eauty of feature, the majestic calm of expression, the
sweetness of the smile, the look full of love cast from earth to heaven.

There was a striking resemblance between the creation of the artist and
the young girl seated beneath in almost the same attitude. In truth, the
youthful Mary Van de Werve was as beautiful as the poetical representation
of her patroness. She had the same large blue eyes, whose expression,
although calm and thoughtful, revealed a keen sensibility and a tender,
loving soul; her golden hair fell in ringlets over a brow of marble
whiteness, and no painter had ever traced a cheek of lovelier mould or
more delicate hue; her whole being expressed that calm recollection and
attractive gravity which is the true poetry of the immaterial soul, and
which was comprehended only by the believing artists of the North before
the material inspiration of pagan art had been transmitted to them from
the South.

Mary Van de Werve was most richly attired; but there was in her dress an
absence of ornament which appeared strange at that period of extreme pomp
and show. A waist of sky-blue velvet encircled her slender form, and a
brocade skirt fell in large folds to her feet. Only on her open sleeves
appeared some gold thread, and the clasp which fastened the chamois-skin
purse suspended from her girdle was encrusted with precious stones.

All her surroundings betokened her father's opulence: large stained-glass
windows, covered with the armorial bearings of his ancestors, cast their
varied hues upon the inlaid marble floor; tables and chairs of oak, slabs
supporting exquisite statuary from the chisel of the most celebrated
artists, were ranged along the walls; an ivory crucifix surmounted a
silver basin of rare workmanship containing holy water. Even the massive
andirons, which stood in the broad fireplace, were partly of gold and
ornamented with the coat of arms.

Her prayer was finished, or it might be that her thoughts had taken
another turn; she arose and walked slowly towards the large window which
overlooked the garden. She fixed her eyes upon the beautiful blue sky; her
countenance was bright, as though a sweet hope filled her heart, and a
rosy hue suffused her cheeks.

An old man at this moment entered the room. Heavy moustaches shaded his
lips, and a long beard fell upon his breast. There was something grave and
severe in his imposing appearance and even in his dress; for although his
doublet was of gold