The other was as certainly Georgiana: but not the Georgiana I remembered⁠—the slim and fairy-like girl of eleven. This was a full-blown, very plump damsel, fair as waxwork, with handsome and regular features, languishing blue eyes, and ringleted yellow hair. The hue of her dress was black too; but its fashion was so different from her sister’s⁠—so much more flowing and becoming⁠—it looked as stylish as the other’s looked puritanical.

In each of the sisters there was one trait of the mother⁠—and only one; the thin and pallid elder daughter had her parent’s Cairngorm eye: the blooming and luxuriant younger girl had her contour of jaw and chin⁠—perhaps a little softened, but still imparting an indescribable hardness to the countenance otherwise so voluptuous and buxom.