Some  such  thought  was  lurking  in  the  background
of  Wotton's  mind  ;  but  Walter's  thoughts  seemed  not
of  war,  for  nothing  could  be  friendlier  and  gayer  than
the  temper  he  showed.  Dorothy  alone  glanced  at  him
now  and  then,  as  if  she  had  observed  the  effect  of  his
entrance,  and  not  forgotten  it ;  as  if  she  suspected
somewhat.     To  Wotton,  again,  deeply  as  he  reckoned


WOTTON   RETNFRED  109

himself  entitled  to  detest  and  dread  this  "Walter,  there
was  a  singular  dominion  in  his  presence ;  a  power
which,  whether  it  were  benignant  or  the  contrary,
you  could  not  but  in  part  respect.  He  seemed  a  man
of  thirty,  mihtary  in  his  air  rather  than  his  dress ;  his
compact,  sinewy  frame  impressed  you  in  its  soldier-
like repose  with  an  idea  of  strength  beyond  his
stature,  which,  however,  was  tall  and  portly;  while
the  thick  black  locks  clustering  in  careless  profusion
round  that  face,  so  still  and  massive,  burnt  by  many
suns  ;  the  broad  brow ;  the  calm,  quick  eyes,  fearless,
not  defiant ;  the  lips,  firm  without  effort,  and  curved
in  manifold  yet  scarce  perceptible  expression :  all
bespoke  a  character  of  singular  vehemence  and  vigour,
a  striking  union  of  passionate  force  with  the  strictest
self-control.  Yet  this  self-control  did  not  invite  you,
but  rather  silently  beckoned  you  away ;  for  this,  too,
seemed  passionate,  the  result  not  of  love,  but  of  pride ;
not  of  principle,  but  of  calculation  ;  its  very  strength
seemed  dangerous.  You  would  have  said,  the  man
had  lived  in  wild  perils  and  wild  pleasures ;  mingling
stormfully  in  both,  but  surrendering  himself  to
neither  ;  acting  among  multitudes,  nay,  rulmg  over
them,  yet  apart  and  alone  when  in  the  midst  of
them ;  it  was  as  if  no  difficulty  could  discompose
him,  no  danger  make  him  tremble,  but,  also,  no  pity
make  him  weep.  To  Wotton  there  was  something
alienating  and  oppressive  in  this  look  of  quietude,  of
sufficiency,  and  unsuffering  isolation ;    he  gazed  on


110  WOTTON  REINFEED

the  man,  sitting  there,  thrown  negligently  backwards,
speaking  with  such  vividness  and  penetration,  yet  so
cool,  so  indifferent ;  and  there  were  moments  when,  had
it  not  been  for  a  softer  gleam,  perhaps  of  sorrow,  now
and  then  blending  in  the  steady  fire  of  those  dark
eyes,  he  could  almost  have  fancied  him  a  man  molten
out  of  bronze.
