How shall I describe her? I had ample opportunity of taking a study, as
she faced me on the opposite side of the pew, seated beside the other
and elder lady, who, I could see at a glance, was her mother, from the
striking likeness between them--although, there was a wonderful
difference the while.
Have you never observed the slight, yet unmistakable traits of family
resemblance, and the various points in which they are displayed? They
may sometimes be only traceable in a single feature, a smile, a look, or
in some peculiar mannerism of speech, or action, or even thought; but
there they are; and, however indistinct they may be, however faint on
casual inspection, a practised eye can seldom fail to perceive them and
distinguish the relationship betwixt father and son, or mother and
daughter:--the kinship of brothers and sisters is not so evident to
strangers. In the present case no one could doubt: the younger lady
must certainly be the daughter of the other.
But, what was she like, you ask?
Well, she was not beautiful. She was not even what empty-headed people,
unaware of the real signification of the term, call "pretty." She was
interesting--will that word suit?
No. The description would not give you the least idea of what her face
really was like--much less of her expression, in which consisted its
great charm.
Shall I endeavour to picture her to you as I saw her for that first time
in church, before Love's busy fingers had woven a halo of romance around
her, only allowing me to behold her through a sort of fairy glamour; and
making me forget everything concerning her, save that she was "Min," and
that I loved her, and that she was the darling of my heart?