ideal of a county member,--so sleek, so staid, so business-like; yet so
clean, so neat, so much the gentleman. And now there was a kind of
pathos in his grey hairs, his nervous smile, his agitated hands, his
quick and uneasy transition of posture, the tremble of his voice. He
would have appeared to those who saw, but heard not, The Good Man in
trouble. Cold, motionless, speechless, seemingly apathetic, but in truth
observant, still reclined on the sofa, his head thrown back, but one eye
fixed on his companion, his hands clasped before him, Lord Lilburne
listened; and in that repose, about his face, even about his person,
might be read the history of how different a life and character! What
native acuteness in the stealthy eye! What hardened resolve in the full
nostril and firm lips! What sardonic contempt for all things in the
intricate lines about the mouth. What animal enjoyment of all things so
despised in that delicate nervous system, which, combined with original
vigour of constitution, yet betrayed itself in the veins on the hands and
temples, the occasional quiver of the upper lip! His was the frame above
all others the most alive to pleasure--deep-chested, compact, sinewy, but
thin to leanness--delicate in its texture and extremities, almost to
effeminacy. The indifference of the posture, the very habit of the dress
--not slovenly, indeed, but easy, loose, careless--seemed to speak of the
man's manner of thought and life--his profound disdain of externals.

Not till Beaufort had concluded did Lord Lilburne change his position or
open his lips; and then, turning to his brother-in-law his calm face, he
said drily,--

"I always thought your brother had married that woman; he was the sort of
man to do it. Besides, why should she have gone to law without a vestige
of proof, unless she was convinced of her rights? Imposture never
proceeds without some evidence. Innocence, like a fool as it is, fancies