eautiful
girl would demand more of life in every way, year by year, as it passed;
but this would not make her strive for it, she would always remain as
serenely careless, as unconcerned, as now.

The mirror gave back, also, the second image. It was that of a woman
older--older by the difference that lies between sixteen years and
twenty-six. This second image was tall and slender. It had hair of the
darkest brown which is not black--hair straight and fine, its soft
abundance making little display; this hair was arranged with great
simplicity, too great, perhaps, for, brushed smoothly back and closely
coiled behind, it had an air of almost severe plainness--a plainness,
however, which the perfect oval of the face, and the beautiful forehead,
full and low, marked by the slender line of the dark eyebrows, with the
additional contrast of the long dark eyelashes beneath, could bear. The
features were regular, delicate; the complexion a clear white, of the
finest, purest grain imaginable, the sort of texture which gives the
idea that the bright color will come and go through its fairness. This
expectation was not fulfilled; the same controlled calm seemed to hold
sway there which one perceived in the blue eyes and round the mouth.

As Winthrop had said, Margaret Harold was considered handsome. By that
was meant that she was in possession of a general acknowledgment that
the shape and poise of her head were fine, that her features were
well-cut, that her tall, slender form was charmingly proportioned, her
movements graceful. Winthrop would have stated, as his own opinion, that
she was too cold and formal to be beautiful--too restricted; it was true
that in one thing she was not restricted (this was also his own
opinion), namely, in the high esteem she had for herself.

She had undoubtedly a quiet reserved sort of beauty. But other women
were not made jealous by any especial interest in her, by discussions
concerning her, by frequent introduction of her name. She was thought
unsympathetic; but as she never said the clever, cutting things which
unsympathetic women sometimes know how to say so admirably, she was not
thought entertaining as well--as they often are. Opinion varied,
therefore, as to whether she could say these things, but would not, or
whether it was the contrary, that she would have said them if she had
been able, but simply could not, having no endowment of that kind of
wit; one thing alone was certain, namely,