emed habitual to them. I knew their names afterwards,
and may as well mention them now.

First, there was Mrs. Eshton and two of her daughters. She had evidently
been a handsome woman, and was well preserved still. Of her daughters,
the eldest, Amy, was rather little: naive, and child-like in face and
manner, and piquant in form; her white muslin dress and blue sash became
her well. The second, Louisa, was taller and more elegant in figure;
with a very pretty face, of that order the French term _minois chiffone_:
both sisters were fair as lilies.

Lady Lynn was a large and stout personage of about forty, very erect,
very haughty-looking, richly dressed in a satin robe of changeful sheen:
her dark hair shone glossily under the shade of an azure plume, and
within the circlet of a band of gems.

Mrs. Colonel Dent was less showy; but, I thought, more lady-like. She
had a slight figure, a pale, gentle face, and fair hair. Her black satin
dress, her scarf of rich foreign lace, and her pearl ornaments, pleased
me better than the rainbow radiance of the titled dame.

But the three most distinguished--partly, perhaps, because the tallest
figures of the band--were the Dowager Lady Ingram and her daughters,
Blanche and Mary. They were all three of the loftiest stature of women.
The Dowager might be between forty and fifty: her shape was still fine;
her hair (by candle-light at least) still black; her teeth, too, were
still apparently perfect. Most people would have termed her a splendid
woman of her age: and so she was, no doubt, physically speaking; but then
there was an expression of almost insupportable haughtiness in her
bearing and countenance. She had Roman features and a double chin,
disappearing into a throat like a pillar: these features appeared to me
not only inflated and darkened, but even furrowed with pride; and the
chin was sustained by the same principle, in a position of almost
preternatural erectness. She had, likewise, a fierce and a hard eye: it
reminded me of Mrs. Reed's; she mouthed her words in speaking; her voice
was deep, its inflections very pompous, very dogmatical,--very
intolerable, in short. A crimson velvet robe, and a shawl turban of some
gold-wrought Indian fabric, invested her (I suppose she thought) with a
truly imperial dignity.

Blanche and Mary were of equal stature,--straight and tall as poplars.
Mary was too slim for her height, but Blanche was moulded like a Dian. I
regarde