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One night, two or three weeks after the bridal return, when the boy wasgone to bed, Rhoda sat a long time over the turf ashes that she had rakedout in front of her to extinguish them. She contemplated so intently thenew wife, as presented to her in her mind's eye over the embers, that sheforgot the lapse of time. At last, wearied with her day's work, she tooretired.

But the figure which had occupied her so much during this and theprevious days was not to be banished at night. For the first timeGertrude Lodge visited the supplanted woman in her dreams. Rhoda Brookdreamed--since her assertion that she really saw, before falling asleep,was not to be believed--that the young wife, in the pale silk dress andwhite bonnet, but with features shockingly distorted, and wrinkled as byage, was sitting upon her chest as she lay. The pressure of Mrs. Lodge'sperson grew heavier; the blue eyes peered cruelly into her face; and thenthe figure thrust forward its left hand mockingly, so as to make thewedding-ring it wore glitter in Rhoda's eyes. Maddened mentally, andnearly suffocated by pressure, the sleeper struggled; the incubus, stillregarding her, withdrew to the foot of the bed, only, however, to comeforward by degrees, resume her seat, and flash her left hand as before.

Gasping for breath, Rhoda, in a last desperate effort, swung out herright hand, seized the confronting spectre by its obtrusive left arm, andwhirled it backward to the floor, starting up herself as she did so witha low cry.

'O, merciful heaven!' she cried, sitting on the edge of the bed in a coldsweat; 'that was not a dream--she was here!'

She could feel her antagonist's arm within her grasp even now--the veryflesh and bone of it, as it seemed. She looked on the floor whither shehad whirled the spectre, but there was nothing to be seen.

Rhoda Brook slept no more that night, and when she went milking at thenext dawn they noticed how pale and haggard she looked. The milk thatshe drew quivered into the pail; her hand had not calmed even yet, andstill retained the feel of the arm. She came home to breakfast aswearily as if it had been suppertime.

'What was that noise in your chimmer, mother, last night?' said her son.'You fell off the bed, surely?'

'Did you hear anything fall? At what time?'

'Just when the clock struck two.'

She could not explain, and when the meal was done went silently about herhousehold work, the boy assisting her, for he hated going afield on thefarms, and she indulged his reluctance. Between eleven and twelve thegarden-gate clicked, and she lifted her eyes to the window. At thebottom of the garden, within the gate, stood the woman of her vision.Rhoda seemed transfixed.

'Ah, she said she would come!' exclaimed the boy, also observing her.

'Said so--when? How does she know us?'

'I have seen and spoken to her. I talked to her yesterday.'

'I told you,' said the mother, flushing indignantly, 'never to speak toanybody in that house, or go near the place.'

'I did not speak to her till she spoke to me. And I did not go near theplace. I met her in the road.'

'What did you tell her?'

'Nothing. She said, "Are you the poor boy who had to bring the heavyload from market?" And she looked at my boots, and said they would notkeep my feet dry if it came on wet, because they were so cracked. I toldher I lived with my mother, and we had enough to do to keep ourselves,and that's how it was; and she said then, "I'll come and bring you somebetter boots, and see your mother." She gives away things to other folksin the meads besides us.'

Mrs. Lodge was by this time close to the door--not in her silk, as Rhodahad seen her in the bed-chamber, but in a morning hat, and gown of commonlight material, which became her better than silk. On her arm shecarried a basket.

The impression remaining from the night's experience was still strong.Brook had almost expected to see the wrinkles, the scorn, and the crueltyon her visitor's face.

She would have escaped an interview, had escape been possible. Therewas, however, no backdoor to the cottage, and in an instant the boy hadlifted 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 soindescribably sweet, her glance so winning, her smile so tender, sounlike that of Rhoda's midnight visitant, that the latter could hardlybelieve the evidence of her senses. She was truly glad that she had nothidden away in sheer aversion, as she had been inclined to do. In herbasket Mrs. Lodge brought the pair of boots that she had promised to theboy, and other useful articles.

At these proofs of a kindly feeling towards her and hers Rhoda's heartreproached her bitterly. This innocent young thing should have herblessing and not her curse. When she left them a light seemed gone fromthe 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 thisoccasion the boy was absent.

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

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 featuresand large frame, than in the soft-cheeked young woman before her. Theconversation became quite confidential as regarded their powers andweaknesses; and when Mrs. Lodge was leaving, Rhoda said, 'I hope you willfind this air agree with you, ma'am, and not suffer from the damp of thewater-meads.'

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

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

'How did it happen?' she said mechanically.

'I cannot tell,' replied Mrs. Lodge, shaking her head. 'One night when Iwas sound asleep, dreaming I was away in some strange place, a painsuddenly shot into my arm there, and was so keen as to awaken me. I musthave struck it in the daytime, I suppose, though I don't remember doingso.' She added, laughing, 'I tell my dear husband that it looks just asif he had flown into a rage and struck me there. O, I daresay it willsoon disappear.'

'Ha, ha! Yes . . . On what night did it come?'

Mrs. Lodge considered, and said it would be a fortnight ago on themorrow. 'When I awoke I could not remember where I was,' she added,'till the clock striking two reminded me.'

She had named the night and the hour of Rhoda's spectral encounter, andBrook felt like a guilty thing. The artless disclosure startled her; shedid not reason on the freaks of coincidence; and all the scenery of thatghastly night returned with double vividness to her mind.

'O, can it be,' she said to herself, when her visitor had departed, 'thatI exercise a malignant power over people against my own will?' She knewthat she had been slily called a witch since her fall; but never havingunderstood why that particular stigma had been attached to her, it hadpassed disregarded. Could this be the explanation, and had such thingsas this ever happened before?