you name too deeply rooted in youth to have lost them now."

Sir Philip remained for some moments in a musing silence; and I took
advantage of that silence to examine him with more minute attention than I
had done before, much as the first sight of him had struck me.

He was somewhat below the common height,--so delicately formed that one
might call him rather fragile than slight. But in his carriage and air
there was remarkable dignity. His countenance was at direct variance with
his figure; for as delicacy was the attribute of the last, so power was
unmistakably the characteristic of the first. He looked fully the age his
steward had ascribed to him,--about forty-eight; at a superficial glance,
more, for his hair was prematurely white,--not gray, but white as snow.
But his eyebrows were still jet black, and his eyes, equally dark, were
serenely bright. His forehead was magnificent,--lofty and spacious, and
with only one slight wrinkle between the brows. His complexion was
sunburnt, showing no sign of weak health. The outline of his lips was
that which I have often remarked in men accustomed to great dangers, and
contracting in such dangers the habit of self-reliance,--firm and quiet,
compressed without an effort. And the power of this very noble
countenance was not intimidating, not aggressive; it was mild, it was
benignant. A man oppressed by some formidable tyranny, and despairing to
find a protector, would, on seeing that face, have said, "Here is one who
can protect me, and who will!"

Sir Philip was the first to break the silence.

"I have so many relations scattered over England, that fortunately not one
of them can venture to calculate on my property if I die childless, and
therefore not one of them can feel himself injured when, a few weeks