She was dressed in what
was called a Queen Mary's ruff and farthingale; not the falling ruff
with which the unfortunate Mary of Scotland is usually painted, but
that which, with more than Spanish stiffness, surrounded the throat,
and set off the morose head, of her fierce namesake, of Smithfield
memory. This antiquated dress assorted well with the faded complexion,
grey eyes, thin lips, and austere visage of the antiquated maiden,
which was, moreover, enhanced by a black hood, worn as her head-gear,
carefully disposed so as to prevent any of her hair from escaping to
view, probably because the simplicity of the period knew no art of
disguising the colour with which time had begun to grizzle her
tresses. Her figure was tall, thin, and flat, with skinny arms and
hands, and feet of the larger size, cased in huge high-heeled shoes,
which added height to a stature already ungainly. Apparently some art
had been used by the tailor, to conceal a slight defect of shape,
occasioned by the accidental elevation of one shoulder above the
other; but the praiseworthy efforts of the ingenious mechanic, had
only succeeded in calling the attention of the observer to his
benevolent purpose, without demonstrating that he had been able to
achieve it.
Such was Mrs. Martha Trapbois, whose dry "What were you seeking here,
sir?" fell again, and with reiterated sharpness, on the ear of Nigel,
as he gazed upon her presence, and compared it internally to one of
the faded and grim figures in the old tapestry which adorned his
bedstead.
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