was intended by the character as given
of Amelia Booth, of Clarissa, of Di Vernon, and of Maggie Tulliver.
But as their persons have not been drawn with the pencil for me by
the artists who themselves created them, I have no conception how
they looked. Of Thackeray's Beatrix I have a vivid idea, because
she was drawn for him by an artist under his own eye. I have now to
describe Mary Lawrie, but have no artist who will take the trouble
to learn my thoughts and to reproduce them. Consequently I fear that
no true idea of the young lady can be conveyed to the reader; and
that I must leave him to entertain such a notion of her carriage and
demeanour as must come to him at the end from the reading of the
whole book.

But the attempt must be made, if only for fashion sake, so that no
adventitious help may be wanting to him, or more probably to her, who
may care to form for herself a personification of Mary Lawrie. She
was a tall, thin, staid girl, who never put herself forward in any of
those walks of life in which such a young lady as she is called upon
to show herself. She was silent and reserved, and sometimes startled,
even when appealed to in a household so quiet as that of Mr
Whittlestaff. Those who had seen her former life had known that she
had lived under the dominion of her step-mother, and had so accounted
for her manner. And then, added to this, was the sense of entire
dependence on a stranger, which, no doubt, helped to quell her
spirit. But Mr Whittlestaff had eyes with which to see and ears with
which to hear, and was not to be taken in by the outward appearance
of the young lady. He had perceived that under that quiet guise and
timid startled look there existed a power of fighting a battle for
herself or for a friend, if an occasion should arise which should
appear to herself to be sufficient. He had known her as one of her
father's household, and of her step-mother's; and had seen probably
some little instance of self-assertion, such as had not yet made
itself apparent to Mrs Baggett.

A man who had met her once, and for a few minutes only, would
certainly not declare her to be beautiful. She, too, like Mr
Whittlestaff, was always contented to pass unobserved. But the chance
man, had he seen her for long, would surely remark that Miss Lawrie
was an attractive girl; and had he heard her talk freely on any
matter of interest, would have called her very attractive. She would
blaze up into sudden eloquence, an