I was now apparently close on the discovery which I had striven
so many months to attain. But success had lost its zest. I put my
letters down, and seemed to forget them all in thinking of the
morning I had passed that very day. Nothing was real but the unreal
presence, which had come like an evil blast across my bodily eyes,
and burnt itself down upon my brain. Dinner came, and went away
untouched. Early in the afternoon I walked to the farm-house. I
found Mistress Clarke alone, and I was glad and relieved. She was
evidently prepared to tell me all I might wish to hear.
'You asked me for Mistress Lucy's true name; it is Gisborne,'
she began.
'Not Gisborne of Skipford?' I exclaimed, breathless with
anticipation.
'The same,' said she, quietly, not regarding my manner. 'Her
fat
