midnight
The lofty forehead , white and smooth , the somewhat heavy brows matching the hue of the hair , the straight , finely-formed nose with its delicate but clearly defined nostril , the full firm lips unshaded by moustache , combined to render the face one of uncommon beauty . Yet , as he sat absorbed by his figures , there was nothing prepossessing or winning in his appearance , for though you could not carp at the moulding of his features , you involuntarily shrank from the prematurely grave , nay , austere expression which seemed habitual to them . He looked just what he was , youthful in years , but old in trials and labours , and to one who analysed his countenance , the conviction was inevitable that his will was gigantic , his ambition unbounded , his intellect wonderfully acute and powerful . `` Russell , do you know it is midnight ? '' He frowned , and answered without looking up -- `` Yes . '' `` How much longer will you sit up ? '' `` Till I finish my work . ''