John Crewys was struck by the sudden illumination of Dr. Blundell's
plain, dark face. The deeply sunken eyes glowed, and the sadness and
weariness of their expression were dispelled.

His eyes followed the direction of the doctor's gaze, and his own face
immediately reflected the doctor's interest.

Lady Mary was coming down the wide staircase, in the light of a group
of wax candles held by a tall bronze angel.

She was dressed with almost rigid simplicity, and her abundant
light-brown hair was plainly parted. She was pale and even
sad-looking, but beautiful still; with a delicate and regular profile,
soft blue eyes, and a sweet, rather tremulous mouth.

John's heart seemed to contract within him, and then beat fast with a
sensation that was not entirely pity, because those eyes--the bluest,
he remembered, that he had ever seen--brought back to him, suddenly
and vividly, the memory of the exquisitely fresh and lovely girl who
had married her elderly guardian nineteen years since.

He recollected that some members of the Crewys family had agreed that
Lady Mary Setoun had done well for herself, "a penniless lass wi' a
lang pedigree;" for Sir Timothy was rich. Others had laughed, and said
that Sir Timothy was determined that his heirs should be able to boast
some of the bluest blood in Scotland on their mother's side,--but that
he might have waited a little longer for his bride.

She was so young, barely seventeen years old, and so very lovely, that
John Crewys had felt indignant with Sir Timothy, whose appearance and