By daylight the scar did not look so formidable as it had by lamplight. The eyebrow was a long smear of sulky red without hair, with a violet streak running through it. The flesh of the eyebrow appeared to have been torn off, and a new skin formed. I screwed my head on one side to catch a view of my profile, but my former face was not in my memory. My present face was the only face that I could recollect, and I was therefore unable to perceive that the injury which had changed the shape of my nose had in any way modified the expression of my countenance. But I did not choose to exhibit my face with that sulky crimson scar streaming like a red trail across my right brow, and not knowing what to do I stepped to Mrs. Richards’ cabin, knocked, and found her busy with some accounts. She started on seeing me, but quickly recollected herself and exclaimed with a smile: ‘Now, indeed, you look as you should.’ ‘I am ashamed,’ said I, ‘to go amongst the passengers with this unsightly forehead.’ ‘It is not unsightly, my dear.’ ‘How can I conceal it?’ She reflected, and then jumped up. ‘I believe I have the very thing you want,’ said she, and after hunting in a box she produced a short white veil. It was of gossamer, and it had a gloss of satin; she pinned it round my cap, contriving that it should fall a little lower than the eyes. ‘Will that do?’ she exclaimed. ‘It is the very thing,’ I cried with a child-like feeling of exultation; and then, as it was nearly eleven o’clock, I walked to the after steps and entered the saloon. The concealment of my face gave me confidence. People might stare at me now, and welcome. There were a number of passengers lounging on sofas and chairs in various parts of the saloon, held under shelter, no doubt, by the weather, for though the sun was shining there was a brisk breeze blowing which came cold with the white spray that it flashed off the broken heads of the swelling running waters. The first person to see me as I was passing to Miss Lee’s berth was Mrs. Webber. She sprang with youthful activity from her chair and came to me, floating and rolling over the slanting deck with her hands outstretched. ‘I have quite made up my mind about you, Miss C----,’ she exclaimed. ‘I have invented a history for you, and I shall never rest until you have recovered your memory, and are able to tell me how far I am right or wrong.’ ‘Let me at once thank you for your great kindness, Mrs. Webber,’ said I, returning the bows of the ladies and gentlemen who were now looking towards me. ‘Not a word of thanks, if you please. When are we to have a good long talk together?--Oh, sooner than _some_ of these days! Did you receive the volume of poems I gave to Mrs. Richards?’ I replied that I had received the book, and that I had read the poems she had marked, and that I did not doubt I should find them very beautiful when my mind had become stronger. We stood a few minutes conversing, and I then went to Miss Lee’s cabin.