Her features were Grecian in outline, as regarded the upper portion of her face, and irregular below; with such a delightful little dimple in her curving chin, and full, pouting lips.

Her eyes, calm, steady, quiet, loving, grey eyes,-- eyes symbolical of faith and constancy, and unswerving fidelity of purpose: eyes that looked like tranquil depths through which you could see the soul-light reflected from below; and which only wanted the stirring power of some great motive or passion to illumine them with a myriad irradiating gems.
But,--pshaw! How can I describe her?
It is sacrilege thus to weigh and consider the points and merits of one we love.

Besides, even the most perfect and faultlessly-beautiful face in the world would be unable to stand the test of minute examination in detail.

As Thomson sings, to put his poetry into prose, how can you "from the diamond single out each ray, when all, though trembling with ten thousand hues, effuse one dazzling undivided light ?" It is impossible.

No words of mine could put before you what her face really was like, as it appeared to me then and afterwards when I had learnt to watch and decipher every versatile look and expression it wore.