place he knew. This was the result, I suppose, of what Barthrop once dryly
called the "effortless expansion" of Father Payne's personality. I suppose
he was about six-foot-two in height, and he must have weighed fifteen stone
or even more. He was not stout, but all his limbs were solid, so that he
filled his clothes. His hands were big, his feet were big. He wore a rather
full beard: he was slightly bald when I knew him, but his hair grew rather
long and curly. He always wore old clothes--but you were never conscious of
what he wore: he never looked, as some people do, like a suit of clothes
with a person inside them. Thinking it over, it seems to me that the reason
why you noticed his clothes so little, when you were with him, was because
you were always observing his face, or his hands, which were extremely
characteristic of him, or his motions, which had a lounging sort of grace
about them. Heavy men are apt on occasions to look lumbering, but Father
Payne never looked that. His whole body was under his full control. When he
walked, he swung easily along; when he moved, he moved impetuously and
eagerly. But his face was the most remarkable thing about him. It had no
great distinction of feature, and it was sanguine, often sunburnt, in hue.
But, solid as it was, it was all alive. His big dark eyes were brimful of
amusement and kindliness, and it was like coming into a warm room on a cold
day to have his friendly glance directed upon you. As he talked, his
eyebrows moved swiftly, and he had a look, with his eyes half-closed and
his brows drawn up, as he waited for an answer, of what the old books call
"quizzical"--a sort of half-caressing irony, which was very attractive. He
had an impatient little frown which passed over his face, like a ruffle of
wind, if things went too slowly or heavily for his taste; and he had, too,
on occasions a deep, abstracted look, as if he were following a thought
far. There was also another look, well known to his companions, when he
turned his eyes upwards with a sort of resignation, generally accompanied
by a deprecating gesture of the hand. Altogether it was a most expressive
face, because, except in his abstracted mood, he always seemed to be