Miss Reid, the Rosalba of Britain, who, in crayons, had a grace and a
softness of colouring rarely surpassed, was a visitor likewise at the
house, whose works and whose person were almost divertingly, as was
remarked by Mr. Twining, at variance with one another; for while the
works were all loveliness, their author was saturnine, cold, taciturn;
absent to an extreme; awkward and full of mischances in every motion;
ill-accoutred, even beyond negligence, in her dress; and plain enough
to produce, grotesquely, an effect that was almost picturesque.
Yet, with all this outward lack of allurement, her heart was kind, her
temper was humane, and her friendships were zealous. But she had met
with some misfortunes in early life that had embittered her existence,
and kept it always wavering, in a miserable balance, between heartless
apathy, and pining discontent.