The calm clerical man; all the more terrible then because of his calmness; standing there with his cold stinging words, and his unhappy culprit facing him, conscious of his heinous sins--the worst sin of all: that of being found out.
"Others have done so much before me, sir, and have not made the less good men," spoke Val, in his desperation.
Dr.Ashton could not help admiring the man, as he stood there in his physical beauty.

In spite of his inward anger, his condemnation, his disappointment--and they were all very great--the good looks of Percival Elster struck him forcibly with a sort of annoyance: why should these men be so outwardly fair, so inwardly frail?
Those good looks had told upon his daughter's heart; and they all loved _her_, and could not bear to cause her pain.

Tall, supple, graceful, strong, towering nearly a head above the doctor, he stood, his pleasing features full of the best sort of attraction, his violet eyes rather wider open than usual, the waves of his silken hair smooth and bright.

"If he were only half as fair in conduct as in looks!" muttered the grieved divine.
But those violet eyes, usually beaming with kindness, suddenly changed their present expression of depreciation to one of rage.

Dr.Ashton gave a pretty accurate description of how the crisis had been brought to his knowledge--that Lord Hartledon had come to the Rectory, with his mistaken assailant, to be identified; and Percival Elster's anger was turned against his brother.