The traveller was a man of about thirty, tall, broad-shouldered, with long
arms, and powerful-looking hands, ungloved, and bronzed a little by sun and
wind. There was the same healthy bronze upon his face, Clarissa perceived,
when he took off his hat, and hung it up above him; rather a handsome face,
with a long straight nose, dark blue eyes with thick brown eyebrows, a well
cut mouth and chin, and a thick thatch of crisp dark brown hair waving
round a broad, intelligent-looking forehead. The firm, full upper lip was
half-hidden by a carefully trained moustache; and in his dress and bearing
the stranger had altogether a military air: one could fancy him a cavalry
soldier. That bare muscular hand seemed made to grasp the massive hilt of a
sabre.

His expression was grave--grave and a little proud, Clarissa thought;
and, unused as she was to lonely wanderings in this outer world, she felt
somehow that this man was a gentleman, and that she need be troubled by no
fear that he would make is presence in any way unpleasant to her, let their
journey together last as long as it would.

She sank back into her corner with a feeling of relief. It would have been
more agreeable for her to have had the carriage to herself; but if she must
needs have a companion, there was nothing obnoxious in this one.

For about an hour they sped on in silence. This evening train was not
exactly an express, but it was a tolerably quick train, and the stoppages
were not frequent. The dull gray twilight melted into a fair tranquil
night. The moon rose early; and the quiet English landscape seemed very
fair to Clarissa Lovel in that serene light. She watched the shadowy fields
flitting past; here and there a still pool, or a glimpse of running water;
beyond, the sombre darkness of wooded hills; and above that dark background
a calm starry sky. Who shall say what dim poetic thoughts were in her mind