None, outside
his immediate family circle, had ever known the curtness of his speech
to be softened unless in sarcasm; and his habitual expression was one of
haughty tolerance.
His friends feared him, even as they respected him, for if he had the
faults of his race, he also possessed its great virtue--justice. No man,
prince or peasant, friend or foe, ever appealed to Lord Barminster for
that in vain.
Now, in the clear brightness of the spring morning he paced to and fro
on the south terrace.
Behind him glittered the long French windows of the morning-room, one of
which stood open, revealing the luxury of the room beyond; the table
with its silver and delicate china service, and the purple hangings of
the walls.
Presently he stopped in his stroll and turned his stern eyes towards the
landscape stretching beneath him. Through the confusion of the dark
woods there lay a long line of turf, cut here and there by formidable
hedges, and divided by a streak of glittering silver, which was in
reality a dangerous stream--indeed, higher up it became a
torrent--forming the final obstacle of the Barminster steeple-course.
Pages:
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86