"Winifred," she said, "you have a sort of belief in the White Weeper story, otherwise you wouldn't be so cross about it." "I have not, I have not indeed," said Winifred earnestly. "But I don't deny that the association is painful. It is said to have been down here near the pond that the unfortunate woman spent her last night at home before her husband drove her by his cruelty to take refuge in the convent at Cruxfield, where she died. And there is always a creepy, shivery feeling about here; the rest of the place is so open and bright." She could not repress a slight shudder as she spoke. "Do come away," she added. "Not just for a moment. I want to tell you something here--on the very spot, from where--no, I will begin at the beginning," said Miss Norreys. And in a few minutes Winifred was in possession of the whole details of Hertha's night's experience. She grew very pale, but listened without a word or gesture of interruption, till the end. Then she burst out: "Oh, surely, surely," she exclaimed, "it was a dream. It must have been." But Hertha shook her head. "No," she said, "it was no dream--nothing in the least resembling what we are accustomed to call dreams. A vision it may have been. Perhaps all ghostly visitations are visions. But I was awake when I saw it. I remember her face perfectly. If I were an artist I could paint it." "And it has impressed you very much?" said Winifred. "Naturally." "And you have told no one but me?--thank you for that. It was good of you, for--of course they would associate it with _me_, with my being here." "They could scarcely do otherwise," said Hertha, drily. "It is strange," said Winifred, as if thinking aloud. "Why, if such things are, why did she not appear to _me_?" "Perhaps she cannot. Perhaps you are one who could not be made conscious of such a presence," said Hertha. "Perhaps--" But here she stopped, though with a little smile. "Go on, do," said Winifred. "I was only going to say--don't think me irreverent, but you are not easily `convinced against your will,' Winifred. The verse about `Moses and the prophets' came into my mind. I am not sure that you would give more heed to a ghost than to those who have already spoken." "Not as much," said Winifred. "But what, then, has been the use of the poor White Weeper's troubling herself and you about me?" "To strengthen _my_ hands, perhaps--in my prophetic capacity, to increase my conviction." "And what is that?" "A very strong one--that harm will come of your persistence. Increased trouble and sorrow to others it will certainly cause. Listen, Winifred." And then she fired her last shot, by revealing to the girl Lennox Maryon's confidence of the previous evening. Winifred was not pale now. Her cheeks burned, her face grew crimson to the very roots of her hair. "_Louise_!" she repeated, "_Louise_!" Hertha felt rather provoked.