He stood patting his forehead with his pocket-handkerchief; he was very much flushed; his face wore a singular expression.
"Yes, sir, you had better consent," Mr.Brand repeated, coming forward.
"I know what Miss Gertrude means." "My dear friend!" murmured Felix, laying his hand caressingly on the young minister's arm.
Mr.Brand looked at him; then at Mr.Wentworth; lastly at Gertrude.

He did not look at Charlotte.

But Charlotte's earnest eyes were fastened to his own countenance; they were asking an immense question of it.
The answer to this question could not come all at once; but some of the elements of it were there.

It was one of the elements of it that Mr.
Brand was very red, that he held his head very high, that he had a bright, excited eye and an air of embarrassed boldness--the air of a man who has taken a resolve, in the execution of which he apprehends the failure, not of his moral, but of his personal, resources.

Charlotte thought he looked very grand; and it is incontestable that Mr.Brand felt very grand.