She was gorgeous in a dark brown silk dress of awful stiffness and terrible dimensions; and on her shoulders she wore a short cloak of velvet and fur, very handsome withal, but so swelling in its proportions on all sides as necessarily to create more of dismay than of admiration in the mind of any ordinary man.

And her bonnet was a monstrous helmet with the beaver up, displaying the awful face of the warrior, always ready for combat, and careless to guard itself from attack.

The large contorted bows which she bore were as a grisly crest upon her casque, beautiful, doubtless, but majestic and fear-compelling.

In her hand she carried her armour all complete, a prayer-book, a bible, and a book of hymns.

These the footman had brought for her to the study door, but she had thought fit to enter her husband's room with them in her own custody.
"Well, Mr.Thumble!" she said.
Mr.Thumble did not answer at once, thinking, probably, that the bishop might choose to explain the circumstances.