It was mere pride in him as an heir and successor.
Afterwards it was a _beautiful_ look his young blue eyes had.

Beautiful seems an unmasculine word for such a masculine lad, but no other word expresses it.

It was a sort of valiant brightness and joy in living and being friends with the world.

I saw it every time he came to talk to me.
I wished he were my son.

I even tried to think of him as my son." He uttered a curious low sound like a sudden groan, "My son has been killed." * * * * * When he was about to leave the house and stood in the candle-lighted hall he was thinking of many dark things which passed unformedly through his mind and made him move slowly.