gs are well when you are happy."

Deruchette carried away the stockings, and took advantage of the
opportunity to remove also the compass and the ship's papers which
Lethierry had been brooding over too long.

In the afternoon, a little before tea-time, the door opened and two
strangers entered, attired in black. One was old, the other young.

The young one has, perhaps, already been observed in the course of this
story.

The two men had each a grave air; but their gravity appeared different.
The old man possessed what might be called state gravity; the gravity of
the young man was in his nature. Habit engenders the one; thought the
other.

They were, as their costume indicated, two clergymen, each belonging to
the Established Church.

The first fact in the appearance of the younger man which might have
first struck the observer was, that his gravity, though conspicuous in
the expression of his features, and evidently springing from the mind,
was not indicated by his person. Gravity is not inconsistent with
passion, which it exalts by purifying it; but the idea of gravity could
with difficulty be associated with an exterior remarkable above all for
personal beauty. Being in holy orders, he must have been at least
four-and-twenty, but he seemed scarcely more than eighteen. He possessed
those gifts at once in harmony with, and in opposition to, each other. A
soul which seemed created for exalted passion, and a body created for
love. He was fair, rosy-fresh, slim, and elegant in his severe attire,
and he had the cheeks of a young girl, and delicate hands. His movements
were natural and lively, though subdued. Everything about him was
pleasing, elegant, almost voluptuous. The beauty of his expression
served to correct this excess of personal attraction. His open smile,
which showed his teeth, regular and white as those of a child, had
something in it pensive, even devotional. He had the gracefulness of a
page, mingled with the dignity of a bishop.

His fair hair, so fair and golden as to be almost effeminate, clustered
over his white forehead, which was high and well-formed. A slight double
line between the eyebrows awakened associations with studious thought.

Those who saw him felt themselves in the presence of one of those
natures, benevolent, innocent, and pure, whose progress is in inverse
sense with that of vulgar minds; natures whom illusion renders wise, and
whom experience makes enthusiasts.

His older c