I know how he fomented the quarrel between his brother and me, to gain his own ends; and this son of his--this Theophilus, is a finished scoundrel! It is mortifying to the pride of an English gentleman to acknowledge such men as his successors." The old man rose from his seat, and paced the room for some time in silence.

He was so much occupied with his own reflections, that I had leisure to examine his countenance minutely.
A strong family likeness existed between him and my father, and uncle Robert; and as for me, I might have passed for his son.

He had the same high forehead, aquiline nose, chestnut curling hair, and dark piercing eyes; but his face lacked the careless, frank, good-nature of my father's, and was totally destitute of the subtle, stern demeanour of my uncle's.

The expression was more simple, and less worldly than either.

It was a thoughtful, intellectual, benevolent physiognomy, which excited feelings of confidence and affection, at first sight.
While looking at him, I thought I had known and loved him for years.
His tall commanding figure was slightly bent in the shoulders, and his hair was thickly sprinkled with grey; yet, his age could scarcely have exceeded fifty.