painting in oil

bright: I could see him plainly. His figure was enveloped in a
riding cloak, fur collared and steel clasped; its details were not
apparent, but I traced the general points of middle height and
considerable breadth of chest. He had a dark face, with stern features
and a heavy brow; his eyes and gathered eyebrows looked ireful and
thwarted just now; he was past youth, but had not reached
middle-age; perhaps he might be thirty-five. I felt no fear of him,
and but little shyness. Had he been a handsome, heroic-looking young
gentleman, I should not have dared to stand thus questioning him
against his will, and offering my services unasked. I had hardly
ever seen a handsome youth; never in my life spoken to one. I had a
theoretical reverence and homage for beauty, elegance, gallantry,
fascination; but had I met those qualities incarnate in masculine
shape, I should have known instinctively that they neither had nor
could have sympathy with anything in me, and should have shunned
them as one would fire, lightning, or anything else that is bright but
antipathetic.