"What is her name?" I asked. "Melinda, and says she once belonged to Mr. Peterkin." "Yes, she did. We used to call her Lindy." I then told him what an evil spirit she had been in my path; and ventured to utter a suspicion that her work of harm was yet unfinished, that she meant me further injury. "I know her now, dearest. You have unmasked her, and, with me, she can have no possible power." I seemed to be satisfied, though in reality I was not, for apprehension of an indefinable something troubled me sorely. The next day Miss Nancy observed my troubled abstraction, and inquired the cause, with so much earnestness, that I could not withhold my confidence, and gave her a full account. "And you think she will do you an injury?" "I fear so." "But have you not forestalled that by telling Henry who she is, and how she has acted toward you?" "Yes, ma'm, and have been assured by him that she can do me no harm; but the dread remains." "Oh, you are in a weak, nervous state; I am astonished at Henry for telling you such a thing at this time." "He thought, ma'm, that it would amuse me, as a fine joke; and so I supposed I should have enjoyed it." She did all she could to divert my thoughts, made Henry bring his banjo, and play for me of evenings; bought pleasant romances for me to read; ordered a carriage for a daily ride; purchased me many pretty articles of apparel; but, most of all, I appreciated her kind and cheerful talk, in which she strove to beguile me from everything gloomy or sad. Once she sent me down to spend the day with Louise at the G---- House. There was quite a crowd at the hotel. Southerners, who had come up to pass their summer at the watering-places in Kentucky, had stopped here, and, finding comfortable lodgment, preferred it to the springs; then there were many others travelling to the North and East _via_ L----, who were stopping there. This increased Henry's duties, so that I saw him but seldom during the day. Once or twice he came to Louise's room, and told me that he was unusually busy; but that he had earned four dollars that day, from different persons, in small change, and that he would be able to make his final payment the next month. All this was very encouraging, and I was in unusually fine spirits. As Louise and I sat talking in the afternoon, she remarked-- "Well, Ann, early next month Henry will make his last payment; and we have concluded to go North the latter part of the same month. When will Miss Nancy be ready to go?" "Oh, she can make her arrangements to start at the same time. I will speak to her about it this evening." And then, as we sat planning about a point of location, a shadow darkened the door. I looked up--and, after a long separation, despite both natural and artificial changes, I recognized _Lindy_! I let my sewing fall from my hands and gazed upon her with as much horror as if she had been an apparition! Louise spoke kindly to her, and asked her to walk in.