melancholy expression of countenance, approaching
even to the stern, when at rest; though sufficiently animated and
earnest when engaged in conversation, or otherwise excited. His features
were regular, delicately formed, and might be characterized as
singularly handsome, were it not for a want of roundness in the contour
of the face which gave the lineaments a thin, worn look, totally
distinct, however, from haggardness or emaciation. The nose was delicate
and fine; the nostril especially so; the upper lip was short, curling,
graceful, and haughtily expressive. As to complexion, his skin had a
truly Spanish warmth and intensity of coloring. His figure, when raised,
was tall and masculine, and though slight, exhibited great personal
vigor.

We will now turn to his companion, the old man with the great gray
glittering eyes. Peter Bradley, of Rookwood--comitatu Ebor--, where he
had exercised the vocation of sexton for the best part of a life already
drawn out to the full span ordinarily allotted to mortality, was an odd
caricature of humanity. His figure was lean, and almost as lank as a
skeleton. His bald head reminded one of a bleached skull, allowing for
the overhanging and hoary brows. Deep-seated, and sunken within their
sockets, his gray orbs gleamed with intolerable lustre. Few could endure
his gaze; and, aware of his power, Peter seldom failed to exercise it.
He had likewise another habit, which, as it savored of insanity, made
him an object of commiseration with some, while it rendered him yet more
obnoxious to others. The habit we allude to, was the indulgence of wild
screaming laughter at times when all merriment should be checked; and
when the exhibition of levity must proceed from utter disregard of human
grief and suffering, or from mental alienation.

Wearied with the prolonged silence, Peter at length condescended to
speak. His voice was harsh and grating as a rusty hinge.

"Another glass?" said he, pouring out a modicum of the pale fluid.

His companion shook his head.

"It will keep out the cold," continued the sexton, pressing the liquid
upon him: "and you, who are not so much accustomed as I am to the damps
of a vault, may suffer from them. Besides," added he, sneeringly, "it
will give you courage."

His companion answered not. But the flash of his eye resented the
implied reproach.

"Nay, never stare at me so hard, Luke," continued the sexton; "I doubt
neither your courage nor your firmness.