But drought and famine and long fatigue had failed even now to change or weaken the fine expression of his large, sad eyes.

Those eyes alone would have made the face remarkable among ten thousand, so deep with settled gloom they were, and dark with fatal sorrow.

Such eyes might fitly have told the grief of Adrastus, son of Gordias, who, having slain his own brother unwitting, unwitting slew the only son of his generous host and savior.
The pale globe of the sun hung trembling in the haze himself had made.
My father rose to see the last, and reared his tall form upright against the deepening background.

He gazed as if the course of life lay vanishing below him, while level land and waters drew the breadth of shadow over them.

Then the last gleam flowed and fled upon the face of ocean, and my father put his dry lips to my forehead, saying nothing.
His lips might well be dry, for he had not swallowed water for three days; but it frightened me to feel how cold they were, and even tremulous.