person who much struck me was Lady S—d's [Stafford's] eldest daughter, Lady C. L.
[Charlotte Leveson]. They say she is
not
pretty. I don't know—every thing is pretty that pleases; but there is an air of
soul
about her—and her colour changes—and there is that shyness of the antelope (which I delight in) in her manner so much, that I observed her more than I did any other woman in the rooms, and only looked at any thing else when I thought she might perceive and feel embarrassed by my scrutiny. After all, there may be something of association in this. She is a friend of Augusta's, and whatever she loves I can't help liking.
Her mother, the Marchioness, talked to me a little; and I was twenty times on the point of asking her to introduce me to
sa fille