intermittent sound of splashing in the water. Pausing to listen, I heard
next the working of oars in their rowlocks. After another interval a boat
appeared, turning a projection in the bank, and rowed by a woman pulling
steadily against the stream.

As the boat approached me in the moonlight, this person corrected my
first impression, and revealed herself as a young girl. So far as I could
perceive she was a stranger to me. Who could the girl be, alone on the
river at that time of night? Idly curious I followed the boat, instead of
pursuing my way to the village, to see whether she would stop at the
mill, or pass it.

She stopped at the mill, secured the boat, and stepped on shore.

Taking a key from her pocket, she was about to open the door of the
cottage, when I advanced and spoke to her. As far from recognizing her as
ever, I found myself nevertheless thinking of an odd outspoken child,
living at the mill in past years, who had been one of my poor mother's
favorites at our village school. I ran the risk of offending her, by
bluntly expressing the thought which was then in my mind.

"Is it possible that you are Cristel Toller?" I said.

The question seemed to amuse her. "Why shouldn't I be Cristel Toller?"
she asked.

"You were a little girl," I explained, "when I saw you last. You are so
altered now--and so improved--that I should never have guessed you might
be the daughter of Giles Toller of the mill, if I had not seen you
opening the cottage door."