I read in it no common mastery of the passions, and a fund of deep and healthy strength which, without any exhausting effort, bore down Disappointment and extracted her fang.

His manner, now, reminded me of qualities I had noticed in him when professionally engaged amongst the poor, the guilty, and the suffering, in the Basse-Ville: he looked at once determined, enduring, and sweet-tempered.

Who could help liking him?
_He_ betrayed no weakness which harassed all your feelings with considerations as to how its faltering must be propped; from _him_ broke no irritability which startled calm and quenched mirth; _his_ lips let fall no caustic that burned to the bone; _his_ eye shot no morose shafts that went cold, and rusty, and venomed through your heart: beside him was rest and refuge--around him, fostering sunshine.
And yet he had neither forgiven nor forgotten Miss Fanshawe.

Once angered, I doubt if Dr.Bretton were to be soon propitiated--once alienated, whether he were ever to be reclaimed.

He looked at her more than once; not stealthily or humbly, but with a movement of hardy, open observation.