My dear father insisted always--But oh, Suan, Suan, he is dead--I am almost sure of it." "Him old man quite dead enough, and big hole dug in the land for him.
Very good; more good than could be.

Suan no more Inglese." Well as I had known it long, a catching of the breath and hollow, helpless pain came through me, to meet in dry words thus the dread which might have been but a hovering dream.

I turned my face to the wall, and begged her not to send the master in.
But presently a large, firm hand was laid on my shoulder softly, and turning sharply round, I beheld an elderly man looking down at me.

His face was plain and square and solid, with short white curls on a rugged forehead, and fresh red cheeks, and a triple chin--fit base for remarkably massive jaws.

His frame was in keeping with his face, being very large and powerful, though not of my father's commanding height.
His dress and appearance were those of a working--and a really hard-working--man, sober, steadfast, and self-respecting; but what engaged my attention most was the frank yet shrewd gaze of deep-set eyes.