“It was at Villino Trollope that we first saw that wonderfully clever author, George Eliot. She is a woman of forty, perhaps, of large frame, and fair Saxon coloring. In heaviness of jaw, and height of cheek-bone, she greatly resembles a German; nor are her features unlike those of Wordsworth, judging from his pictures. The expression of her face is gentle and amiable, and her manner is particularly timid and retiring. In conversation Mrs. Lewes is most entertaining.”
It is asserted that she is nervously sensitive as to her lack of beauty, and will not on that account consent to sit for any kind of picture; but I am inclined to doubt as to her refusal being in consequence of this feeling; it, more probably, is the result of that modesty which is so charming and beautiful a trait in her character, a modesty which will not permit her to do anything which may appear like self-glorification; which lets the world seek her out, if so be it thinks her worthy of being sought after,
