"Ah," moaned Mrs. Johnson, wagging her head over a potato, "Why, indeed! But the heart of man, and likewise woman, is bad and wicked. Miss Arnott and Bithiah quarrelled over you, my son." Johnson looked at his mother in amazement. "Quarrelled over me?" he said blankly. "They both loved you." A bitter smile curved the minister's lips. "At least Bithiah did not," he said. "Nonsense," replied Mrs. Johnson. "Why, she even struck Miss Arnott out of love for you. I am glad she's gone--but I'm sorry she's dead. I could not have my son marry a heathen; besides, she was most careless about housekeeping, too; you'd much better marry Miss Arnott, George. She's not young, but she's both rich and godly. She hated Bithiah." Johnson waited to hear no more, but returned to his study. Miss Arnott loved him; she hated Bithiah. These words rang in his ears. A fresh thought was born of them, which he at first refused to entertain, but it forced itself upon him. It formed itself into a question--into a series of questions: Had Miss Arnott followed and strangled Bithiah? Was it Miss Arnott who had concealed the girl's body in the field? She had frequently been in his study; she had quarrelled with Bithiah on the very night of the latter's disappearance. So she might have stolen the cord and killed Tera. "She was an actress once," muttered Johnson, "and in spite of grace she may have yielded to temptation. But no!" he shuddered, "even if the woman does love me, she would not have lost her soul by murder." To put an end to this new doubt with which he was battling, Johnson made up his mind to call on Miss Arnott. Since the rumours against him had been rife in the town he had been shy of going out; but in this instance there was no need for him to go far. Miss Arnott was his next door neighbour, and a very few steps would bring him to her door. Only a broken fence of slabs divided her garden from his, and there was really no need for him to step outside the boundary of his own grounds. However, he determined to pay his call with due ceremony, and putting on his tall hat, he stepped out of his own gate and through that of Miss Arnott. The whilom actress was a tall and stately woman. She had been beautiful, and was even now not without some remains of her early beauty. Her figure was still shapely and graceful. Not even the somewhat formless garments she now wore could hide completely the curves of her figure. In truth, she was but forty years of age, although her life of rigorous asceticism and self-denial made her look much older. Her eyes were large and dark--wonderfully eloquent in expression. There was no mistaking the look of devotion with which they fixed themselves on Johnson, as he was shown into her drawing-room. "This is indeed an honour," said she, giving him her hand with much grace. "Pray sit down, Mr. Johnson. You must have some tea."