His eye constantly seeks hers; and when he speaks to her, the mechanical smile which greets every body else is replaced by a kind of indescribable, touching appeal for forgiveness.

It is conveyed in no particular thing that he says or does, but it pervades his whole intercourse with her.

As Gabriel and Ellen grow up toward maturity, Mrs.
Bennet observes that the same peculiarity is stealing into his manner toward them.

It is as if he were involuntarily asking pardon for some great wrong that he has unconsciously done them.

And yet his mildness, and sweetness, and simplicity of nature are such, that this singular manner does not disturb the universal cheerfulness.
"You look a little tired to-night, father," says Gabriel, when they are all seated in the front room again, by the table, with the lamp lighted.
"Yes," replies the father, who sits upon the sofa, with his wife by his side--"yes; Mr.Van Boozenberg was very angry to-day about some error he thought he had discovered, and he was quite short with us book-keepers, and spoke rather sharply." A slight flush passes over Mr.Bennet's face, as if he recalled something extremely disagreeable.