His young boyish face had grown grave; there was a striking dignity and weight in his look and manner, which suddenly aroused in Catherine the sense that she was speaking to a man of distinction, accustomed to deal on equal terms with the large things of life.

She raised her eyes to him for a moment, and he saw in them a beautiful, mystical light--responsive, lofty, full of soul.
The next moment, it apparently struck her sharply that their conversation was becoming incongruous with its surroundings.

Behind them Mrs.Thornburgh was bustling about with candies and music-stools, preparing for a performance on the flute by Mr.Mayhew, the black-browed vicar of Shanmoor, and the room seemed to be pervaded by Mrs.Seaton's strident voice.

Her strong natural reserve asserted itself, and her face settled again into the slight rigidity of expression characteristic of it.

She rose and prepared to move farther into the room.
'We must listen,' she said to him, smiling, over her shoulder.
And she left him, settling herself by the side of Mrs.Leyburn.He had a momentary sense of rebuff.