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The summer drew on, and Rhoda Brook almost dreaded to meet Mrs. Lodgeagain, notwithstanding that her feeling for the young wife amounted well-nigh to affection. Something in her own individuality seemed to convictRhoda of crime. Yet a fatality sometimes would direct the steps of thelatter to the outskirts of Holmstoke whenever she left her house for anyother purpose than her daily work; and hence it happened that their nextencounter was out of doors. Rhoda could not avoid the subject which hadso mystified her, and after the first few words she stammered, 'I hopeyour--arm is well again, ma'am?' She had perceived with consternationthat Gertrude Lodge carried her left arm stiffly.

'No; it is not quite well. Indeed it is no better at all; it is ratherworse. It pains me dreadfully sometimes.'

'Perhaps you had better go to a doctor, ma'am.'

She replied that she had already seen a doctor. Her husband had insistedupon her going to one. But the surgeon had not seemed to understand theafflicted limb at all; he had told her to bathe it in hot water, and shehad bathed it, but the treatment had done no good.

'Will you let me see it?' said the milkwoman.

Mrs. Lodge pushed up her sleeve and disclosed the place, which was a fewinches above the wrist. As soon as Rhoda Brook saw it, she could hardlypreserve her composure. There was nothing of the nature of a wound, butthe arm at that point had a shrivelled look, and the outline of the fourfingers appeared more distinct than at the former time. Moreover, shefancied that they were imprinted in precisely the relative position ofher clutch upon the arm in the trance; the first finger towardsGertrude's wrist, and the fourth towards her elbow.

What the impress resembled seemed to have struck Gertrude herself sincetheir last meeting. 'It looks almost like finger-marks,' she said;adding with a faint laugh, 'my husband says it is as if some witch, orthe devil himself, had taken hold of me there, and blasted the flesh.'

Rhoda shivered. 'That's fancy,' she said hurriedly. 'I wouldn't mindit, if I were you.'

'I shouldn't so much mind it,' said the younger, with hesitation, 'if--ifI hadn't a notion that it makes my husband--dislike me--no, love me less.Men think so much of personal appearance.'

'Some do--he for one.'

'Yes; and he was very proud of mine, at first.'

'Keep your arm covered from his sight.'

'Ah--he knows the disfigurement is there!' She tried to hide the tearsthat filled her eyes.

'Well, ma'am, I earnestly hope it will go away soon.'

And so the milkwoman's mind was chained anew to the subject by a horridsort of spell as she returned home. The sense of having been guilty ofan act of malignity increased, affect as she might to ridicule hersuperstition. In her secret heart Rhoda did not altogether object to aslight diminution of her successor's beauty, by whatever means it hadcome about; but she did not wish to inflict upon her physical pain. Forthough this pretty young woman had rendered impossible any reparationwhich Lodge might have made Rhoda for his past conduct, everything likeresentment at the unconscious usurpation had quite passed away from theelder's mind.

If the sweet and kindly Gertrude Lodge only knew of the scene in the bed-chamber, what would she think? Not to inform her of it seemed treacheryin the presence of her friendliness; but tell she could not of her ownaccord--neither could she devise a remedy.

She mused upon the matter the greater part of the night; and the nextday, after the morning milking, set out to obtain another glimpse ofGertrude Lodge if she could, being held to her by a gruesome fascination.By watching the house from a distance the milkmaid was presently able todiscern the farmer's wife in a ride she was taking alone--probably tojoin her husband in some distant field. Mrs. Lodge perceived her, andcantered in her direction.

'Good morning, Rhoda!' Gertrude said, when she had come up. 'I was goingto call.'

Rhoda noticed that Mrs. Lodge held the reins with some difficulty.

'I hope--the bad arm,' said Rhoda.

'They tell me there is possibly one way by which I might be able to findout the cause, and so perhaps the cure, of it,' replied the otheranxiously. 'It is by going to some clever man over in Egdon Heath. Theydid not know if he was still alive--and I cannot remember his name atthis moment; but they said that you knew more of his movements thananybody else hereabout, and could tell me if he were still to beconsulted. Dear me--what was his name? But you know.'

'Not Conjuror Trendle?' said her thin companion, turning pale.

'Trendle--yes. Is he alive?'

'I believe so,' said Rhoda, with reluctance.

'Why do you call him conjuror?'

'Well--they say--they used to say he was a--he had powers other folkshave not.'

'O, how could my people be so superstitious as to recommend a man of thatsort! I thought they meant some medical man. I shall think no more ofhim.'

Rhoda looked relieved, and Mrs. Lodge rode on. The milkwoman hadinwardly seen, from the moment she heard of her having been mentioned asa reference for this man, that there must exist a sarcastic feeling amongthe work-folk that a sorceress would know the whereabouts of theexorcist. They suspected her, then. A short time ago this would havegiven no concern to a woman of her common-sense. But she had a hauntingreason to be superstitious now; and she had been seized with sudden dreadthat this Conjuror Trendle might name her as the malignant influencewhich was blasting the fair person of Gertrude, and so lead her friend tohate her for ever, and to treat her as some fiend in human shape.

But all was not over. Two days after, a shadow intruded into the window-pattern thrown on Rhoda Brook's floor by the afternoon sun. The womanopened the door at once, almost breathlessly.

'Are you alone?' said Gertrude. She seemed to be no less harassed andanxious than Brook herself.

'Yes,' said Rhoda.

'The place on my arm seems worse, and troubles me!' the young farmer'swife went on. 'It is so mysterious! I do hope it will not be anincurable wound. I have again been thinking of what they said aboutConjuror Trendle. I don't really believe in such men, but I should notmind just visiting him, from curiosity--though on no account must myhusband know. Is it far to where he lives?'

'Yes--five miles,' said Rhoda backwardly. 'In the heart of Egdon.'

'Well, I should have to walk. Could not you go with me to show me theway--say to-morrow afternoon?'

'O, not I--that is,' the milkwoman murmured, with a start of dismay.Again the dread seized her that something to do with her fierce act inthe dream might be revealed, and her character in the eyes of the mostuseful friend she had ever had be ruined irretrievably.

Mrs. Lodge urged, and Rhoda finally assented, though with much misgiving.Sad as the journey would be to her, she could not conscientiously standin the way of a possible remedy for her patron's strange affliction. Itwas agreed that, to escape suspicion of their mystic intent, they shouldmeet at the edge of the heath at the corner of a plantation which wasvisible from the spot where they now stood.