On the table beside the bed was a pile of well-worn books--Keble, Jeremy Taylor, the Bible--connected in the mind of the mistress of the room with the intensest moments of the spiritual life.

There was a strip of carpet by the bed, a plain chair or two, a large press; otherwise no furniture that was not absolutely necessary, and no ornaments.

And yet, for all its emptiness, the little room in its order and spotlessness had the look and spell of a sanctuary.
When her task was finished Catherine came forward to the infinitesimal dressing-table, and stood a moment before the common cottage looking-glass upon it.

The candle behind her showed her the outlines of her head and face in shadow against the white ceiling.

Her soft brown hair was plaited high above the broad white brow, giving to it an added stateliness, while it left unmasked the pure lines of the neck.
Mrs.Thornburgh and her mother were quite right.