“He was, in short, in his after-dinner mood; more expanded and genial, and also more self-indulgent than the frigid and rigid temper of the morning: sill, he looked precariously grim, cushioning his massive head against the swelling back of his chair, and receiving the light of the fire on his granite-hewn features, in his great, dark eyes—for he had great, dark eyes, and very fine eyes, too; not without a certain change in their depths sometimes, which, if it was not softness, reminded you, at least, of that feeling.”