Her forehead was broad; the chin of a sufficient firmness to sustain: that noble square; the brows marked by a soft thick brush to the temples; her black hair plainly drawn along her head to the knot, revealed by the mantilla fallen on her neck.
Elegant in plainness, the classic poet would have said of her hair and dress.

She was of the women whose wits are quick in everything they do.
That which was proper to her position, complexion, and the hour, surely marked her appearance.

Unaccountably this night, the fair fleshly presence over-weighted her intellectual distinction, to an observer bent on vindicating her innocence.

Or rather, he saw the hidden in the visible.
Owner of such a woman, and to lose her! Redworth pitied the husband.
The crackling flames reddened her whole person.

Gazing, he remembered Lady Dunstane saying of her once, that in anger she had the nostrils of a war-horse.