His features were regular, but too relaxed: his eye was large and well cut, but the life looking out of it was a tame, vacant life--at least so I thought.
The sound of the dressing-bell dispersed the party.

It was not till after dinner that I saw him again: he then seemed quite at his ease.

But I liked his physiognomy even less than before: it struck me as being at the same time unsettled and inanimate.

His eye wandered, and had no meaning in its wandering: this gave him an odd look, such as I never remembered to have seen.

For a handsome and not an unamiable-looking man, he repelled me exceedingly: there was no power in that smooth-skinned face of a full oval shape: no firmness in that aquiline nose and small cherry mouth; there was no thought on the low, even forehead; no command in that blank, brown eye.
As I sat in my usual nook, and looked at him with the light of the girandoles on the mantelpiece beaming full over him--for he occupied an arm-chair drawn close to the fire, and kept shrinking still nearer, as if he were cold, I compared him with Mr.Rochester.