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She bent her head round to look in the face of the lady who had last used them, as if to assure herself what was meant; and then her head went down on Mr. Randolph's shoulder and her face was hidden. "Daisy " whispered her father. "Yes, papa." "Are you afraid?" "No, papa not for myself." "What? Look up here, Daisy." She lifted her face; it was wistful and troubled.
It is the time, when night and day, In equal scales contend for sway Lone, on her rocky steep, Lingers the girl with wistful eyes That watch the sun-steeds down the skies, Careering towards the deep. Lulled lay the smooth and silent sea, A mirror in translucent calm, The breeze, along that crystal realm, Unmurmuring, died in balm.
Judith with her glowing wistful eyes, her crimson cheeks, her dauntless courage, her vivid mind! Judith, with her loneliness, was his to guard from now on. Funny how a guy could feel so all of a sudden! Funny, if he really should love old Jude, with her fiery temper and more fiery tongue. And if this were love, love was not so comfortable a feeling, after all.
The first person I saw, whom I knew, was the Duchess of Longueville, more beautiful than when I had met her before as Mademoiselle de Bourbon, perfectly dazzling, indeed, with her majestic bearing and exquisite complexion, but the face had entirely lost that innocent, wistful expression that had so much enchanted me before.
"Wisht I could have seen Henry to say good-by to him, though," he muttered with a wistful glance at the big house across the pond where the unconscious Henry was sleeping soundly with never a thought of moonlight flittings for anyone in his curly head. Chester meant to walk to Roxbury Station ten miles away. Nobody knew him there, and he could catch the morning train.
Tennelly watched the people curiously as they went out: humble, common people, subdued, wistful, even tearful; some of them with illumined faces as if they had seen a great light in their darkness. When at last Courtland drifted down to the back of the church and reached Tennelly the two met with a look straight into each other's soul, while their hands gripped in the old brotherhood clasp.
When Marjorie Dean went down to breakfast the following morning it was with the feeling that her sharp answer to Mary's unexpected comments of the night before had been unworthy of her better self. Mary's reply, "Oh, it doesn't matter," had somehow sounded wistful rather than indifferent. To be sure, Mary had literally forced upon her the reserved stand which she had at last taken.
Or it may have been simply the way that wee Maggie held her battered doll. It may have been that the mother instinct of this wistful mite of humanity quickened in the heart of the young woman something that was deeper, more vital, more real to her womanhood than the things to which she had so far given herself.
"Do you mean that you want me to go away from this place?" I questioned. The sigh came again, just audibly. "Yes. Why should you die?" Was I wrong in fancying the sigh regretful? Did I not hear a wistful reluctance in her tone? Excitement ran along my veins like burning oil on flowing water.
There seemed to be something tranquillising in his wistful manner of repeating, "Don't cry, Flora;" and she was at last reduced, by her extreme exhaustion, to stillness; but there were still many fears for her. Dr. May's prediction was accomplished that she would suffer for having over-exerted herself.
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