It was the character of the countenance itself that impressed you.

You did not even know if this woman who might have been anything wonderful or grand you ever read of, were beautiful or not.

You did not care; it was as if you had been gazing on a tranquil evening sky and a lightning flash had suddenly startled you.

Is the lightning beautiful?
Who asks! But I know from what presently transpired, that the face was ivory pale in complexion, the eyes deeply dark, and the hair,--strange and uncanny combination,--of a bright and peculiar golden hue.
"You dare!" came forth in strange broken tones from Mr.Blake's lips.
I instantly turned towards him.

He was gazing with a look that was half indignant, half menacing at the silent detective who with eyes drooped and finger directed towards the picture, seemed to be waiting for him to finish.
"I do not understand an audacity that allows you to--to--" Was this the haughty gentleman we had known, this hesitating troubled man with bloodless lips and trembling hands?
"I declared my desire to justify myself," said my principal with a respectful bow.