if invoking supernatural aid.

But here he was interrupted by a gentle voice which said:

"Nay, nay, Nowell, ye shall not curse your son," and a soft hand was laid
on his upraised arm.

The McAllister paused and turned towards the speaker, a gentler
expression coming over his stern face, for Lady Jean had the greatest
influence over her husband, an influence which was always for good.

She was a tall, slightly built woman of some fifty-eight years of age.
Her hair was snow-white, contrasting admirably with her clear complexion
and dark eyes, and was combed back high above her forehead, and
surmounted by a mutch (cap) of finest lace. She was dressed in a gown
of pale green silk, which trailed in soft folds behind her and made a
rustling noise as she walked.

A most distinguished lady was Jean McAllister, for the blood of the
Stuarts ran in her veins.

Her face was beautiful, though not altogether with the beauty of correct
features, and certainly not with the beauty of youth, but it had in it
that indescribable loveliness, which one sees only in the faces of very
good women. It was what might be called a helpful face, and had upon it
that reflection of a divine light--all sympathetic natures possess, to
some degree.

"No angel, but a dearer being all dipt in angel instincts,
breathing Paradise."