He was a man transformed, and at times there was murder in his heart.

Had he been a swordsman of more than moderate skill and dared to pit himself against the Tavern Knight, blood would have been shed in Marleigh Park betwixt them.
It seemed at last as if with his insensate jealousy all the evil humours that had lain dormant in the boy were brought to the surface, to overwhelm his erstwhile virtues--if qualities that have bigotry for a parent may truly be accounted virtues.
He cast off, not abruptly, but piecemeal, those outward symbols--his sombre clothes.

First 'twas his hat he exchanged for a feather-trimmed beaver of more sightly hue; then those stiff white bands that reeked of sanctity and cant for a collar of fine point; next it was his coat that took on a worldly edge of silver lace.

And so, little by little, step by step, was the metamorphosis effected, until by the end of the week he came forth a very butterfly of fashion--a gallant, dazzling Cavalier.
Out of a stern, forbidding Covenanter he was transformed in a few days into a most outrageous fop.

He walked in an atmosphere of musk that he himself exhaled; his fair hair--that a while ago had hung so straight and limp--was now twisted into monstrous curls, a bunch of which were gathered by his right ear in a ribbon of pale blue silk.
Galliard noted the change in amazement, yet, knowing to what follies youth is driven when it woos, he accounted Cynthia responsible for it, and laughed in his sardonic way, whereat the boy would blush and scowl in one.