"A friend!" he said, drawing his breath.
"Save for this Quaker family, I have had no friend for many a year! And I cannot talk to them of honor and warfare and the wide world." His speech was sombre, but in his eyes there was an eagerness not without pathos.
The mood of the Gael chimed with the present mood of the Saxon.

As unlike in their natures as their histories, men would have called them; and yet, far away, in dim recesses of the soul, at long distances from the flesh, each recognised the other.

And it was an evening, too, in which to take care of other things than the ways and speech of every day.

The heat, the hush, and the stillness appeared well-nigh preternatural.

A sadness breathed over the earth; all things seemed new and yet old; across the spectral river the dim plains beneath the afterglow took the seeming of battlefields.
"A friend!" said Haward.