He opened the door, and discovered to Temple a scene which rivetted him to the spot with astonishment.
The apartment, though small, and bearing strong marks of poverty, was neat in the extreme.

In an arm-chair, his head reclined upon his hand, his eyes fixed on a book which lay open before him, sat an aged man in a Lieutenant's uniform, which, though threadbare, would sooner call a blush of shame into the face of those who could neglect real merit, than cause the hectic of confusion to glow on the cheeks of him who wore it.
Beside him sat a lovely creature busied in painting a fan mount.

She was fair as the lily, but sorrow had nipped the rose in her cheek before it was half blown.

Her eyes were blue; and her hair, which was light brown, was slightly confined under a plain muslin cap, tied round with a black ribbon; a white linen gown and plain lawn handkerchief composed the remainder of her dress; and in this simple attire, she was more irresistibly charming to such a heart as Temple's, than she would have been, if adorned with all the splendor of a courtly belle.
When they entered, the old man arose from his seat, and shaking Blakeney by the hand with great cordiality, offered Temple his chair; and there being but three in the room, seated himself on the side of his little bed with evident composure.
"This is a strange place," said he to Temple, "to receive visitors of distinction in; but we must fit our feelings to our station.

While I am not ashamed to own the cause which brought me here, why should I blush at my situation?
Our misfortunes are not our faults; and were it not for that poor girl--" Here the philosopher was lost in the father.