ng so bad. But I suppose this not knowing
is the very badness itself.

Captain Welles and the others don't show me their letters now. But
haven't we more than five senses? Else how is it I know that in these
letters is the neighborhood talk of her connection with Mr. Colman? She
never mentions it; neither does Frederic. But that is because they have
very kind hearts.

I will drag myself once more over these hills. Better wearisome motion
than wearisome rest.

* * * * *

_June 7._--Yesterday I wandered very far away among the hills, knowing
well where I wanted to go, and where I should probably go; but circling
round about as if to hide from myself my own intentions. I knew of
people who had been there, but had never felt heart to go myself. I
crossed a desolate plain, where a fire had passed. Every bush, stump,
and tree was blackened. After this came green hills, with woods and
grape-vines.

On the side of a hill there stood a hut, built up against a mass of
rocks. This hut was what I came to find.

I walked softly up, and looked in at the open door. A dark-looking,
beautiful young girl, with long hair, sat crouching in a corner. Close
by her was a great shaggy dog.

I had heard of the Prophetess, but thought to find a wrinkled old woman,
and this beautiful girl startled me. Startled, but not pleased me; for
there was no young look in her face. Such strange eyes I never saw. 'T
was as if an old person's face had been smoothed and rounded out, and
the expression left there still. By her dress I saw that she was Indian.

The hut was a damp, gloomy place, extending far back into a cavern among
the rocks. She arose and beckoned me to follow her farther in,--farther
from the light and sunshine. There, in half darkness, half light, she
stood, with her terrible eyes fixed upon mine. I longed to step back
into the sunshine, for a chill had half taken hold of me; but some power
kept me standing there,--neither could I turn my eyes from hers.

Presently I became conscious of a drowsiness. Her face, her whole
figure, faded from my sight. Then, in the midst of the darkness, I
perceived a spot of light, which soon took unto itself the semblance of
a hand,--a pale hand, which held a damask rose, seemingly just plucked,
full of fragrance and wet with dew.

While I gazed upon it, I saw that it faded and drooped, till at last its
head hung lifeless upon the stalk. There only remained the pale,