glow.

Her nerves extended into those tresses, and her temper could always
be softened by stroking them down. When her hair was brushed she
would instantly sink into stillness and look like the Sphinx. If, in
passing under one of the Egdon banks, any of its thick skeins were
caught, as they sometimes were, by a prickly tuft of the large _Ulex
Europaeus_--which will act as a sort of hairbrush--she would go back
a few steps, and pass against it a second time.

She had pagan eyes, full of nocturnal mysteries, and their light, as
it came and went, and came again, was partially hampered by their
oppressive lids and lashes; and of these the under lid was much fuller
than it usually is with English women. This enabled her to indulge in
reverie without seeming to do so: she might have been believed capable
of sleeping without closing them up. Assuming that the souls of
men and women were visible essences, you could fancy the colour of
Eustacia's soul to be flame-like. The sparks from it that rose into
her dark pupils gave the same impression.

The mouth seemed formed less to speak than to quiver, less to quiver
than to kiss. Some might have added, less to kiss than to curl.
Viewed sideways, the closing-line of her lips formed, with almost
geometric precision, the curve so well known in the arts of design as
the cima-recta, or ogee. The sight of such a flexible bend as that
on grim Egdon was quite an apparition. It was felt at once that the
mouth did not come over from Sleswig with a band of Saxon pirates
whose lips met like the two halves of a muffin. One had fancied that
such lip-curves were mostly lurking underground in the South as
fragments of forgotten marbles. So fine were the lines of her lips
that, though full, each corner of her mouth was as clearly cut as the
point of a spear. This keenness of corner was only blunted when she
was given over to sudden fits of gloom, one of the phases of the
night-side of sentiment which she knew too well for her years.

Her presence brought memories of such things as Bourbon roses, rubies,
and tropical midnights; her moods recalled lotus-eaters and the march
in "Athalie"; her motions, the ebb and flow of the sea; her voice, the
viola. In a dim light, and with a slight rearrangement of her hair,
her general figure might have stood for that of either of the higher
female deities. The new moon behind her head, an old helmet upon
it, a diadem of accidental dewdrops round her brow, wou