the greater part of the night; and the next
day, after the morning milking, set out to obtain another glimpse of
Gertrude Lodge if she could, being held to her by a gruesome fascination.
By watching the house from a distance the milkmaid was presently able to
discern the farmer's wife in a ride she was taking alone--probably to
join her husband in some distant field. Mrs. Lodge perceived her, and
cantered in her direction.

'Good morning, Rhoda!' Gertrude said, when she had come up. 'I was going
to 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 find
out the cause, and so perhaps the cure, of it,' replied the other
anxiously. 'It is by going to some clever man over in Egdon Heath. They
did not know if he was still alive--and I cannot remember his name at
this moment; but they said that you knew more of his movements than
anybody else hereabout, and could tell me if he were still to be
consulted. 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 folks
have not.'

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

Rhoda looked relieved, and Mrs. Lodge rode on. The milkwoman had
inwardly seen, from the moment she heard of her having been mentioned as
a reference for this man, that there must exist a sarcastic feeling among
the work-folk that a sorceress would know the whereabouts of the
exorcist. They suspected her, then. A short time ago this would have
given no concern to a woman of her common-sense. But she had a haunting
reason to be superstitious now; and she had been seized with sudden dread
that this Conjuror Trendle might name her as the malignant influence
which was blasting the fair person of Gertrude, and so lead her friend to
hate 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 woman
opened the door at once, almost breathlessly.

'Are you alone?' said Gertrude. She seemed to b