For my part (do not forget what a young man I was in those days), I made
up my mind to reply in the friendliest manner--that is to say, in person.

After consulting my watch, I satisfied myself that I could go to the
mill, and get back again, before the hour fixed for our late
dinner--supper we should have called it in Germany. For the second time
that day, and without any hesitation, I took the road that led to
Fordwitch Wood.

Crossing the glade, I encountered a stout young woman, filling a can with
water from the spring. She curtseyed on seeing me. I asked if she
belonged to the village.

The reply informed me that I had taken another of my servants for a
stranger. The stout nymph of the spring was my kitchen-maid; and she was
fetching the water which we drank at the house; "and there's no water,
sir, like _yours_ for all the country round." Furnished with these stores
of information, I went my way, and the kitchen-maid went hers. She spoke,
of course, of having seen her new master, on returning to the servants'
hall. In this manner, as I afterwards heard, the discovery of me at the
spring, and my departure by the path that led to the mill, reached Mrs.
Roylake's ears--the medium of information being the lady's own maid. So
far, Fordwitch Wood seemed to be a place to avoid, in the interests of my
domestic tranquillity.

Arriving at the cottage, I found the Lodger standing by the open window
at which I had first seen him.

But on this occasion, his personal appearance had undergone a singular
process of transformation. The lower part of his face, from his nostrils