grief-stricken

The doctor came every day, felt her pulse, looked at her tongue, and regardless of her grief-stricken face joked with her.

Four days later the grief-stricken mother herself went to the spring for water.

Yet Kwaque bore no grudge against Michael, and was himself so interested in his lord's welfare and comfort--this lord who had saved his life that terrible day on King William Island from the two grief-stricken pig-owners--that he cherished Michael for his lord's sake.

Seeing Pinocchio so grief-stricken, she asked him anxiously:

When the old woman had told him of the child's death she had also added that the white woman, though grief-stricken, had confided to her that the baby was not hers.

As he looked back at her, rough-coated and grief-stricken, he could see Terrence hovering solicitously near her.

But she rose at the command of the men with partisans, and walked with a tolerably firm step, preceded by Charmolue and the priests of the officiality, between two rows of halberds, towards a medium-sized door which suddenly opened and closed again behind her, and which produced upon the grief-stricken Gringoire the effect of a horrible mouth which had just devoured her.

It was long after dark ere they reached the cabin, and a sad and grief-stricken party it was that sat silently within the little structure.

His looks frightened the ambassador, who after looking guiltily for a little time at the grief-stricken man, hurried away without another word.

I started round to catch in my arms a half-fainting, grief-stricken form, shaken with sobs that it broke my heart to hear.

The noise of the rifle shots brought the balance of the apes to a wondering pause, and, taking advantage of their momentary distraction, Achmet Zek and his fellows leaped to their horses' backs and galloped away with the now hopeless and grief-stricken woman.

At last, finding no other pretext for deferring the torture that she was to inflict on Clifford,--her reluctance to which was the true cause of her loitering at the window, her search for the artist, and even her abortive prayer,--dreading, also, to hear the stern voice of Judge Pyncheon from below stairs, chiding her delay,--she crept slowly, a pale, grief-stricken figure, a dismal shape of woman, with almost torpid limbs, slowly to her brother's door, and knocked!