he was in the
middle of a small family circle, the members of which were well-educated
according to the fashion of the times, intelligent, and refined; but not
especially remarkable for learning or original thought. They accepted
the standards and views of their generation, interpreting them in a
reasonable and healthy manner. She had therefore no inducement, such as
might come from the influence of superior intellects, to dive into
difficult problems. Her mental efforts were purely her own, and they led
her in another direction; but she saw what she did see so very clearly,
that she would probably have been capable of looking more deeply into
the heart of things, had any impulse from outside induced her to try.
Her vision, however, might not have remained so admirably adapted for
the delicate operations nearer to the surface which were her real work
in life.

Jane's person is thus described for us by her niece Anna, now becoming a
grown-up girl and a keen observer: 'The figure tall and slight, but not
drooping; well balanced, as was proved by her quick firm step. Her
complexion of that rare sort which seems the particular property of
light brunettes; a mottled skin, not fair, but perfectly clear and
healthy; the fine naturally curling hair, neither light nor dark; the
bright hazel eyes to match, and the rather small, but well-shaped,
nose.' This is a delightful description; but she adds that in spite of
all this, her aunt was not regularly handsome, though most attractive.
As to her charm and lovableness there is absolute unanimity among all
those who were near enough to her to know what she really was. Jane had
by this time seen a good deal of society, and enjoyed it, though with a
certain critical aloofness which belonged to her family, and which was
hardly to be avoided by so clever a person as herself. This critical
spirit was evidently a quality of which she endeavoured to rid herself
as of a fault; and one of her nieces, who was too young to know her aunt
intimately, until almost the end of her life, was able then to say: 'She
was in fact one of the last people in society to be afraid of. I do not
suppose she ever in her life said a sharp thing. She was naturally shy
and not given to talk much in company, and people fancied, knowing that
she was clever, that she was on the watch for good material for books
from their conversation. Her intimate friends knew how groundless was
the apprehension and that it wronged h