her way. Trendle's house was
reached at last, however: he was not indoors, and instead of waiting at
the cottage, she went to where his bent figure was pointed out to her at
work a long way off. Trendle remembered her, and laying down the handful
of furze-roots which he was gathering and throwing into a heap, he
offered to accompany her in her homeward direction, as the distance was
considerable and the days were short. So they walked together, his head
bowed nearly to the earth, and his form of a colour with it.

'You can send away warts and other excrescences I know,' she said; 'why
can't you send away this?' And the arm was uncovered.

'You think too much of my powers!' said Trendle; 'and I am old and weak
now, too. No, no; it is too much for me to attempt in my own person.
What have ye tried?'

She named to him some of the hundred medicaments and counterspells which
she had adopted from time to time. He shook his head.

'Some were good enough,' he said approvingly; 'but not many of them for
such as this. This is of the nature of a blight, not of the nature of a
wound; and if you ever do throw it off; it will be all at once.'

'If I only could!'

'There is only one chance of doing it known to me. It has never failed
in kindred afflictions,--that I can declare. But it is hard to carry
out, and especially for a woman.'

'Tell me!' said she.

'You must touch with the limb the neck of a man who's been hanged.'

She started a little at the image he had raised.

'Before he's cold--just after he's cut down,' continued the conjuror
impassively.

'How can that do good?'

'It will turn the blood and change the constitution. But, as I say, to
do it is hard. You must get into jail, and wait for him when he's
brought off the gallows. Lots have done it, though perhaps not such
pretty women as you. I used to send dozens for skin complaints. But
that was in former times. The last I sent was in '13--near twenty years
ago.'

He had no more to tell her; and, when he had put her into a straight
track homeward, turned and left her, refusing all money as at first.

CHAPTER VII--A RIDE

The communication sank deep into Gertrude's mind. Her nature was rather
a timid one; and probably of all remedies that the white wizard could
have suggested there was not one which would have filled her with so much
aversion as this, not to speak of the immense obstacles in the way of its
adoption.

Casterbridge, t