some rings, shirt studs, long hair, and the
like; nor could he help, in his costume or his nature, being
picturesque, generous, and splendid. Silver dressing cases and brocade
morning gowns were in him a sort of propriety at this season of his
youth. It was a pleasure to persons of colder temperament to sun
themselves in the warmth of his bright looks and generous humour. His
laughter cheered one like wine. I do not know that he was very witty;
but he was pleasant. He was prone to blush; the history of a generous
trait moistened his eyes instantly. He was instinctively fond of
children and of the other sex from one year old to eighty. Coming from
the Derby once and being stopped on the road in a lock of carriages
during which the people in a carriage ahead saluted us with many
insulting epithets, and seized the heads of our leaders, Clive in a
twinkling jumped off the box, and the next minute we saw him engaged
with a half dozen of the enemy: his hat gone, his fair hair falling off
his face, his blue eyes flashing fire, his lips and nostrils quivering
with wrath. His father sat back in the carriage looking on with delight
and wonder while a policeman separated the warriors. Clive ascended the
box again, with his coat gashed from waist to shoulder. I hardly ever
saw the elder Newcome in such a state of triumph.

While we have been making this sketch of Clive, Ethel was standing
looking at him, and the blushing youth cast down his eyes before hers
while her face assumed a look of arch humour. And now let us have a
likeness of Ethel. She was seventeen years old; rather taller than the
majority of girls; her face somewhat grave and haughty, but on occasion
brightening with humour or beaming with kindliness and affection. Too
quick to detect affectation or insincerity in others, too impatient of
dulness or pomposity, she was more sarcastic now than she became when
after-years of suffering had softened her nature. Truth looked out of her
bright eyes, and rose up armed and flashed scorn or denial when she
encountered flattery or meanness or imposture.

But those who had no cause to fear her keenness or her coldness admired
her beauty; nor could the famous Parisian model whom Clive said she
resembled be more perfect in form than this young lady. Her hair and
eyebrows were jet black, but her complexion was dazzlingly fair and her
cheeks as red as those belonging by right to a blonde. In her black hair
there was a slight natural