Miss Judith Taverner
She was a fine young woman, rather above the average
height, and had been used for the past four years to
hearing herself proclaimed a remarkably handsome girl.
She could not, however, admire her
own beauty, which was of a type she was inclined to
despise. She had rather have had black hair; she
thought the fairness of her gold curls insipid.
Happily, her brows and lashes were dark, and her
eyes which were startlingly blue (in the manner of a
wax doll, she once scornfully told her brother) had a
directness and a fire which gave a great deal of
character to her face. At first glance one might write
her down a mere Dresden china miss, but a second
glance would inevitably discover the intelligence in
her eyes, and the decided air of resolution in the
curve of her mouth.
She was dressed neatly, but not in the first style of
fashion, in a plain round gown of French cambric,
frilled round the neck with a scolloped lace; and a
close mantle of twilled sarcenet. A poke-bonnet of
basket-willow and a striped velvet ribbon rather
charmingly framed her face, and a pair of York tan
gloves were drawn over her hands, and buttoned
tightly round her wrists.