But in his countenance I saw a change: that looked desperate and brooding- that reminded me of some wronged and fettered wild beast or bird，dangerous to approach in his sullen woe. The caged eagle，whose gold-ringed eyes cruelty has extinguished，might look as looked that sightless Samson.

And，reader，do you think I feared him in his blind ferocity?- if you do，you little know me. A soft hope blent with my sorrow that soon I should dare to drop a kiss on that brow of rock，and on those lips so sternly sealed beneath it: but not yet. I would not accost him yet.

He descended the one step，and advanced slowly and gropingly towards the grass-plat. Where was his daring stride now? Then he paused，as if he knew not which way to turn. He lifted his hand and opened his eyelids; gazed blank，and with a straining effort，on the sky，and toward the amphitheatre of trees: one saw that all to him was void darkness. He stretched his right hand (the left arm，the mutilated one，he kept hidden in his bosom); he seemed to wish by touch to gain an idea of what lay around him: he met but vacancy still; for the trees were some yards off where he stood. He relinquished the endeavour，folded his arms，and stood quiet and mute in the rain，now falling fast on his uncovered head. At this moment John approached him from some quarter.

"Will you take my arm，sir?" he said; "there is a heavy shower ing on: had you not better go in?"