it boiled and heaved, bubbled and rose.  From its lowest depths it was moved to meet and receive her!  Coil upon coil it lifted itself into the air, towering like a waterspout, then stretched out a long, writhing, shivering neck to take her from the invisible arms that bore her to her doom.  The neck shot out a head, and the head shot out the tongue of a water-snake.  She shrieked and woke, bathed in terror.

With the memory of the dream not a little of its horror returned; she rose to shake it off, and went to the window.  What did she see there?  The fearsome pool had entered the garden, had come half-way to the house, and was plainly rising every moment.  More or less the pool had haunted her ever since she came; she had seldom dared go nearer it than half-way down the garden.  But for the dulling influence of her misery, it would have been an unendurable horror to her, now it was coming to fetch her as she had seen it in her warning dream!  Her brain reeled; for a moment she gazed paralyzed with horror, then turned from the window, and, with almost the conviction that the fiend of her vision was pursuing her, fled from the house, and across the park, through the sheets of rain, to the gate-lodge, nor stopped until, all unaware of having once thought of him in her terror, she stood at the door of Polwarth’s cottage.

Ruth was darting toward her with outstretched hands, when her uncle stopped her.

“Ruth, my child,” he said, “run and light a fire in the parlor.  I will welcome our visitor.”

She turned instantly, and left the room.  Then Polwarth went up to Juliet, who stood trembling, unable to utter a word, and said, with perfect old-fashioned courtesy, “You are heartily welcome, ma’am.  I sent Ruth away that I might first assure you that you are as safe with her as with me.  Sit here a moment, ma’am.  You are so wet, I dare not place you nearer to the fire.—­Ruth!”

She came instantly.

“Ruth,” he repeated, “this lady is Mrs. Faber.  She is come to visit us for a while.  Nobody must know of it.—­You need not be at all uneasy, Mrs. Faber.  Not a soul will come near us to-day.  But I will lock the door, to secure time, if any one should.—­You will get Mrs. Faber’s room ready at once, Ruth.  I will come and help you.  But a spoonful of brandy in hot water first, please.—­Let me move your chair a little, ma’am—­out of the draught.”

Juliet in silence did every thing she was told, received the prescribed antidote from Ruth, and was left alone in the kitchen.

But the moment she was freed from one dread, she was seized by another; suspicion took the place of terror; and as soon as she heard the toiling of the goblins up the creaking staircase, she crept to the foot of it after them, and with no more compunction than a princess in a fairy-tale, set herself to listen.  It was not difficult, for the little inclosed staircase carried every word to the bottom of it.