Come and look at yourself in the pond.
Here, where there are no weeds.

Come." She obeyed, and could not help seeing her own loveliness; it gave her a sense of satisfaction for an instant, as the sight of any other beautiful object would have done, but she never thought of associating it with herself.

She knew that she was beautiful; but that seemed abstract, and removed from herself.

Her existence was in feeling, and thinking, and loving.
Down in that green hollow they were quite in harmony.

Her beauty was all that Mr Bellingham cared for, and it was supreme.