Miss Fanny blushed and smiled, and held out her hand with an easy
frankness which I in vain endeavored to imitate. During breakfast, Mr.
Trevanion continued to read his letters and glance over the papers, with
an occasional ejaculation of "Pish!" "Stuff!" between the intervals in
which he mechanically swallowed his tea, or some small morsels of dry
toast. Then rising with a suddenness which characterized his movements,
he stood on his hearth for a few moments buried in thought; and now that
a large-brimmed hat was removed from his brow, and the abruptness of his
first movement, with the sedateness of his after pause, arrested my
curious attention, I was more than ever ashamed of my mistake. It was a
careworn, eager, and yet musing countenance, hollow-eyed and with deep
lines; but it was one of those faces which take dignity and refinement
from that mental cultivation which distinguishes the true aristocrat,
namely, the highly educated, acutely intelligent man. Very handsome
might that face have been in youth, for the features, though small, were
exquisitely defined; the brow, partially bald, was noble and massive,
and there was almost feminine delicacy in the curve of the lip. The
whole expression of the face was commanding, but sad. Often, as my
experience of life increased, have I thought to trace upon that
expressive visage the history of energetic ambition curbed by a
fastidious philosophy and a scrupulous conscience; but then all that I
could see was a vague, dissatisfied melancholy, which dejected me I knew
not why.

Presently Trevanion returned to the table, collected his letters, moved
slowly towards the door, and vanished.

His wife's eyes followed him tenderly. Those eyes reminded me of my
mother's, as I verily believe did all eyes that expressed affection. I
crept nearer to her, and longed to press the white hand that lay so