It had never entered into her head to take her mother into her confidence with regard to Elsmere.

Since she could remember, it had been an axiom in the family to spare the delicate nervous mother all the anxieties and perplexities of life.

It was at system in which the subject of it had always acquiesced with perfect contentment, and Catherine had no qualms about it.

If there was good news, it was presented in its most sugared form to Mrs.Leyburn; but the moment any element of pain and difficulty cropped up in the common life, it was pounced upon and appropriated by Catherine, aided and abetted by the girls, and Mrs.Leyburn knew no more about it than an unweaned babe.
So that Catherine was thinking at most of some misconduct of a Perth dyer with regard to her mother's best gray poplin, when one of the greatest surprises of her life burst upon her.
She was in Mrs.Leyburn's bedroom that night, helping to put away her mother's things as her custom was.

She had just taken off the widow's cap, caressing as she did so the brown hair underneath, which was still soft and plentiful, when Mrs.Leyburn turned upon her.