He shuffled onward as he spoke, and Hal prepared to follow him.
As he did so, he caught sight of a man within three feet of him, fastening a stare of passionate admiration upon Flora’s sweet face.
His gaze was impudent only so far as that it was fixed and steadfast He had caught sight of her countenance and had stopped short, as though he had been transfixed suddenly to the ground.
He was about forty years of age, evidently a gentleman, probably a military man, for his carriage was remarkably erect, and his upper lip—though that nowadays is no symbol of the profession of arms—was garnished with a thin, black moustache, long at the ends, and having the appearance of being perpetually manipulated by the finger and thumb of either hand.
His complexion was very dark, bearing evidence of having for years been exposed to the tender mercies of an Indian sun. His eyes were a brilliant jet and unusually large; they flashed as he moved them; his hair, which was short, was black, as were his whiskers, which were thin and polished, curling at the edges with a uniformity that spoke of irons.
His attire was plain and dark, but that of a gentleman.
He was evidently one in no common position. Hal ran his eye scrutinisingly over him, and then turned a side glance at Flora, whose face he perceived to be flushed, and its expression that of one distressed at being thus rudely stared out of countenance.
Of course, with the instincts of his youth, he felt convulsed with a jealous rage, and burned to commit himself in some wrathful and violent way.
As Flora was nearest to the stranger, and must have touched him as she passed, Hal moved her by an easy act. Setting his shoulder firm, he increased his pace, as if to follow the messenger, and came into sharp collision with the gentleman, who had not yet removed his eyes from the face of Flora.
The effect of the concussion was to thrust him back some two or three feet, while Hal passed on apparently unmoved.