e had a quick
sensibility, which too frequently discovered itself in the immediate
resentment of injuries or neglect. She had, besides, acquired the
dangerous character of a wit; but to which she had no real pretensions,
although the most discerning critic, hearing her converse, might fall
into this mistake. Her replies had all the effect of repartee, not
because she possessed those qualities which can properly be called wit,
but that what she said was delivered with an energy, an instantaneous
and powerful conception of the sentiment, joined with a real or a
well-counterfeited simplicity, a quick turn of the eye, and an arch
smile. Her words were but the words of others, and, like those of
others, put into common sentences; but the delivery made them pass for
wit, as grace in an ill-proportioned figure will often make it pass for
symmetry.

And now--leaving description--the reader must form a judgment of her by
her actions; by all the round of great or trivial circumstances that
shall be related.

At breakfast, which had just begun at the commencement of this chapter,
the conversation was lively on the part of Miss Milner, wise on the part
of Dorriforth, good on the part of Miss Woodley, and an endeavour at all
three on the part of Mrs. Horton. The discourse at length drew from Mr.
Dorriforth this observation:

"You have a greater resemblance of your father, Miss Milner, than I
imagined you had from report: I did not expect to find you so like him."

"Nor did I, Mr. Dorriforth, expect to find you any thing like what you
are."

"No?--pray what did you expect to find me?"

"I expected to find you an elderly man, and a plain man."

This was spoken in an artless manner, but in a tone which obviously
declared she thought her guardian young and handsome. He replied, but
not without some little embarrassment, "A plain man you shall find me in
all my actions."

"Then your actions are to contradict your appearance."

For in what she said, Miss Milner had the quality peculiar to wits, of
hazarding the thought that first occurs, which thought, is generally
truth. On this, he paid her a compliment in return.

"You, Miss Milner, I should suppose, must be a very bad judge of what is
plain, and what is not."

"How so?"

"Because I am sure you will readily own you do not think yourself
handsome; and allowing that, you instantly want judgment."

"And I would rather want judgment than beauty," she replied, "and so I
gi