He was more like his brother than ever, as he sat down in the chair to submit himself to Lucilla's investigation.

She had produced, at first sight--as well as I could judge--some impression on him for which he had not been prepared; causing some mental disturbance in him which he was for the moment quite unable to control.

His eyes looked up at her, spell-bound; his color came and went; his breath quickened audibly when her fingers touched his face.
"What's the matter ?" said Oscar, looking at him in surprise.
"Nothing is the matter," he answered, in the low absent tone of a man whose mind was secretly pursuing its own train of thought.
Oscar said no more.

Once, twice, three times, Lucilla's hand passed slowly over Nugent's face.

He submitted to it, silently, gravely, immovably--a perfect contrast to the talkative, lively young man of half an hour since.