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John Reed Scott

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The day was far spent, and before a fireplace in his private apart­ments Richard sat alone, in heavy meditation. The pale, clean-shav­en, youthful face, with its beautiful mouth and straight Norman nose, and the short, slender figure in its mantle and doublet of black velvet furred with ermine, rich under tunic of white satin, tight-fit­ting hose of silk, and dark brown hair hanging bushy to the shoul­ders, would have been almost effeminate but for the massively majestic forehead and the fierce black eyes—brilliant, compelling, stern, proud—that flashed forth the mighty soul within…