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 pretend to understand it. Grandmother would say it was second sight, of course. Naturally, she’s a firm believer in that, like all the Highland folk.”

“Oh—I’m sure I haven’t second sight,” protested Emily. “I must just have dreamed it—and got up in my sleep—but, then, I can’t draw.”

“Something used you as an instrument then,” said Dr. McIntyre. “After all, Grandmother’s explanation of second sight is just as reasonable as anything else, when one is compelled to believe an unbelievable thing.”

“I’d rather not talk of it,” said Emily, with a shiver. “I’m so glad Allan has been found—but don’t tell people about my part in it. Let them think it just occurred to you to search inside the Scobie house. I—I couldn’t bear to have this talked of all over the country.”

When they left the little white house on the windy hill the sun was breaking through the clouds and the harbour waters were dancing madly in it. The landscape was full of the wild beauty that comes in the wake of a spent storm and the Western Road stretched before them in loop and hill and dip of wet, red allurement; but Emily turned away from it.

“I’m going to leave it for my next trip,” she said. “I can’t go canvassing today, somehow. Friend of my heart, let’s go to Malvern Bridge and take the morning train to Shrewsbury.”

“It—was—awfulyawfully [sic] funny—about your dream,” said Ilse. “It makes me a little afraid of you, Emily—somehow.”

“Oh, don’t be afraid of me,” implored Emily. “It was only a coincidence. I was thinking of him so much—and the house took possession of me yesterday”

“Remember how you found out about Mother?” said Ilse, in a low tone. “You some power the rest of us haven't.”

“Perhaps I’ll grow out of it,” said Emily desperately. “I hope so—I don’t to have any such power—you don’t know how I feel about it, Ilse. It seems to me a terrible thing—as if I were marked out in some uncanny