irl in a place like Peterhead. Not, mind you," he added, "that I
consider I did a foolish or hasty thing. I have never regretted it for
a moment. The more I know Kate the more I admire her and love her.
However, you must be introduced to her, and then you will form your own
opinion."

I expressed my pleasure at the prospect, and endeavoured to speak as
lightly as I could to Cowles upon the subject, but I felt depressed
and anxious at heart. The words of Reeves and the unhappy fate of young
Prescott recurred to my recollection, and though I could assign no
tangible reason for it, a vague, dim fear and distrust of the woman
took possession of me. It may be that this was foolish prejudice and
superstition upon my part, and that I involuntarily contorted her future
doings and sayings to fit into some half-formed wild theory of my
own. This has been suggested to me by others as an explanation of my
narrative. They are welcome to their opinion if they can reconcile it
with the facts which I have to tell.

I went round with my friend a few days afterwards to call upon Miss
Northcott. I remember that, as we went down Abercrombie Place, our
attention was attracted by the shrill yelping of a dog--which noise
proved eventually to come from the house to which we were bound. We
were shown upstairs, where I was introduced to old Mrs. Merton, Miss
Northcott's aunt, and to the young lady herself. She looked as beautiful
as ever, and I could not wonder at my friend's infatuation. Her face
was a little more flushed than usual, and she held in her hand a heavy
dog-whip, with which she had been chastising a small Scotch terrier,
whose cries we had heard in the street. The poor brute was cringing up
against the wall, whining piteously, and evidently completely cowed.

"So Kate," said my friend, after we had taken our seats, "you have been
falling out with Carlo again."

"Only a very little quarrel this time," she said, smiling charmingly.
"He is a dear, good old fellow, but he needs correction now and then."
Then, turning to me, "We all do that, Mr. Armitage, don't we? What a
capital thing if, instead of receiving a collective punishment at the
end of our lives, we were to have one at once, as the dogs do, when we
did anything wicked. It would make us more careful, wouldn't it?"

I acknowledged that it would.

"Supposing that every time a man misbehaved himself a gigantic hand
were to seize him, and he were lashed with a whip until he