doorway. He wore a countryman's hat, which seemed to suit him as
little as the cloak, and from beneath the brim his dark eyes glared
with a restless, dissatisfied look, and were so dark and so fierce
and bright that one could hardly see any other details of his face,
unless it were his smooth chin, which, either from habit or from the
stiffness of his stock, he carried strangely up in the air.

"Indeed, sir," said the windmiller's wife, courtesying, and setting
a chair, with her eyes wandering back by a kind of fascination to
those of the stranger; "be pleased to take a seat, sir."

The stranger sat down for a moment, and then stood up again. Then
he seemed to remember that he still wore his hat, and removed it,
holding it stiffly before him in his gloved hands. This displayed a
high, narrow head, on which the natural hair was worn short and
without parting, and a face which, though worn, was not old. And,
for no definable reason, an impression stole over the windmiller's
wife that he, like her husband, had some wish to conciliate, which
in his case struggled hard with a very different kind of feeling,
more natural to him.

Then he took out a watch of what would now be called the old turnip
shape, and said impatiently to the miller, "Our time is short, my
good man."

"To be sure, sir," said the windmiller. "Missus! a word with you
here." And he led the way into the round-house, where his wife
followed, wondering. Her wonder was not lessened when he laid his
hand upon her shoulder, and, with flushed cheek and a tone of
excitement that once more recalled the Foresters' annual meeting,