"Of course, I warmly disavowed all resentment and felt inwardly ashamed of having forced him, by the freedom of my advances, into making this explanation. Meanwhile, I could not help liking him better than ever, and feeling more than ever interested, not to say curious, about him. It was now certain that some mystery or other attached to him. I cast covert glances at him, in the vain attempt to read something of his secret through his outward aspect. But he was inscrutable, or rather, there was nothing especially noticeable in him. His face, as I have said, was handsome in its contours; he wore a heavy moustache and a short pointed beard on his chin. His forehead was wide across the temples, but low; and dark brown hair, rather stiff, and streaked here and there with gray, grew thickly over his head. His hands were large, and hairy up to the second joints of the fingers, but they were finely and powerfully formed, and the fingers tapered beautifully, with nails smoothly cut and polished. In figure he was above the medium size, and appeared strongly built, though he had complained to me more than once of rheumatism or some other bodily failing. In walking, he took rather short steps for a tall man, and without any swaying of the shoulders; his hands being generally thrust in the side pockets of his coat, and his face inclined towards the ground. But his eyes, large, bright, and restless, were his most remarkable feature. They appeared to take note of everything: they were seldom fixed and never introspective. Compared with the general immobility of the rest of his countenance, these eyes of Mr. Birchmore seemed to have a life of their own--and a very intense and watchful one. Whenever they met mine fully (which was but seldom, and then only for a moment at a time) I was conscious of a kind of start or thrill, as if a fine spray of icy water had swept my face. What had those eyes looked upon? or what was it that lurked behind them? "'We may run across each other again--hope we may,' said Mr. Birchmore, when he shook hands with me at parting, a few days later. 'Glad to have met you, Mr. Gainsborough--very glad, sir.' "'Thanks; I am glad to have met you. Your acquaintance has profited me not a little.' "'Oh, as to that,' said Mr. Birchmore, with a smile, and one of those startling straightforward glances into my eyes, 'as to that, the profit will have been mutual, to say the least of it. Good-bye!' III. "My route to Italy was rather a roundabout one. Instead of running down to Marseilles and so on _viâ_ Civita Vecchia to Rome, I set off eastwards, and crossed Germany, passing through Cologne, Frankfort-on-the-Main, and Nuremberg; thence I proceeded to Leipzig, and at length brought up in Dresden. It was my intention to go from there southwards through Switzerland to Venice, and thus to make my approach to the Eternal City.