Instead of doing so, however, he beheld a pretty young lady of not more than twenty-five, whose raiment of widow's weeds set off her beauty to the greatest advantage.
She was a charming blonde, with golden hair and blue eyes, and a complexion of rose-leaf hue.

In spite of her grief her demeanour was lively and engaging, and her smile particularly attractive, lighting up her whole face in the most fascinating manner.

Her hands and feet were small, her stature was that of a fairy, and her figure was perfect in every way.
Altogether, Mrs.Vrain looked like a sylph or a dainty shepherdess of Dresden china, and should have been arrayed in gossamer robes, rather than in the deep mourning she affected.

Indeed, Lucian considered that such weeds were rather premature, as Mrs.Vrain could not yet be certain that the murdered man was her husband; but she looked so charming and childlike a creature that he forgave her being too eager to consider herself a widow.

Perhaps with such an elderly husband her eagerness was natural.
From this charming vision Lucian's eyes wandered to the attentive third person, a rosy-cheeked, plump little man, of between fifty and sixty.
From his resemblance to Mrs.Vrain--for he had the same blue eyes and pink-and-white complexion--Lucian guessed that he was her father, and such, indeed, proved to be the case.