“I always thought, myself, she would be tall,” said Mrs. Montgomery; “but you think her more grown than you could have supposed, perhaps?”
“Yes—ma’am—yes—I do,” he replied, glad to be spared the task of translating himself.
Dinner was at this moment announced; and, the next, Edmund heard the words:—“Lady Julia L., allow me——” pronounced by Lord Morven, who, at the same time, presented his arm to Julia. She accepted it, and the couple fell into the rear of the battalion, marching towards the dining-room. Edmund felt an odd sort of sensation, which he did not wait to define, but, offering his arm to Frances, who was busy, declaring that she wanted but half an inch of Julia’s height; he followed with her, and, on taking his seat at the table, between her ladyship and Lady Susan Morven, found himself placed opposite to Julia and Lord Morven.
[CHAPTER XXXIII.]
“Thou, fairer than the spirit of the hills,
And blooming as the bow of the shower,
With thy soft hair, floating round thy beauty
Thus, like the bright curling mist of Cona,
Hast thou no welcome for Fingall?”
The likeness between the twins had nearly disappeared. The uncommon colour of the hair, indeed, blended of flaxen and light brown, with the luxuriance of its growth, and the peculiar golden lustre received by the curls when the light shone on them, was still the same in both sisters. The fairness of the skin, too, was much the same; but the rest will require separate portraits.
Frances’ colour was not quite so brilliant as her sister’s; yet it was, at once, lively and delicate, and came and went, in a slight degree, at every movement. Her blue eyes sparkled, almost continually, with unmixed delight. Her mouth was small, pretty, and peculiarly flexible, every moment escaping from any attempt at gravity, into smiles and laughs of various degrees, displaying the white, small, regular, pearly teeth. Her figure was slight and light, to a sylph-like degree, and so frequently seen in the active pursuit of some medium of pleasure, or means of mirth, that had her picture been taken in any attitude that did not indicate passing, that did not keep the beholder in constant dread of its disappearance, it would not have been like.
Julia’s figure was perfectly formed, taller than her sister’s, and, as we have before observed, as fully rounded as symmetry would permit; her neck and shoulders particularly fine. Her characteristic attitudes were those of graceful quiescence; yet, when she did move, it was with a freedom from effort, that preserved unbroken that dignity of carriage, for which, young as she was, she was already remarkable. She had an air too of quiet composure, equally beyond her years; though in this Julia was, unintentionally, a hypocrite, her seeming stillness of manner being the result of a conscious depth of enthusiastic feeling, sedulously concealed by extreme timidity, yet so pre-occupying her entire nature, that trifles had no power to excite, even in their due proportion. Her colour, as well as Frances’, came and went, but seldomer, and on greater occasions; and then its rising was more gradual, as if a silent effort to avoid the exposure of emotion had delayed, though it could not prevent, the blush. Nay, from the moment it did dawn on the cheek, it continued heightening, till it arrived at a painful degree of intensity, and then was as slow in retiring. Her mouth was perfectly formed, the lips fuller than her sister’s, but only sufficiently so, to give an additional luxuriance to her beauty; while her smile had a witchery about it, that no man whatever could behold with entire composure. Her nose was straight, her eyes hazel, their habitual expression softness; but, when she listened to any thing that interested her much, they assumed an eagerness of look, so enthusiastic, so natural, that it was at such moments her character was best understood.