Munro was a dull man in all matters that belong to the heart, and those impulses which characterize souls of intelligence and ambition.

He observed the manner of his companion, but said nothing in relation to it; and the latter, unable to conceal altogether, or to suppress even partially his emotions, did not deign to enter into any explanation in regard to them.
"Does he suspect anything yet, Guy, think you ?--have you seen anything which might sanction a thought that he knew or conjectured more than he should ?" inquired Munro, anxiously.
"I will not say that he does, but he has the perception of a lynx--he is an apt man, and his eyes have been more frequently upon me to-day than I altogether relish or admire.

It is true, mine were upon him--as how, indeed, if death were in the look, could I have kept them off! I caught his glance frequently; turning upon me with that stern, still expression, indifferent and insolent--as if he cared not even while he surveyed.

I remember that glance three years ago, when he was indeed a boy--I remembered it when, but a few days since, he struck me to the earth, and would have ridden me to death with the hoofs of his horse, but for your timely appearance." "It may be as you believe, Guy; but, as I saw nothing in his manner or countenance affording ground for such a belief, I can not but conceive it to have been because of the activity of your suspicions that you discovered his.

I did not perceive that he looked upon you with more curiosity than upon any other at table; though, if he had done so, I should by no means have been disposed to wonder; for at this time, and since your face has been so tightly bandaged, you have a most villanously attractive visage.