brotherhood with all.

The fire burned clear and high, casting a rich twilight (for there was
no other light in the room) over that Gothic chamber, and shining
cheerily upon the varying countenance of Clarence and the more
contemplative features of his host. In the latter you might see that
care and thought had been harsh but not unhallowed companions. In the
lines which crossed his expanse of brow, time seemed to have buried
many hopes; but his mien and air, if loftier, were gentler than in
younger days; and though they had gained somewhat in dignity, had lost
greatly in reserve.

There was in the old chamber, with its fretted roof and ancient
"garniture," the various books which surrounded it, walls that the
learned built to survive themselves, and in the marble likenesses of
those for whom thought had won eternity, joined to the hour, the
breathing quiet, and the hearth-light, by whose solitary rays we love
best in the eves of autumn to discourse on graver or subtler themes,--
there was in all this a spell which seemed particularly to invite and
to harmonize with that tone of conversation, some portions of which we
are now about to relate.

"How loudly," said Clarence, "that last gust swept by; you remember
that beautiful couplet in Tibullus,--

'Quam juvat immites ventos audire cubantem,
Et dominam tenero detinuisse sinu.'"
["Sweet on our couch to hear the winds above,
And cling with closer heart to her we love."]