had been rough, blunt in her speech, and dirty in her person.
Her face would always have reminded one who had already been to the back
of the north wind of something he had seen in the best of company,
but it had been coarse notwithstanding, partly from the weather,
partly from her living amongst low people, and partly from having
to defend herself: now it was so sweet, and gentle, and refined,
that she might have had a lady and gentleman for a father and mother.
And Diamond could not help thinking of words which he had heard
in the church the day before: "Surely it is good to be afflicted;"
or something like that. North Wind, somehow or other, must have
had to do with her! She had grown from a rough girl into a gentle
maiden.

Mr. Raymond, however, was not surprised, for he was used to see
such lovely changes--something like the change which passes upon
the crawling, many-footed creature, when it turns sick and ill,
and revives a butterfly, with two wings instead of many feet.
Instead of her having to take care of herself, kind hands ministered
to her, making her comfortable and sweet and clean, soothing her
aching head, and giving her cooling drink when she was thirsty;
and kind eyes, the stars of the kingdom of heaven, had shone upon her;
so that, what with the fire of the fever and the dew of tenderness,
that which was coarse in her had melted away, and her whole face
had grown so refined and sweet that Diamond did not know her. But as
he gazed, the best of the old face, all the true and good part of it,
that which was Nanny herself, dawned upon him, like the moon coming
out of a cloud, until at length, instead of only believing Mr. Raymond
that this was she, he saw for himself that it was Nanny indeed--
very worn but grown beautiful.