He had all the impulses and enthusiasms of a poet, all the thirst for excitement of the adventurer, all the latent patriotism of the true Celt; but his life was undisciplined, and he had not ordered his spirit into compartments of faith and hope.

He had gifts.

They were gifts only to be borne by those who had ambitions.
Now, as he looked out upon the scene where nature was showing herself at her best, some glimmer of a great future came to him.

He did not know which way his feet were destined to travel in the business of life.

It was too late to join the navy; but there was still time enough to be a soldier, or to learn to be a lawyer.
As he gazed upon the scene, his wonderful deep blue eyes, his dark brown hair thick upon his head, waving and luxuriant like a fine mattress, his tall, slender, alert figure, his bony, capable hands, which neither sun nor wind ever browned, his nervous yet interesting mouth, and his long Roman nose, set in a complexion rich in its pink-and-cream hardness and health--all this made him a figure good to see.
Suddenly, as he listened to the lark singing overhead, with his face lifted to the sky, he heard a human voice singing; and presently there ran up a little declivity to his left a girl--an Irish girl of about seventeen years of age.
Her hat was hanging on her arm by a green ribbon.