emed constitutionally deep; and some subtle fire of impassioned
intellect apparently burned within her, which--being alternately pushed
forward into a conspicuous expression by the irresistible instincts of
her temperament, and then immediately checked in obedience to the decorum
of her sex and age and her maidenly condition--gave to her whole
demeanour, and to her conversation, an air of embarrassment, and even of
self-conflict, that was almost distressing to witness. Even her very
utterance and enunciation often suffered in point of clearness and
steadiness, from the agitation of her excessive organic sensibility. At
times the self-counteraction and self-baffling of her feelings caused her
even to stammer. But the greatest deductions from Miss Wordsworth's
attractions, and from the exceeding interest which surrounded her, in
right of her character, of her history, and of the relation which she
fulfilled towards her brother, were the glancing quickness of her
motions, and other circumstances in her deportment (such as her stooping
attitude when walking), which gave an ungraceful character to her
appearance when out of doors . . . .

'Her knowledge of literature was irregular and thoroughly unsystematic.
She was content to be ignorant of many things; but what she knew, and had
really mastered, lay where it could not be disturbed--in the temple of
her own most fervid heart.'

It may not be amiss here to add from the same gossipy but graphic pen, a
description of the Townend home, and of the way of life there, which has
often before been quoted:--

'A little semi-vestibule between two doors prefaced the entrance into
what might be considered the principal room of the cottage. It was an
oblong square, not above eight and a half feet high, sixteen feet long,
and twelve broad, very prettily wainscoted from the floor to the ceiling
with dark polished oak, slightly embellished with carving. One window
there was--a perfect and unpretending cottage window--with little diamond
panes, embowered at almost every season of the year with roses, and, in
the summer and autumn, with a profusion of jasmine and other fragrant
shrubs. From the exuberant luxuriance of the vegetation around it, this
window, though tolerably large, did not furnish a very powerful light to
one who entered from the open air . . . . I was ushered up a little
flight of stairs, fourteen in all, to a little drawing-room, or whatever
the reader chooses to ca