n that of the old lady living in the ruin?"

"In Desolate Hole? I will tell you at once; and then call it, if you
like, an imagination. Of all the features of the human face there is
none more distinctive than the eyebrow. 'Distinctive' is not exactly
what I mean--I mean more permanently marked and clear. The eyes change,
the nose changes, so does the mouth, and even the shape of the forehead
sometimes; but the eyebrows change very little, except in color. This I
have noticed, because my own may perhaps be a little peculiar; and they
have always been so. At school I received a nickname about it, for boys
are much sharper than men about such things; and that name after fifty
years fits as well as ever. You may smile, if you like; I shall not tell
you what it was, but leave you to re-invent it, if you can. Now look
at this first-rate miniature. Do you see an unusual but not uncomely
formation of the eyebrows?"

"Certainly I do; though I did not observe it until you drew my
attention. I had only regarded the face, as a whole."

"The face, as a whole, is undoubtedly fine. But the eyebrows have a
peculiar arch, and the least little turn at the lower end, as if they
designed to rise again. The lady of Desolate Hole has the same."

"But how can you tell? How very strange! I thought she let nobody see
her face."

"You are perfectly right about that, Erema; so far at least as she has
vouchsafed to exhibit her countenance to me. Other people may be more
fortunate. But when I met her for the second time, being curious already
about her, I ventured to offer my services, with my inborn chivalry, at
a place where the tide was running up, and threatened to surround her.
My politeness was not appreciated, as too often is the case; for she
made me a very stiff bow, and turned away. Her face had been covered by
the muffler of her cloak, as if the sea-breeze were too much for her;
and she did not even raise her eyes. But before she turned away, I
obtained a good glance at her eyebrows--and they were formed like
these."

"But her age, Major Hockin! Her age--what is it?"

"Upon that proverbially delicate point I can tell you but little,
Erema. Perhaps, however, I may safely say that she can not be much under
twenty."

"It is not right to provoke me so. You call her 'the old woman,'
and compare her to your letter-box. You must have some idea--is she
seventy?"

"Certainly not, I should say; though she can not expect me to defend
h