Fitzpiers was, on the whole, a finely formed, handsome man. His eyes

were dark and impressive, and beamed with the light either of energy or

of susceptivity--it was difficult to say which; it might have been a

little of both. That quick, glittering, practical eye, sharp for the

surface of things and for nothing beneath it, he had not. But whether

his apparent depth of vision was real, or only an artistic accident of

his corporeal moulding, nothing but his deeds could reveal.

His face was rather soft than stern, charming than grand, pale than

flushed; his nose--if a sketch of his features be de rigueur for a

person of his pretensions--was artistically beautiful enough to have

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been worth doing in marble by any sculptor not over-busy, and was hence

devoid of those knotty irregularities which often mean power; while the

double-cyma or classical curve of his mouth was not without a looseness

in its close. Nevertheless, either from his readily appreciative mien,

or his reflective manner, or the instinct towards profound things which

was said to possess him, his presence bespoke the philosopher rather

than the dandy or macaroni--an effect which was helped by the absence

of trinkets or other trivialities from his attire, though this was more

finished and up to date than is usually the case among rural

practitioners.

Strict people of the highly respectable class, knowing a little about

him by report, might have said that he seemed likely to err rather in

the possession of too many ideas than too few; to be a dreamy 'ist of

some sort, or too deeply steeped in some false kind of 'ism. However

this may be, it will be seen that he was undoubtedly a somewhat rare

kind of gentleman and doctor to have descended, as from the clouds,

upon Little Hintock.

"This is an extraordinary case," he said at last to Winterborne, after

examining South by conversation, look, and touch, and learning that the

craze about the elm was stronger than ever. "Come down-stairs, and I'll

tell you what I think."

They accordingly descended, and the doctor continued, "The tree must be

cut down, or I won't answer for his life."

"'Tis Mrs. Charmond's tree, and I suppose we must get permission?" said

Giles. "If so, as she is gone away, I must speak to her agent."

"Oh--never mind whose tree it is--what's a tree beside a life! Cut it

down. I have not the honor of knowing Mrs. Charmond as yet, but I am

disposed to risk that much with her."

"'Tis timber," rejoined Giles, more scrupulous than he would have been

had not his own interests stood so closely involved. "They'll never

fell a stick about here without it being marked first, either by her or

the agent."




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