She had the advantage of being a few hundreds a year
richer than any other inhabitant of the Hill; but she did not devote her
superior resources to the invidious exhibition of superior splendour.
Like a wise sovereign, the revenues of her exchequer were applied to the
benefit of her subjects, and not to the vanity of egotistical parade. As
no one else on the Hill kept a carriage, she declined to keep one. Her
entertainments were simple, but numerous. Twice a week she received the
Hill, and was genuinely at home to it. She contrived to make her parties
proverbially agreeable. The refreshments were of the same kind as those
which the poorest of her old maids of honour might proffer; but they
were better of their kind, the best of their kind,--the best tea, the
best lemonade, the best cakes. Her rooms had an air of comfort, which
was peculiar to them. They looked like rooms accustomed to receive, and
receive in a friendly way; well warmed, well lighted, card-tables and
piano each in the place that made cards and music inviting; on the walls
a few old family portraits, and three or four other pictures said to be
valuable and certainly pleasing,--two Watteaus, a Canaletti, a Weenix;
plenty of easy-chairs and settees covered with a cheerful chintz,--in
the arrangement of the furniture generally an indescribable careless
elegance. She herself was studiously plain in dress, more conspicuously
free from jewelry and trinkets than any married lady on the Hill. But
I have heard from those who were authorities on such a subject that she
was never seen in a dress of the last year's fashion. She adopted the
mode as it came out, just enough to show that she was aware it was out;
but with a sober reserve, as much as to say, "I adopt the fashion as far
as it suits myself; I do not permit the fashion to adopt me." In short,
Mrs. Colonel Poyntz was sometimes rough, sometimes coarse, always
masculine, and yet somehow or other masculine in a womanly way; but she
was never vulgar because never affected. It was impossible not to allow
that she was a thorough gentlewoman, and she could do things that
lower other gentlewomen, without any loss of dignity. Thus she was an
admirable mimic, certainly in itself the least ladylike condescension of
humour. But when she mimicked, it was with so tranquil a gravity, or so
royal a good humour, that one could only say, "What talents for society
dear Mrs. Colonel has!" As she was a gentlewoman emphatically, so