The face that wore such evidence of trouble was a handsome one enough, though just now all the charm of youth seemed to have faded from it.

It was dark and strong, nor was it difficult to guess that in after-life it might become stern.

The form also was shapely and athletic, though not very tall, giving promise of more than common strength, and the bearing that of a gentleman who had not brought himself up to the belief that ancient blood can cover modern deficiencies of mind and manner.

Such was the outward appearance of Leonard Outram as he was then, in his twenty-third year.
While Leonard watched and hesitated on the roadway, unable, apparently, to make up his mind to pass those iron gates, and yet desirous of doing so, carts and carriages began to appear hurrying down the avenue towards him.
"I suppose that the sale is over," he muttered to himself.

"Well, like death, it is a good thing to have done with." Then he turned to go; but hearing the crunch of wheels close at hand, stepped back into the shadow of the gateway pillar, fearing lest he should be recognised on the open road.