Simple as the new arrangement was, it could hardly have been more effective.
But the looking-glass got no smile in return for its information.
Catherine Leyburn was young; she was alone; she was being very plainly told that, taken as a whole, she was, or might be at any moment, a beautiful woman.

And all her answer was a frown and a quick movement away from the glass.

Putting up her hands she began to undo the plaits with haste, almost with impatience; she smoothed the whole mass then set free into the severest order, plaited it closely together, and then, putting out her light, threw herself on her knees beside the window, which was partly open to the starlight and the mountains.

The voice of the river far away, wafted from the mist-covered depths of the valley, and the faint rustling of the trees just outside, were for long after the only sounds which broke the silence.
When Catherine appeared at breakfast next morning her hair was plainly gathered into a close knot behind, which had been her way of dressing it since she was thirteen.

Agnes threw a quick look at Rose; Mrs.Leyburn, as soon as she had made out through her spectacles what was the matter, broke into warm expostulations.
'It is more comfortable, dear mother, and takes much less time,' said Catherine, reddening.
'Poor Mrs.Thornburgh!' remarked Agnes dryly.
'Oh, Rose will make up!' said Catherine, glancing, not without a spark of mischief in her gray eyes, at Rose's tortured locks; 'and mamma's new cap, which will be superb!'.