She sternly shook her head.
"He was jesting then, I suppose," said I, "and here he was speaking at random—at least, I cannot believe there is any harm in those laughing blue eyes."
"False reasoning, Helen!" said she with a sigh.
"Well, we ought to be charitable, you know, aunt—besides, I don't think it is false: I am an excellent physiognomist, and I always judge of people's characters by their looks—not by whether they are handsome or ugly, but by the general cast of the countenance. For instance, I should know by your countenance that you were not of a cheerful, sanguine disposition; and I should know by Mr. Wilmot's that he was a worthless old reprobate, and by Mr. Boarham's that he was not an agreeable companion, and by Mr. Huntingdon's that he was neither a fool nor a knave, though, possibly, neither a sage nor a saint—but that is no matter to me, as I am not likely to meet him again—unless as an occasional partner in the ballroom."
