CHAPTER IV--A SUGGESTION
The summer drew on, and Rhoda Brook almost dreaded to meet Mrs.
Lodge again, notwithstanding that her feeling for the young wife
amounted well-nigh to affection. Something in her own individuality
seemed to convict Rhoda of crime. Yet a fatality sometimes would
direct the steps of the latter to the outskirts of Holmstoke
whenever she left her house for any other purpose than her daily
work; and hence it happened that their next encounter was out of
doors. Rhoda could not avoid the subject which had so mystified
her, and after the first few words she stammered, 'I hope your--arm
is well again, ma'am?' She had perceived with consternation that
Gertrude Lodge carried her left arm stiffly.
'No; it is not quite well. Indeed it is no better at all; it is
rather 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 had
insisted upon her going to one. But the surgeon had not seemed to
understand the afflicted limb at all; he had told her to bathe it in
hot water, and she had bathed it, but the treatment had done no
good.
'Will you let me see it?' said the milkwoman.
Mrs. Lodge pushed up her sleeve and disclosed the place, which was a
few inches above the wrist. As soon as Rhoda Brook saw it, she
could hardly preserve her composure. There was nothing of the
nature of a wound, but the arm at that point had a shrivelled look,
and the outline of the four fingers appeared more distinct than at
the former time. Moreover, she fancied that they were imprinted in
precisely the relative position of her clutch upon the arm in the
trance; the first finger towards Gertrude's wrist, and the fourth
towards her elbow.
What the impress resembled seemed to have struck Gertrude herself
since their last meeting. 'It looks almost like finger-marks,' she
said; adding with a faint laugh, 'my husband says it is as if some
witch, or the devil himself, had taken hold of me there, and blasted
the flesh.'
Rhoda shivered. 'That's fancy,' she said hurriedly. 'I wouldn't
mind 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 the
tears 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 a
horrid sort of spell as she returned home. The sense of having been
guilty of an act of malignity increased, affect as she might to
ridicule her superstition. In her secret heart Rhoda did not
altogether object to a slight diminution of her successor's beauty,
by whatever means it had come about; but she did not wish to inflict
upon her physical pain. For though this pretty young woman had
rendered impossible any reparation which Lodge might have made Rhoda
for his past conduct, everything like resentment at the unconscious
usurpation had quite passed away from the elder's mind.
If the sweet and kindly Gertrude Lodge only knew of the scene in the
bed-chamber, what would she think? Not to inform her of it seemed
treachery in the presence of her friendliness; but tell she could
not of her own accord--neither could she devise a remedy.
She mused upon the matter 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 be no less harassed
and anxious than Brook herself.
'Yes,' said Rhoda.
'The place on my arm seems worse, and troubles me!' the young
farmer's wife went on. 'It is so mysterious! I do hope it will not
be an incurable wound. I have again been thinking of what they said
about Conjuror Trendle. I don't really believe in such men, but I
should not mind just visiting him, from curiosity--though on no
account 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 me
the 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 act
in the dream might be revealed, and her character in the eyes of the
most useful friend she had ever had be ruined irretrievably.
Mrs. Lodge urged, and Rhoda finally assented, though with much
misgiving. Sad as the journey would be to her, she could not
conscientiously stand in the way of a possible remedy for her
patron's strange affliction. It was agreed that, to escape
suspicion of their mystic intent, they should meet at the edge of
the heath at the corner of a plantation which was visible from the
spot where they now stood.
