Hertha smiled.
“I do not feel that it was,” she said. “At least, my hands were strengthened very strangely. I—Celia,” she broke off abruptly, “I want to ask you something. Has the White Weeper been heard of or seen of late?”
“No, I believe not once,” said Celia in surprise.
Hertha bent her head in sign of satisfaction.
“I thought so,” she said. “Celia,” she went on, “I think I will tell you now what I have never told any one but Winifred.”
And she related the story of her strange experience that moonlight night at White Turrets.
Celia listened breathlessly, her face growing a shade paler.
“How extraordinary, how strange!” she exclaimed. “And you think Winifred was really influenced by it?”
“At least she did not mock at it—not in the very slightest,” said Hertha. “And—there was something more, that day she fainted, you remember?”
“Yes,” said Celia.