By the next afternoon Rhoda would have done anything to escape thisinquiry. But she had promised to go. Moreover, there was a horridfascination at times in becoming instrumental in throwing such possiblelight on her own character as would reveal her to be something greater inthe occult world than she had ever herself suspected.

She started just before the time of day mentioned between them, and half-an-hour's brisk walking brought her to the south-eastern extension of theEgdon tract of country, where the fir plantation was. A slight figure,cloaked and veiled, was already there. Rhoda recognized, almost with ashudder, that Mrs. Lodge bore her left arm in a sling.

They hardly spoke to each other, and immediately set out on their climbinto the interior of this solemn country, which stood high above the richalluvial soil they had left half-an-hour before. It was a long walk;thick clouds made the atmosphere dark, though it was as yet only earlyafternoon; and the wind howled dismally over the hills of the heath--notimprobably the same heath which had witnessed the agony of the WessexKing Ina, presented to after-ages as Lear. Gertrude Lodge talked most,Rhoda replying with monosyllabic preoccupation. She had a strangedislike to walking on the side of her companion where hung the afflictedarm, moving round to the other when inadvertently near it. Much heatherhad been brushed by their feet when they descended upon a cart-track,beside which stood the house of the man they sought.

He did not profess his remedial practices openly, or care anything abouttheir continuance, his direct interests being those of a dealer in furze,turf, 'sharp sand,' and other local products. Indeed, he affected not tobelieve largely in his own powers, and when warts that had been shown himfor cure miraculously disappeared--which it must be owned they infalliblydid--he would say lightly, 'O, I only drink a glass of grog upon'em--perhaps it's all chance,' and immediately turn the subject.

He was at home when they arrived, having in fact seen them descendinginto his valley. He was a gray-bearded man, with a reddish face, and helooked singularly at Rhoda the first moment he beheld her. Mrs. Lodgetold him her errand; and then with words of self-disparagement heexamined her arm.

'Medicine can't cure it,' he said promptly. ''Tis the work of an enemy.'

Rhoda shrank into herself, and drew back.

'An enemy? What enemy?' asked Mrs. Lodge.

He shook his head. 'That's best known to yourself,' he said. 'If youlike, I can show the person to you, though I shall not myself know who itis. I can do no more; and don't wish to do that.'

She pressed him; on which he told Rhoda to wait outside where she stood,and took Mrs. Lodge into the room. It opened immediately from the door;and, as the latter remained ajar, Rhoda Brook could see the proceedingswithout taking part in them. He brought a tumbler from the dresser,nearly filled it with water, and fetching an egg, prepared it in someprivate way; after which he broke it on the edge of the glass, so thatthe white went in and the yolk remained. As it was getting gloomy, hetook the glass and its contents to the window, and told Gertrude to watchthem closely. They leant over the table together, and the milkwomancould see the opaline hue of the egg-fluid changing form as it sank inthe water, but she was not near enough to define the shape that itassumed.

'Do you catch the likeness of any face or figure as you look?' demandedthe conjuror of the young woman.

She murmured a reply, in tones so low as to be inaudible to Rhoda, andcontinued to gaze intently into the glass. Rhoda turned, and walked afew steps away.

When Mrs. Lodge came out, and her face was met by the light, it appearedexceedingly pale--as pale as Rhoda's--against the sad dun shades of theupland's garniture. Trendle shut the door behind her, and they at oncestarted homeward together. But Rhoda perceived that her companion hadquite changed.

'Did he charge much?' she asked tentatively.

'O no--nothing. He would not take a farthing,' said Gertrude.

'And what did you see?' inquired Rhoda.

'Nothing I--care to speak of.' The constraint in her manner wasremarkable; her face was so rigid as to wear an oldened aspect, faintlysuggestive of the face in Rhoda's bed-chamber.

'Was it you who first proposed coming here?' Mrs. Lodge suddenlyinquired, after a long pause. 'How very odd, if you did!'

'No. But I am not sorry we have come, all things considered,' shereplied. For the first time a sense of triumph possessed her, and shedid not altogether deplore that the young thing at her side should learnthat their lives had been antagonized by other influences than their own.

The subject was no more alluded to during the long and dreary walk home.But in some way or other a story was whispered about the many-dairiedlowland that winter that Mrs. Lodge's gradual loss of the use of her leftarm was owing to her being 'overlooked' by Rhoda Brook. The latter kepther own counsel about the incubus, but her face grew sadder and thinner;and in the spring she and her boy disappeared from the neighbourhood ofHolmstoke.