ink　I　may　presume　so　far　on　old　and　intimate　acquaintance　as　to　instal　myself　here　till　he　returns。”

His　manner　was　polite；　his　accent；　in　speaking；　struck　me　as　being　somewhat　unusual；—not　precisely　foreign；　but　still　not　altogether　English：　his　age　might　be　about　Mr。　Rochester’s；—between　thirty　and　forty；　his　plexion　was　singularly　sallow：　otherwise　he　was　a　fine…looking　man；　at　first　sight　especially。　On　closer　examination；　you　detected　something　in　his　face　that　displeased；　or　rather　that　failed　to　please。　His　features　were　regular；　but　too　relaxed：　his　eye　was　large　and　well　cut；　but　the　life　looking　out　of　it　was　a　tame；　vacant　life—at　least　so　I　thought。

The　sound　of　the　dressing…bell　dispersed　the　party。　It　was　not　till　after　dinner　that　I　saw　him　again：　he　then　seemed　quite　at　his　ease。　But　I　liked　his　physiognomy　even　less　than　before：　it　struck　me　as　being　at　the　same　time　unsettled　and　inanimate。　His　eye　wandered；　and　had　no　meaning　in　its　wandering：　this　gave　him　an　odd　look；　such　as　I　never　remembered　to　have　seen。　For　a　handsome　and　not　an　unamiable…looking　man；　he　repelled　me　exceedingly：　there　was　no　power　in　that　smooth…skinned　face　of　a　full　oval　shape：　no　firmness　in　that　aquiline　nose　and　small　cherry　mouth；　there　was　no　thought　on　the　low；　even　forehead；　no　mand　in　that　blank；　brown　eye。

As　I　sat　in　my　usual　nook；　and　looked　at　him　with　the　light　of　the　girandoles　on　the　mantelpiece　beaming　full　over　him—for　he　occupied　an　arm…chair