And in every step and word and gesture I recognized that foreign grace which true-born Britons are proud to despise on both sides of the Atlantic.

And, being in the light, I watched him well, because I am not a foreigner.
In the clear summer light of the westering sun (which is better for accurate uses than the radiance of the morning) I saw a firm, calm face, which might in good health have been powerful--a face which might be called the moonlight image of my father's.

I could not help turning away to cry, and suspicion fled forever.
"My dear young cousin," he said, as soon as I was fit to speak to, "your father trusted me, and so must you.

You may think that I have forgotten you, or done very little to find you out.

It was no indifference, no forgetfulness: I have not been able to work myself, and I have had very deep trouble of my own." He leaned on his staff, and looked down at me, for I had sat down when thus overcome, and I knew that the forehead and eyes were those of a learned and intellectual man.