Thornton bowed with an air of ironical respect, and obeyed the command.

I turned to look at Glanville. His countenance, always better adapted to
a stern, than a soft expression, was perfectly fearful; every line in it
seemed dug into a furrow; the brows were bent over his large and flashing
eyes with a painful intensity of anger and resolve; his teeth were
clenched firmly as if by a vice, and the thin upper lip, which was drawn
from them with a bitter curl of scorn, was as white as death. His right
hand had closed upon the back of the massy chair, over which his tall
nervous frame leant, and was grasping it with an iron force, which it
could not support: it snapped beneath his hand like a hazel stick. This
accident, slight as it was, recalled him to himself. He apologized with
apparent self-possession for his disorder; and, after a few words of
fervent and affectionate farewell on my part, I left him to the solitude
which I knew he desired.




CHAPTER LVII.

While I seemed only intent upon pleasure, I locked in my heart
the consciousness and vanity of power; in the levity of the
lip, I disguised the knowledge and the workings of the brain;
and I looked, as with a gifted eye, upon the mysteries of the
hidden depths, while I seemed to float an idler with the herd
only upon the surface of the stream.
--Falkland.