hues of bliss more brightly glow
Chastised by sober tints of woe.
--GRAY

'What use shall I make of him?' said Charles to himself, as he studied
Sir Guy Morville, who sat by the table, with a book in his hand.

He had the unformed look of a growing boy, and was so slender as to
appear taller than he really was. He had an air of great activity; and
though he sat leaning back, there was no lounging in his attitude, and
at the first summons he roused up with an air of alert attention that
recalled to mind the eager head of a listening greyhound. He had no
pretension to be called handsome; his eyes were his best feature; they
were very peculiar, of a light hazel, darker towards the outside of
the iris, very brilliant, the whites tinted with blue, and the lashes
uncommonly thick and black; the eyebrows were also very dark, and of
a sharply-defined angular shape, but the hair was much lighter, loose,
soft, and wavy; the natural fairness of the complexion was shown by
the whiteness of the upper part of the forehead, though the rest of
the face, as well as the small taper hands, were tanned by sunshine and
sea-breezes, into a fresh, hardy brown, glowing with red on the cheeks.

'What use shall I make of him?' proceeded Charles's thoughts. 'He
won't be worth his salt if he goes on in this way; he has got a graver
specimen of literature there than I ever saw Philip himself read on
a week-day; he has been puritanized till he is good for nothing; I'll
trouble myself no more about him!' He tried to read, but presently
looked up again. 'Plague! I can't keep my thoughts off him. That sober
look does not sit on that sun-burnt face as if it were native to it;
those eyes don't look as if the Redclyffe spirit was extinguished.'

Mrs. Edmonstone came in, and looking round, as if to find some
occupation for her guest, at length devised setting him to play at chess
with Charles. Charles gave her an amiable look, expressing that neither
liked it; but she was pretty well used to doing him good against his
will, and trusted to its coming right in time. Charles was a capital
chess-player, and seldom found any one who could play well enough to
afford him much real sport, but he found Sir Guy more nearly a match
than often fell to his lot; it was a bold dashing game, that obliged
him to be on his guard, and he was once so taken by surprise as to be
absolutely check-mated. His ill-humour evaporated, he wa