The summer drew on, and Rhoda Brook almost dreaded to meet Mrs.

　　Lodge again, notwithstanding that her feeling for the young wifeamounted well-nigh to affection. Something in her own individualityseemed to convict Rhoda of crime. Yet a fatality sometimes woulddirect the steps of the latter to the outskirts of Holmstokewhenever she left her house for any other purpose than her dailywork; and hence it happened that their next encounter was out ofdoors. Rhoda could not avoid the subject which had so mystifiedher, and after the first few words she stammered, 'I hope your--armis well again, ma'am?' She had perceived with consternation thatGertrude Lodge carried her left arm stiffly.

　　'No; it is not quite well. Indeed it is no better at all; it israther worse. 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 hadinsisted upon her going to one. But the surgeon had not seemed tounderstand the afflicted limb at all; he had told her to bathe it inhot water, and she had bathed it, but the treatment had done nogood.

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

　　Mrs. Lodge pushed up her sleeve and disclosed the place, which was afew inches above the wrist. As soon as Rhoda Brook saw it, shecould hardly preserve her composure. There was nothing of thenature of a wound, but the arm at that point had a shrivelled look,and the outline of the four fingers appeared more distinct than atthe former time. Moreover, she fancied that they were imprinted inprecisely the relative position of her clutch upon the arm in thetrance; the first finger towards Gertrude's wrist, and the fourthtowards her elbow.

　　What the impress resembled seemed to have struck Gertrude herselfsince their last meeting. 'It looks almost like finger-marks,' shesaid; adding with a faint laugh, 'my husband says it is as if somewitch, or the devil himself, had taken hold of me there, and blastedthe flesh.'

　　Rhoda shivered. 'That's fancy,' she said hurriedly. 'I wouldn'tmind it, if I were you.'

　　'I shouldn't so much mind it,' said the younger, with hesitation,'if--if I 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 thetears that 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 ahorrid sort of spell as she returned home. The sense of having beenguilty of an act of malignity increased, affect as she might toridicule her superstition. In her secret heart Rhoda did notaltogether object to a slight diminution of her successor's beauty,by whatever means it had come about; but she did not wish to inflictupon her physical pain. For though this pretty young woman hadrendered impossible any reparation which Lodge might have made Rhodafor his past conduct, everything like resentment at the unconscioususurpation had quite passed away from the elder's mind.

　　If the sweet and kindly Gertrude Lodge only knew of the scene in thebed-chamber, what would she think? Not to inform her of it seemedtreachery in the presence of her friendliness; but tell she couldnot of her own accord--neither could she devise a remedy.

　　She mused upon the matter the greater part of the night; and thenext day, after the morning milking, set out to obtain anotherglimpse of Gertrude Lodge if she could, being held to her by agruesome fascination. By watching the house from a distance themilkmaid was presently able to discern the farmer's wife in a rideshe was taking alone--probably to join her husband in some distantfield. Mrs. Lodge perceived her, and cantered in her direction.

　　'Good morning, Rhoda!' Gertrude said, when she had come up. 'I wasgoing 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 tofind out the cause, and so perhaps the cure, of it,' replied theother anxiously. 'It is by going to some clever man over in EgdonHeath. They did not know if he was still alive--and I cannotremember his name at this moment; but they said that you knew moreof his movements than anybody else hereabout, and could tell me ifhe were still to be consulted. Dear me--what was his name? But youknow.'

　　'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 otherfolks have not.'

　　'O, how could my people be so superstitious as to recommend a man ofthat sort! I thought they meant some medical man. I shall think nomore of him.'

　　Rhoda looked relieved, and Mrs. Lodge rode on. The milkwoman hadinwardly seen, from the moment she heard of her having beenmentioned as a reference for this man, that there must exist asarcastic feeling among the work-folk that a sorceress would knowthe whereabouts of the exorcist. They suspected her, then. A shorttime ago this would have given no concern to a woman of her common-sense. But she had a haunting reason to be superstitious now; andshe had been seized with sudden dread that this Conjuror Trendlemight name her as the malignant influence which was blasting thefair person of Gertrude, and so lead her friend to hate her forever, and to treat her as some fiend in human shape.

　　But all was not over. Two days after, a shadow intruded into thewindow-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 be no less harassedand anxious than Brook herself.

　　'Yes,' said Rhoda.

　　'The place on my arm seems worse, and troubles me!' the youngfarmer's wife went on. 'It is so mysterious! I do hope it will notbe an incurable wound. I have again been thinking of what they saidabout Conjuror Trendle. I don't really believe in such men, but Ishould not mind just visiting him, from curiosity--though on noaccount must my husband 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 methe way--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 actin the dream might be revealed, and her character in the eyes of themost useful friend she had ever had be ruined irretrievably.

　　Mrs. Lodge urged, and Rhoda finally assented, though with muchmisgiving. Sad as the journey would be to her, she could notconscientiously stand in the way of a possible remedy for herpatron's strange affliction. It was agreed that, to escapesuspicion of their mystic intent, they should meet at the edge ofthe heath at the corner of a plantation which was visible from thespot where they now stood.