In Chapter 7, Sybylla grapples with her perception of her own physical appearance, using a powerful and hyperbolic simile and dramatic tactile imagery to convey her feelings of self-disappointment and pain:
But I was plain. Ah, bosh! Oh! Ah! I cannot express what kind of a feeling that fact gave me. It sank into my heart and cut like a cruel, jagged knife [...] Certainly I had never striven to be lovable. But see the love some have lavished upon them without striving for it! Why was I ugly and nasty and miserable and useless—without a place in the world?
In this passage, Sybylla describes her realization of her “plain” looks using a simile. This realization is like a "cruel jagged knife" that cuts into her heart, a strikingly violent tactile image that emphasizes the depth of her distress. Franklin's use of tactile imagery —the sensation of stabbing, the feeling of something sinking into Sybylla’s heart—adds to the intensity of the simile and allows readers to viscerally experience Sybylla's emotional turmoil. This strong, intense imagery provokes feelings of empathy in the reader, as they can almost physically feel Sybylla's pain.
The use of hyperbole in this context underpins the intensity of Sybylla's teenage angst. The actual events here are not that dramatic. Sybylla is worried she isn’t attractive, and finds it unfair that some people are. Phrases such as "sank into my heart" contribute to the passage’s tone of almost silly melodrama, capturing the heightened emotions characteristic of youth and adolescence. The list of critical adjectives Franklin then gives the reader—“ugly and nasty and miserable and useless”—also contributes to this petulant tone.
It’s important to note, though, that although this language is exaggerated, the society in which Franklin sets her novel valued conventional female beauty extremely highly. A lack of attractiveness could truly prove disastrous for a young woman without financial independence. As it was difficult for women to find paid work, many could only support themselves through marriage. In this passage, the author provides an insight into the societal pressures faced by young women like Sybylla during this time. She is worried her looks will ruin her chances of security, as well as her chance at happiness.
In Chapter 12, Franklin uses simile and visual imagery to highlight Uncle Julius's imposing figure and distinct style. Sybylla knows that her uncle is about to make his grand entrance at a Caddagat evening affair. She's pretty sure his clothes will be very different from the "sparrow-tailed affairs" of other men:
Uncle Julius had the upper part of his ponderous figure arrayed in a frock coat. He did not take kindly to what he termed “those skittish sparrow-tailed affairs.” Frock coats suited him, but I am not partial to them on everyone. They look well enough on a podgy, fat, or broad man, but on a skinny one they hang with such a forlorn, dying-duck expression, that they invariably make me laugh.
The description of Uncle Julius's attire uses a simile to compare the appearance of frock coats on thin men to "forlorn, dying-duck" feathers. Franklin expands on this visual imagery to emphasize the difference between the unappealing appearance of evening-coats on thin men, and the effects of these bold, swaggering fashion choices on Uncle Julius. This simile of a dying duck doesn't only brings a comical sight to mind for the reader. It also emphasizes Uncle Julius's bulk and strength. He's "broad" when compared to other, smaller men. He is so big and robust that the frock coat, which can appear "forlorn" on thinner men, becomes fitting and elegant on his frame. This contrast underlines his dominant, overbearing presence in the room. The imagery enhances the reader’s understanding of both Uncle Julius's imposing size and the significance of his appearance in Sybylla's eyes. Unlike the "sparrow-tailed affairs" of other men, Julius's evening clothes are an assertive, proud display.
In Chapter 10, Franklin employs personification, similes of wind and weather, and auditory imagery to infuse the landscape of Caddagat with a sense of melancholy and regret. This also foreshadows Sybylla’s later grief and longing for her life there. Sybylla tells the reader that almost every night at her grandmother's house:
Aunt Helen would sing in her sweet, sad voice all the beautiful old songs I loved, while I curled myself on a mat at her side and read books—the music often compelling me to forget the reading, and the reading occasionally rendering me deaf to the music; but through both ever came the solemn rush of the stream outside in its weird melancholy, like a wind ceaselessly endeavoring to outstrip a wild vain regret which relentlessly pursued.
