Her figure--taller than her sister's, taller than the average of woman's height; instinct with such a seductive, serpentine suppleness, so lightly and playfully graceful, that its movements suggested, not unnaturally, the movements of a young cat--her figure was so perfectly developed already that no one who saw her could have supposed that she was only eighteen.

She bloomed in the full physical maturity of twenty years or more--bloomed naturally and irresistibly, in right of her matchless health and strength.

Here, in truth, lay the mainspring of this strangely-constituted organization.

Her headlong course down the house stairs; the brisk activity of all her movements; the incessant sparkle of expression in her face; the enticing gayety which took the hearts of the quietest people by storm--even the reckless delight in bright colors which showed itself in her brilliantly-striped morning dress, in her fluttering ribbons, in the large scarlet rosettes on her smart little shoes--all sprang alike from the same source; from the overflowing physical health which strengthened every muscle, braced every nerve, and set the warm young blood tingling through her veins, like the blood of a growing child.
On her entry into the breakfast-room, she was saluted with the customary remonstrance which her flighty disregard of all punctuality habitually provoked from the long-suffering household authorities.

In Miss Garth's favorite phrase, "Magdalen was born with all the senses--except a sense of order." Magdalen! It was a strange name to have given her?
Strange, indeed; and yet, chosen under no extraordinary circumstances.