boy.

She hurried after him and went into the house. After what he had said in
the boat she wished to look at herself in the glass, to see if there was
anything strange or painful, anything that might rouse surprise, in her
appearance. She gained her bedroom, and went at once to the mirror.

Hermione was not by nature at all a self-conscious woman. She knew that
she was plain, and had sometimes, very simply, regretted it. But she did
not generally think about her appearance, and very seldom now wondered
what others were thinking of it. When Maurice had been with her she had
often indeed secretly compared her ugliness with his beauty. But a great
love breeds many regrets as well as many joys. And that was long ago.
It was years since she had looked at herself in the glass with any keen
feminine anxiety, any tremor of fear, or any cruel self-criticism. But
now she stood for a long time before the glass, quite still, looking at
her reflection with wide, almost with staring, eyes.

It was true what Gaspare said. She saw that she was looking ill, very
different from her usual strong self. There was not a thread of white
in her thick hair, and this fact, combined with the eagerness of her
expression, the strong vivacity and intelligence that normally shone in
her eyes, deceived many people as to her age. But to-day her face was
strained, haggard, and feverish. Under the brown tint that the sunrays
had given to her complexion there seemed to lurk a sickly white, which
was most markedly suggested at the corner of the mouth. The cheek-bones
seemed unusually prominent. And the eyes held surely a depth of
uneasiness, of--

Hermione approached her face to the mirror till it almost touched the
glass. The reflected eyes drew hers. She gazed into them with a scrutiny
into which she seemed to be pouring her whole force, both of soul and
body. She was trying to look at her nature, to see its shape, its color,
its expression, so that she might judge of what it was capable--whether
for good or evil. The eyes into which she looked both helped her and
frustrated her. They told her much--too much. And yet they baffled her.
When she would know all, they seemed to substitute themselves for that
which she saw through them, and she found herself noticing their size,
their prominence, the exact shade of their brown hue. And the quick
human creature behind them was hidden from her.

But Gaspare was right. She did look ill. Emile would notice