markable for
nothing except a pair of dreamy eyes which could at times give sign
of inward lightnings. His hair was lank; his figure was attenuated and
ungraceful; he wore his clothes awkwardly. He was commonly supposed
to be sulky, and some people thought his tone of voice bumptious and
insolent. He was far from being a favourite, but those who knew him
best liked him best, which is a good sign about a man. Everybody was
compelled to admit that he was a well-conducted young man enough, and on
Sundays he played the harmonium gratis at the little Independent
chapel in which that pious and simple pair, his father and mother,
had worshipped till their last illness. Over this instrument
Christopher--let me admit it--made wonderful eyes, sweeping the ceiling
with a glance of rapture, and glaring through the boarders at the
ladies' school (who sat in the front of the gallery) with orbs which
seemed to see not. The young ladies were a little afraid of him, and
his pallor and loneliness, and the very reputation he had for oddity,
enlisted the sympathies of some of them.

Whatever tender flutterings might disturb the bosoms of the young ladies
in the galleries, Christopher cared not. His heart was fixed on Barbara.

Barbara, who surely deserves a paragraph to herself, was provokingly
pretty, to begin with, and she had a fascinating natural way which made
young men and young women alike unhappy. She bubbled over--pardon this
kitchen simile--with unaffected gaiety; she charmed, she bewitched, she
delighted, she made angry and bewitched again. The young ladies very
naturally saw nothing in her, but a certain pert forwardness of which
themselves would not be guilty, though it should bring a world of young
gentlemen sighing to their feet. Barbara was nineteen, and she had
a voice which for gaiety and sweetness was like that of a throstle.
Christopher had himself taught her to sing. His own voice was
cacophonous and funereal, and it was droll to hear him solemnly phrasing
'I will enchant thine ear' for the instruction of his enchantress.
But he was a good master, and Barbara prospered under him, and added a
professional finish and exactness to her natural graces. She lived alone
with an old uncle who had sold everything to buy an annuity, and she had
no expectations from anybody.

Christopher had no expectations either, except of a stiff struggle with
the world, but the two young people loved each other, and, having their
choice of