He was of middle height and carried himself with something of a stoop.

The eyes were small and shifting, and the mouth hard.

He wore short whiskers which, together with the eyebrows, were still tinged with yellow.

The face was ruddy and healthy looking, indeed, had it not been for the dirty white tie and shabby black coat, one would have taken him to be what he was in heart, a farmer of the harder sort, somewhat weather-beaten and anxious about the times--a man who would take advantage of every drop in the rate of wages.

In fact he was Beatrice's father, and a clergyman.
By his side, and leaning over him, was Elizabeth, her elder sister.
There was five years between them.