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instead of a man, he could not have been easier. He was young- perhaps
from twenty-eight to thirty- tall, slender; his face riveted the
eye; it was like a Greek face, very pure in outline: quite a straight,
classic nose; quite an Athenian mouth and chin. It is seldom,
indeed, an English face comes so near the antique models as did his.
He might well be a little shocked at the irregularity of my
lineaments, his own being so harmonious. His eyes were large and blue,
with brown lashes; his high forehead, colourless as ivory, was
partially streaked over by careless locks of fair hair.
This is a gentle delineation, is it not, reader? Yet he whom it
describes scarcely impressed one with the idea of a gentle, a
yielding, an impressible, or even of a placid nature. Quiescent as
he now sat, there was something about his nostril, his mouth, his
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brow, which, to my perceptions, indicated elements within either
restless, or hard, or eager. He did not speak to me one word, nor even
direct to me one glance, till his sisters returned. Diana, as she
passed in and out, in the course of preparing tea, brought me a little
cake, baked on the top of the oven.
'Eat that now,' she said: 'you must be hungry. Hannah says you have
had nothing but some gruel since breakfast.'
I did not refuse it, for my appetite was awakened and keen. Mr.
Rivers now closed his book, approached the table, and, as he took a
seat, fixed his blue pictorial-looking eyes full on me. There was an
unceremonious directness, a searching, decided steadfastness in his
gaze now, which told that intention and not diffidence, had hitherto
kept it averted from the stranger.
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