motherly
look--motherly rather than old-maidish--gave an impression which may
be best described by the word "comfortable."--She was a "comfortable"
woman. She had that quality--too rarely, alas! in all people, and
rarest in women going solitary down the hill of life--of being able,
out of the deep content of her own nature, to make other people the
same.

Hilary was cheered in spite of herself: it always conveys hope to the
young, when in sore trouble, if they see the old looking happy.

"Welcome, my dear! I was afraid you had forgotten your promise."

"Oh no," said Hilary, responding heartily to the hearty clasp of a
hand large as a man's, but soft as a woman's.

"Why did you not come sooner?"

More than one possible excuse flashed thro' Hilary's mind, but she
was too honest to give it. She gave none at all. Nor did she like to