er visitor's face.

She would have escaped an interview, had escape been possible. There
was, however, no backdoor to the cottage, and in an instant the boy had
lifted the latch to Mrs. Lodge's gentle knock.

'I see I have come to the right house,' said she, glancing at the lad,
and smiling. 'But I was not sure till you opened the door.'

The figure and action were those of the phantom; but her voice was so
indescribably sweet, her glance so winning, her smile so tender, so
unlike that of Rhoda's midnight visitant, that the latter could hardly
believe the evidence of her senses. She was truly glad that she had not
hidden away in sheer aversion, as she had been inclined to do. In her
basket Mrs. Lodge brought the pair of boots that she had promised to the
boy, and other useful articles.

At these proofs of a kindly feeling towards her and hers Rhoda's heart
reproached her bitterly. This innocent young thing should have her
blessing and not her curse. When she left them a light seemed gone from
the dwelling. Two days later she came again to know if the boots fitted;
and less than a fortnight after that paid Rhoda another call. On this
occasion the boy was absent.

'I walk a good deal,' said Mrs. Lodge, 'and your house is the nearest
outside our own parish. I hope you are well. You don't look quite
well.'

Rhoda said she was well enough; and, indeed, though the paler of the two,
there was more of the strength that endures in her well-defined features
and large frame, than in the soft-cheeked young woman before her. The
conversation became quite confidential as regarded their powers and
weaknesses; and when Mrs. Lodge was leaving, Rhoda said, 'I hope you will
find this air agree with you, ma'am, and not suffer from the damp of the
water-meads.'

The younger one replied that there was not much doubt of it, her general
health being usually good. 'Though, now you remind me,' she added, 'I
have one little ailment which puzzles me. It is nothing serious, but I
cannot make it out.'

She uncovered her left hand and arm; and their outline confronted Rhoda's
gaze as the exact original of the limb she had beheld and seized in her
dream. Upon the pink round surface of the arm were faint marks of an
unhealthy colour, as if produced by a rough grasp. Rhoda's eyes became
riveted on the discolorations; she fancied that she discerned in them the
shape of her own four fingers.

'How did it happen?' she said mechani