t, she
will; and all the maids is afraid on her. She's not right, they think--a
witch or a ghost--I should not wonder. Catherine Jones found her in her bed
asleep in the morning after she sulked with you, you know, Miss, with all
her clothes on, what-ever was the meaning; and I think she has frightened
_you,_ Miss and has you as nervous as anythink--I do,' and so forth.

It was true. I _was_ nervous, and growing rather more so; and I think this
cynical woman perceived and intended it, and was pleased. I was always
afraid of her concealing herself in my room, and emerging at night to scare
me. She began sometimes to mingle in my dreams, too--always awfully; and
this nourished, of course, the kind of ambiguous fear in which, in waking
hours, I held her.

I dreamed one night that she led me, all the time whispering something so
very fast that I could not understand her, into the library, holding
a candle in her other hand above her head. We walked on tiptoe, like
criminals at the dead of night, and stopped before that old oak cabinet
which my father had indicated in so odd a way to me. I felt that we were
about some contraband practice. There was a key in the door, which I
experienced a guilty horror at turning, she whispering in the same
unintelligible way, all the time, at my ear. I _did_ turn it; the door
opened quite softly, and within stood my father, his face white and
malignant, and glaring close in mine. He cried in a terrible voice,
'Death!' Out went Madame's candle, and at the same moment, with a scream,
I waked in the dark--still fancying myself in the library; and for an hour
after I continued in a hysterical state.

Every little incident about Madame furnished a topic of eager discussion
among the maids. More or less covertly, they nearly all hated and feared
her. They fancied that she was making good her footing with 'the Master;'
and that she would then oust Mrs. Rusk--perhaps usurp her place--and so
make a clean sweep of them all. I fancy the honest little housekeeper did
not discourage that suspicion.

About this time I recollect a pedlar--an odd, gipsified-looking man--called
in at Knowl. I and Catherine Jones were in the court when he came, and set
down his pack on the low balustrade beside the door.

All sorts of commodities he had--ribbons, cottons, silks, stockings,
lace, and even some bad jewellry; and just as he began his display--an
interesting matter in a quiet country house--Madame came upon