The Smuggler: A Tale. Volumes I-IIIJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
General
The Smuggler: A Tale. Volumes I-III
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
England -- Social life and customs -- 18th century -- Fiction; Kent (England) -- Fiction; Smugglers -- Fiction
which, if guided by a sounder discretion, would have rendered her one
of the most amiable persons on the earth.
After a few words of simple courtesy on both parts, Sir Edward turned
to the other two persons who were in the room, where he found metal
more attractive--at least, for the eyes. The first to whom he was
introduced was a young lady, who seemed to be about one-and-twenty
years of age, though she had in fact just attained another year; and
though Sir Robert somewhat hurried him on to the next, who was
younger, the keen eye of the young officer marked enough to make him
aware that, if so cold and so little disposed to look on a lover as
her uncle had represented, she might well become a very dangerous
neighbour to a man with a heart not well guarded against the power of
beauty. Her hair, eyes, and eyelashes were almost black, and her
complexion of a clear brown, with the rose blushing faintly in the
cheek; but the eyes were of a deep blue. The whole form of the head,
the fall of the hair, the bend of the neck from the shoulders, were
all exquisitely symmetrical and classical, and nothing could be more
lovely than the line of the brow and the chiselled cutting of the
nose. The upper lip, small and delicately drawn, the under lip full
and slightly apart, shewing the pearl-like teeth beneath; the turn of
the ear, and the graceful line in the throat, might all have served as
models for the sculptor or the painter; for the colouring was as rich
and beautiful as the form; and when she rose and stood to receive him,
with the small hand leaning gently on the arm of the chair, he thought
he had never seen anything more graceful than the figure, or more
harmonious than its calm dignity, with the lofty gravity of her
countenance. If there was a defect in the face, it was perhaps that
the chin was a little too prominent, but yet it suited well with the
whole countenance and with its expression, giving it decision without
harshness, and a look of firmness, which the bright smile that
fluttered for a moment round the lips, deprived of everything that was
not gentle and kind. There was soul, there was thought, there was
feeling, in the whole look; and Digby would fain have paused to see
those features animated in conversation. But her father led him on,
after a single word of introduction, to present him to his younger
daughter, who, with some points of resemblance, offered a strange
contrast to her sister. She, too, was very handsome, and apparently
about two years younger; but hers was the style of beauty which,
though it deserves a better name, is generally termed pretty. All the
features were good, and the hair exceedingly beautiful; but the face
was not so oval, the nose perhaps a little too short, and the lips too
sparkling with smiles to impress the mind, at first sight, so much as
the countenance of the other. She seemed all happiness; and in looking
to the expression and at her bright blue eyes, as they looked out
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