The constant sound of the stream is described in this passage as having a "weird melancholy," almost as if it's sad itself. Because the stream isn’t alive, the “solemn rush” of the sound of its passing seems almost supernatural in its intensity. The auditory imagery Franklin uses here is both appealing and creepy, making the scene seem unreal. Sybylla herself seems to waver between deafness and hearing, as the music and her reading interrupt one another. Though the scene is not a noisy one, its description is packed with conflicting sounds.
The stream's continuous flow is also compared to a "wind ceaselessly endeavoring to outstrip a wild vain regret which relentlessly pursued." This simile, featuring personification of the wind, makes the setting and the sound of the stream seem even more regretful and sorrowful. It also foreshadows the “wild vain hope” of returning to Caddagat that the older Sybylla will feel. It's not just Sybylla who's feeling regret and loss; the landscape of Caddagat seems to feel it, too.
In Chapter 10, Franklin uses the metaphor of a wild beast, and similes of monsters and monstrous behaviour, to convey some hints about Harry Beecham’s "real" character. Uncle Julius tells Sybylla to be careful with her flirtations, as:
He’s a fellow with a will like iron, and that is what you want, as I find you have none of your own. But be careful of Harry Beecham in a temper. He is like a raging lion, and when his temper dies away is a sulking brute, which is the vilest of all tempers. But he is not vindictive, and is easy managed, if you don’t mind giving in and coaxing a little.
Franklin’s first simile establishes that Beecham is a man "with a will like iron." The unbending strength of iron describes Beecham's will, implying the rigidity of his character. This comparison underscores his firm resolve and determination, qualities Uncle Julius cheekily tells Sybylla she has “none of.”
Franklin's next simile likens Beecham's character to a "raging lion” when he is in a temper, evoking an unnerving sense of dangerous, untamed power. This simile is quickly followed by a metaphor: Beecham is a "sulking brute" when his anger subsides, but he can be “managed” if Sybylla will “coax” him. In describing him as this combination of animal and monster, Franklin gives the reader a comprehensive image of Beecham's mood swings and his potentially volatile nature. These descriptions all flesh out his character from an outside perspective for Sybylla. He is as changeable as she is, as capable of being a "raging lion" as he is of being a "sulking brute."
In Chapter 20, Franklin employs a simile invoking fabrics, as well as lots of visual imagery, to shed light on Sybylla's feelings of insignificance at the grand Yabtree ball:
She was a big, handsome woman. Beside her, I in my crushed white muslin dress was as overshadowed as a little white handkerchief would be in comparison to a gorgeous shawl heavily wrought in silks and velvet. She was given the best seat as though she were a princess.
Franklin's similes in this passage cast Sybylla as a "little white handkerchief" in the shadow of Miss Blanche Derrick. This other young woman is likened to a "gorgeous shawl heavily wrought in silks and velvet." This comparison underlines Sybylla's feelings of smallness and obscurity next to the grander and bigger lady. Sybylla is still very self-conscious and insecure at this point in the novel. The similes in this passage point to her tendency to compare herself negatively to others.
The visual imagery of this passage, which juxtaposes the "crushed white muslin dress" and "gorgeous shawl heavily wrought in silks and velvet," further accentuates the contrast between the two women. Sybylla feels that there is something inferior in the very fabric of her being. Compared to Miss Derrick, who is “gorgeous” and “wrought in silks,” she feels like a “crushed” handkerchief in her plain white frock. The fact that Miss Derrick is given the "best seat as though she were a princess" speaks to the reality of the social disparities Sybylla faces: it's not just in her head. She feels—and is—overshadowed in settings like this. By emphasizing her unease in socially hierarchical settings such as the Yabtree ball, Franklin evokes Sybylla’s youthful clumsiness for the reader.