I never knew a character that was
both explosive and revengeful to the same degree; he combined the
vivacity of the south with the sustained and deadly hatreds of the
north; and both traits were plainly written on his face, which was
a sort of danger signal. In person he was tall, strong, and
active; his hair and complexion very dark; his features handsomely
designed, but spoiled by a menacing expression.
At that moment he was somewhat paler than by nature; he wore a
heavy frown; and his lips worked, and he looked sharply round him
as he walked, like a man besieged with apprehensions. And yet I
thought he had a look of triumph underlying all, as though he had
already done much, and was near the end of an achievement.
Partly from a scruple of delicacy - which I dare say came too late
- partly from the pleasure of startling an acquaintance, I desired
to make my presence known to him without delay.
I got suddenly to my feet, and stepped forward. "Northmour!" said
I.
I have never had so shocking a surprise in all my days. He leaped
on me without a word; something shone in his hand; and he struck
for my heart with a dagger. At the same moment I knocked him head
over heels. Whether it was my quickness, or his own uncertainty, I
know not; but the blade only grazed my shoulder, while the hilt and
his fist struck me violently on the mouth.
I fled, but not far.
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