Mr.Kent looked at the tear-stained face; the untidy brown head scarcely reached to the table, and the good magistrate thought, with something like pain at his heart, of a fair-haired boy at home.

So he spoke kindly to the poor, trembling prisoner, and while he strongly reprimanded, still encouraged him to better ways.

The boy was removed, and then Mr.Kent was puzzled by the prisoner who took his place.
A tall, handsome young man, apparently not more than twenty, with a clear-cut aristocratic face, and luminous dark gray eyes.

A face that no one could look into without admiration--that irresistibly attracted man, woman and child.

He was a gentleman--there could be no mistake about it.
That clear-cut Norman face had descended to him from a long line of ancestors; the well-built, manly figure, with its peculiar easy grace and dignity told of ancient lineage and noble birth.
His hands were white, slender and strong, with almond-shaped nails--hands that had never been soiled with labor, and surely never stained with crime.
He carried his handsome head high; it was proudly set on a firm, graceful neck, and covered with clusters of dark hair.