Even dress tells a tale to those who study it so closely as he did, being an illuminator.

The old man wore a gown, and a fur tippet, and a velvet cap, sure signs of dignity; but the triangular purse at his girdle was lean, the gown rusty, the fur worn, sure signs of poverty.

The young woman was dressed in plain russet cloth: yet snow-white lawn covered that part of her neck the gown left visible, and ended half way up her white throat in a little band of gold embroidery; and her head-dress was new to Gerard: instead of hiding her hair in a pile of linen or lawn, she wore an open network of silver cord with silver spangles at the interstices: in this her glossy auburn hair was rolled in front into two solid waves, and supported behind in a luxurious and shapely mass.

His quick eye took in all this, and the old man's pallor, and the tears in the young woman's eyes.

So when he had passed them a few yards, he reflected, and turned back, and came towards them bashfully.
"Father, I fear you are tired." "Indeed, my son, I am," replied the old man, "and faint for lack of food." Gerard's address did not appear so agreeable to the girl as to the old man.