At about the hour, as far as I could guess, when I had first knocked at the cottage door at the beginning of my search for Winnie, I stood there again.  The door was on the latch.  I pushed it open.

The scene I then saw was so exact a repetition of what had met my eyes when for the first time I passed under that roof, that it did not seem as though it could be real; it seemed as though it must be a freak of memory:  the same long low room, the same heavy beams across the ceiling, the same three chairs, standing in the same places where they stood then, the same table, and upon it the crwth and bow.  There was a brisk fire, and over it hung the kettle—­the same kettle as then.  There were on the walls the same pictures, with the ruddy fingers of the fire-gleam playing upon them and illuminating them in the same pathetic way, and in front of the fire sitting upon the same chair, was a youthful female figure—­not Winnie’s figure, taller than hers, and grander than hers—­the figure of Sinfi, her elbows resting upon her knees, and her face sunk meditatively between her hands.

After standing for fully half a minute gazing at her, I went up to her, and laying my hand upon her shoulder, I said, ’This is a good sight for the Swimming Rei, Sinfi.’

At the touch of my hand a thrill seemed to dart through her frame; she leaped up and stared wildly in my face.  Her features became contorted by terror—­as horribly contorted as Winnie’s had been in the same spot and under the same circumstances.  Exactly the same terrible words fell upon my ear:—­

’Let his children be vagabonds and beg their bread:  let them seek it also out of desolate places.  So saith the Lord.  Amen.’

Then she fell on the floor insensible.

At first I was too astonished, awed, and bewildered to stir from the spot where I was standing.  Then I knelt down, and raising her shoulders, placed her head on my knee.  For a time the expression of horror on her pale features was fixed as though graven in marble.  A jug of water, from which the kettle had been supplied, stood on the floor in the recess.  I sprinkled some water over her face.  The muscles relaxed, she opened her eyes; the seizure had passed.  She recognised me, and at once the old brave smile I knew so well passed over her face.  Rhona’s words about the curse and the purchase of the dresses seemed explained now.  Long brooding over Winnie’s terrible fate had unhinged her mind.

‘My girl, my brave girl,’ I said, ’have you, then, felt our sorrow so deeply?  Have you so fully shared poor Winnie’s pain that your nerves have given way at last?  You are suffering through sympathy, Sinfi; you are suffering poor Winnie’s great martyrdom.’

‘Oh, it ain’t that!’ she said, ‘but how I must have skeared you!’

She got up and sat upon the chair in a much more vigorous way than I could have expected after such a seizure.