In truth, I think
almost every one had a certain awe of Madame de Florac, except children,
who came to her trustingly, and, as it were, by instinct. The habitual
melancholy of her eyes vanished as they lighted upon young faces and
infantile smiles. A sweet love beamed out of her countenance: an angelic
smile shone over her face, as she bent towards them and caressed them.
Her demeanour then, nay, her looks and ways at other times;--a certain
gracious sadness, a sympathy with all grief, and pity for all pain; a
gentle heart, yearning towards all children; and, for her own especially,
feeling a love that was almost an anguish: in the affairs of the common
world only a dignified acquiescence, as if her place was not in it, and
her thoughts were in her Home elsewhere;--these qualities, which we had
seen exemplified in another life, Laura and her husband watched in Madame
de Florac, and we loved her because she was like our mother. I see in
such women, the good and pure, the patient and faithful, the tried and
meek, the followers of Him whose earthly life was divinely sad and
tender.
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