That Mr. Franklin was in love, on his side, nobody who saw and heard him
could doubt. The difficulty was to fathom Miss Rachel. Let me do myself
the honour of making you acquainted with her; after which, I will leave
you to fathom for yourself--if you can.
My young lady's eighteenth birthday was the birthday now coming, on
the twenty-first of June. If you happen to like dark women (who, I am
informed, have gone out of fashion latterly in the gay world), and if
you have no particular prejudice in favour of size, I answer for Miss
Rachel as one of the prettiest girls your eyes ever looked on. She was
small and slim, but all in fine proportion from top to toe. To see her
sit down, to see her get up, and specially to see her walk, was enough
to satisfy any man in his senses that the graces of her figure (if you
will pardon me the expression) were in her flesh and not in her clothes.
Her hair was the blackest I ever saw. Her eyes matched her hair. Her
nose was not quite large enough, I admit. Her mouth and chin were (to
quote Mr. Franklin) morsels for the gods; and her complexion (on the
same undeniable authority) was as warm as the sun itself, with this
great advantage over the sun, that it was always in nice order to look
at. Add to the foregoing that she carried her head as upright as a dart,
in a dashing, spirited, thoroughbred way--that she had a clear voice,
with a ring of the right metal in it, and a smile that began very
prettily in her eyes before it got to her lips--and there behold the
portrait of her, to the best of my painting, as large as life!
And what about her disposition next? Had this charming creature no
faults? She had just as many faults as you have, ma'am--neither more nor
less.
To put it seriously, my dear pretty Miss Rachel, possessing a host
of graces and attractions, had one defect, which strict impartiality
compels me to acknowledge. She was unlike most other girls of her age,
in this--that she had ideas of her own, and was stiff-necked enough to
set the fashions themselves at defiance, if the fashions didn't suit her
views. In trifles, this independence of hers was all well enough; but
in matters of importance, it carried her (as my lady thought, and as I
thought) too far. She judged for herself, as few women of twice her age
judge in general; never asked your advice; never told you beforehand
what she was going to do; never came with secrets and confidences to
anybody, from her mother downwards. In little things and great, with
people she loved, and people she hated (and she did both with equal
heartiness), Miss Rachel always went on a way of her own, sufficient for
herself in the joys and sorrows of her life. Over and over again I have
heard my lady say, "Rachel's best friend and Rachel's worst enemy are,
one and the other--Rachel herself."