Having no clue to its reality, she had always supposed it to be a dream; but now as it came back with some degree of vividness, she saw plainly the face which was neither that of the likeness nor that of her assailant, but might well be a link between the two--the same face in transition.
The idea was too horrible.

She rose, and tried by hurried dressing to drive it from her mind; but it returned persistently.

She went, at last, to her looking-glass and looked into it with a terror of herself.

Never was ugliness so hateful as the beauty she saw there.

For there could be no doubt about this, at least; except for the softening into womanly traits, and for a slightly fairer complexion, the picture her glass showed her was a faithful copy of that other, which she had seen for the first time last night.