recalled to mind the eager head of a listening greyhound. He had no
pretension to be called handsome; his eyes were his best feature; they
were very peculiar, of a light hazel, darker towards the outside of the
iris, very brilliant, the whites tinted with blue, and the lashes
uncommonly thick and black; the eyebrows were also very dark, and of a
sharply-defined angular shape, but the hair was much lighter, loose,
soft, and wavy; the natural fairness of the complexion was shown by the
whiteness of the upper part of the forehead, though the rest of the
face, as well as the small taper hands, were tanned by sunshine and
sea-breezes, into a fresh, hardy brown, glowing with red on the cheeks.

'What use shall I make of him?' proceeded Charles's thoughts. 'He
won't be worth his salt if he goes on in this way; he has got a graver
specimen of literature there than I ever saw Philip himself read on a
week-day; he has been puritanized till he is good for nothing; I'll
trouble myself no more about him!' He tried to read, but presently
looked up again. 'Plague! I can't keep my thoughts off him. That
sober look does not sit on that sun-burnt face as if it were native to
it; those eyes don't look as if the Redclyffe spirit was extinguished.'

Mrs. Edmonstone came in, and looking round, as if to find some
occupation for her guest, at length devised setting him to play at
chess with Charles. Charles gave her an amiable look, expressing that
neither liked it; but she was pretty well used to doing him good
against his will, and trusted to its coming right in time. Charles was
a capital chess-player, and seldom found any one who could play well
enough to afford him much real sport, but he found Sir Guy more nearly
a match than often fell to his lot; it was a bold dashing game, that
obliged him to be on his guard, and he was once so taken by surprise as
to be absolutely check-mated. His ill-humour evaporated, he was