There in that delicate half-sarcastic tracery of the nostril I detected the intellectual defiance which had politically isolated Silas Ruthyn and opposed him to the landed oligarchy of his county, whose retaliation had been a hideous slander.

There, too, and on his brows and lip, I traced the patience of a cold disdain.

I could now see him as he was--the prodigal, the hero, and the martyr.

I stood gazing on him with a girlish interest and admiration.

There was indignation, there was pity, there was hope.