When Nora Rowley made those comparisons between Mr Hugh Stanbury and Mr Charles Glascock, they were always wound up very much in favour of the briefless barrister.  It was not that he was the handsomer man, for he was by no means handsome, nor was he the bigger man, for Mr Glascock was six feet tall; nor was he better dressed, for Stanbury was untidy rather than otherwise in his outward person.  Nor had he any air of fashion or special grace to recommend him, for he was undoubtedly an awkward-mannered man.  But there was a glance of sunshine in his eye, and a sweetness in the curl of his mouth when he smiled, which made Nora feel that it would have been all up with her had she not made so very strong a law for her own guidance.  Stanbury was a man about five feet ten, with shoulders more than broad in proportion, stout limbed, rather awkward of his gait, with large feet and hands, with soft wavy light hair, with light grey eyes, with a broad, but by no means ugly, nose.  His mouth and lips were large, and he rarely showed his teeth.  He wore no other beard than whiskers, which he was apt to cut away through heaviness of his hand in shaving, till Nora longed to bid him be more careful.  ’He doesn’t care what sort of a guy he makes of himself, she once said to her sister, almost angrily.  ’He is a plain man, and he knows it,’ Emily had replied.  Mr Trevelyan was doubtless a handsome man, and it was almost on Nora’s tongue to say something ill-natured on the subject.  Hugh Stanbury was reputed to be somewhat hot in spirit and manner.  He would be very sage in argument, pounding down his ideas on politics, religion, or social life with his fist as well as his voice.  He was quick, perhaps, at making antipathies, and quick, too, in making friendships; impressionable, demonstrative, eager, rapid in his movements sometimes to the great detriment of his shins and knuckles; and he possessed the sweetest temper that was ever given to a man for the blessing of a woman.  This was the man between whom and Mr Glascock Nora Rowley found it to be impossible not to make comparisons.

On the very day after Lady Milborough’s dinner party Stanbury overtook Trevelyan in the street, and asked his friend where he was going eastward.  Trevelyan was on his way to call upon his lawyer, and said so.  But he did not say why he was going to his lawyer.  He had sent to his wife by Nora that morning to know whether she would make to him the promise he required.  The only answer which Nora could draw from her sister was a counter question, demanding whether he would ask her pardon for the injury he had done her.  Nora had been most eager, most anxious, most conciliatory as a messenger; but no good had come of these messages, and Trevelyan had gone forth to tell all his trouble to his family lawyer.  Old Mr Bideawhile had been his father’s ancient and esteemed friend, and he could tell things to Mr Bideawhile which he could not bring himself to tell to any other living man; and he could generally condescend to accept Mr Bideawhile’s advice, knowing that his father before him had been guided by the same.