His figure it was that
charmed the curious observer of male beauty. He was five feet ten; had
square shoulders, a deep chest, masculine flank, small foot, high instep.
To crown all this, a head, overflowed by ripples of dark brown hair, sat
with heroic grace upon his solid white throat, like some glossy falcon
new lighted on a Parian column.
This young gentleman had decided qualities, positive and negative. He
could walk up to a five-barred gate and clear it, alighting on the other
side like a fallen feather; could row all day, and then dance all night;
could fling a cricket ball a hundred and six yards; had a lathe and a
tool-box, and would make you in a trice a chair, a table, a doll, a
nutcracker, or any other moveable, useful, or the very reverse. And could
not learn his lessons, to save his life.
His sister Julia was not so easy to describe. Her figure was tall, lithe,
and serpentine; her hair the colour of a horse-chestnut fresh from its
pod; her ears tiny and shell-like, her eyelashes long and silky; her
mouth small when grave, large when smiling; her eyes pure hazel by day,
and tinged with a little violet by night.
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