I don't know what stuff her gowns were made of, whether of stiff silk, or satin, or brocade, but they seemed to sweep the floor, and lift, and sweep again; and whether it was the gown itself that floated, or she wearing it and moving forward with such grace, but the library, that had seemed so dark and austere before she entered, would be suddenly alive. A new softness came to her by candlelight that was not with her in the day. [...] now, with the evening closing in, the shutters fastened, the weather banished, and the house withdrawn into itself, she shone with a radiance that had laid concealed about her person until now.