I remember her telling me that the last words a dying sister of her mother's ever spoke, when Theodosia standing by the bedside placed her hand on the dying woman's forehead were, "Ah, that is Theo's little Indian hand," And truly the slender delicacy of hand and foot, which characterised her, were unmistakably due to her Indian descent.
In person she in nowise resembled either father or mother, unless it were possibly her father in the conformation and shape of the teeth.
[Footnote 1: But this she might also have got from her father, who was passionately fond of music, and was a very respectable performer on the violin.] I have already in a previous chapter of these reminiscences given a letter from Mrs.Browning in which she speaks of Theodosia's "multiform faculty." And the phrase, which so occurring, might in the case of almost any other writer be taken as a mere epistolary civility, is in the case of one whose absolute accuracy of veracity never swerved a hair's-breadth, equivalent to a formal certificate of the fact to the best of her knowledge.

And she knew my wife well both before and after the marriage of either of them.

Her faculty was truly _multiform_.
She was not a great musician; but her singing had for great musicians a charm which the performances of many of their equals in the art failed to afford them.

She had never much voice, but I have rarely seen the hearer to whose eyes she could not bring the tears.

She had a spell for awakening emotional sympathy which I have never seen surpassed, rarely indeed equalled.
For language she had an especial talent, was dainty in the use of her own, and astonishingly apt in acquiring--not merely the use for speaking as well as reading purposes, but--the delicacies of other tongues.