Against the wall behind her hung a picture from the pencil of John Van
Eyck, in which the great master had represented the Virgin in prayer,
whilst she was still ignorant of the sublime destiny that awaited her.

The artist had lavished upon this masterpiece the most ardent inspirations
of his pious and poetic genius, for the image seemed to live and think. It
charmed by the beauty of feature, the majestic calm of expression, the
sweetness of the smile, the look full of love cast from earth to heaven.

There was a striking resemblance between the creation of the artist and
the young girl seated beneath in almost the same attitude. In truth, the
youthful Mary Van de Werve was as beautiful as the poetical representation
of her patroness. She had the same large blue eyes, whose expression,
although calm and thoughtful, revealed a keen sensibility and a tender,
loving soul; her golden hair fell in ringlets over a brow of marble
whiteness, and no painter had ever traced a cheek of lovelier mould or
more delicate hue; her whole being expressed that calm recollection and
attractive gravity which is the true poetry of the immaterial soul, and
which was comprehended only by the believing artists of the North before
the material inspiration of pagan art had been transmitted to them from
the South.

Mary Van de Werve was most richly attired; but there was in her dress an
absence of ornament which appeared strange at that period of extreme pomp
and show. A waist of sky-blue velvet encircled her slender form, and a
brocade skirt fell in large folds to her feet. Only on her open sleeves
appeared some gold thread, and the clasp which fastened the chamois-skin
purse suspended from her girdle was encrusted with precious stones.