and? I have been in Cumberland ever since--I have been
staying all the time at Limmeridge House."

"At Limmeridge House!" Her pale face brightened as she repeated the
words, her wandering eyes fixed on me with a sudden interest. "Ah, how
happy you must have been!" she said, looking at me eagerly, without a
shadow of its former distrust left in her expression.

I took advantage of her newly-aroused confidence in me to observe her
face, with an attention and a curiosity which I had hitherto restrained
myself from showing, for caution's sake. I looked at her, with my mind
full of that other lovely face which had so ominously recalled her to
my memory on the terrace by moonlight. I had seen Anne Catherick's
likeness in Miss Fairlie. I now saw Miss Fairlie's likeness in Anne
Catherick--saw it all the more clearly because the points of
dissimilarity between the two were presented to me as well as the
points of resemblance. In the general outline of the countenance and
general proportion of the features--in the colour of the hair and in
the little nervous uncertainty about the lips--in the height and size
of the figure, and the carriage of the head and body, the likeness
appeared even more startling than I had ever felt it to be yet. But
there the resemblance ended, and the dissimilarity, in details, began.
The delicate beauty of Miss Fairlie's complexion, the transparent
clearness of her eyes, the smooth purity of her skin, the tender bloom
of colour on her lips, were all missing from the worn weary face that
was now turned towards mine. Although I hated myself even for thinking
such a thing, still, while I looked at the woman before me, the idea
would force itself into my mind that one sad change, in the future, was
all that was wanting to make the likeness complete, which I now saw to
be so imperfect in detail. If ever sorrow and suffering set their
profaning marks on the youth and beauty of Miss Fairlie's face, then,
and then only, Anne Catherick and she would be the twin-sisters of
chance resemblance, the living reflections of one another.

I shuddered at the thought. There was something horrible in the blind
unreasoning distrust of the future which the mere passage of it through
my mind seemed to imply. It was a welcome interruption to be roused by
feeling Anne Catherick's hand laid on my shoulder. The touch was as
stealthy and as sudden as that other touch which had petrified me from
head to foot on the night w