Altogether, the outlook for the missionary was not encouraging. With
the single exception of the Muirs, who really counted for little, nobody
wanted him. To most of the reckless young bloods of the Company of the
Noble Seven his presence was an offence; to others simply a nuisance,
while the Old Timer regarded his advent with something like dismay; and
now Hi's impression of his personal appearance was not cheering.
My first sight of him did not reassure me. He was very slight, very
young, very innocent, with a face that might do for an angel, except for
the touch of humor in it, but which seemed strangely out of place among
the rough, hard faces that were to be seen in the Swan Creek Country.
It was not a weak face, however. The forehead was high and square, the
mouth firm, and the eyes were luminous, of some dark color--violet, if
there is such a color in eyes--dreamy or sparkling, according to
his mood; eyes for which a woman might find use, but which, in a
missionary's head, appeared to me one of those extraordinary wastes of
which Nature is sometimes guilty.
He was gazing far away into space infinitely beyond the Foothills and
the blue line of the mountains behind them. He turned to me as I drew
near, with eyes alight and face glowing.
"It is glorious," he almost panted.
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