peculiar character; one of those voices that instantly arrest
attention: gentle and yet solemn, earnest yet unimpassioned.
With a step as whispering as his tone, the man who had been
kneeling by the tomb, had unobserved joined his associate and
Egremont. He hardly reached the middle height; his form
slender, but well proportioned; his pale countenance, slightly
marked with the small pox, was redeemed from absolute ugliness
by a highly-intellectual brow, and large dark eyes that
indicated deep sensibility and great quickness of
apprehension. Though young, he was already a little bald; he
was dressed entirely in black; the fairness of his linen, the
neatness of his beard, his gloves much worn, yet carefully
mended, intimated that his very faded garments were the result
of necessity rather than of negligence.

"You also lament the dissolution of these bodies," said
Egremont.

"There is so much to lament in the world in which we live,"
said the younger of the strangers, "that I can spare no pang
for the past."

"Yet you approve of the principle of their society; you prefer
it, you say, to our existing life."

"Yes; I prefer association to gregariousness."

"That is a distinction," said Egremont, musingly.

"It is a community of purpose that constitutes society,"