‘I cannot ask you to break any confidence you have with Miss Gillies, but I am concerned about what sort of a diagnosis such a doctor might make.’

‘Ah,’ Mrs Argylle laid down her thread, ‘I think I understand where your mind is going, Miss Swansome. You worry at the cure?’

I nodded.

‘Try not to be too anxious. Miss Gillies is only doing what she feels is right. It’s her duty to see if something can be done to help her niece. She is pleased with you, I know that much. There is still a while before he returns.’

‘Returns?’

Mrs Argylle flushed. ‘I’m sure Miss Gillies will tell you, but yes, he will be coming again in three months if Mary does not make the necessary improvements. Has she shown further signs of speaking?’

I had to shake my head.

That evening, as we made our way to chapel, the mood amongst the villagers was buoyant and we stopped more than once in conversation. The boat had brought letters and money and there was an air of celebration.

By the time we arrived home, everyone was soaking: Miss Gillies shook her hat, freckling the tiles with droplets. I unbuttoned Mary’s coat to find her frock sopping beneath. Bobbity had been kept dry beneath the bodice of her dress.

In Mary’s room, I helped her out of her wet clothes.

‘Are you worried about the doctor?’ I asked.

She paused and her fingers found my hand which was busy at her buttons and stilled it. Her eyes sought mine and for a moment, it seemed as if she were trying to tell me something and her sadness was like a sudden piece of glass to my heart.

When she was changed, I told her to join her aunt by the fire and, sighing, I tucked her clothes under my arm and went to my own chamber. As I placed Mary’s things on a stool, something rattled in one of her pockets. Assuming it was shells, I felt around, but what I drew out was a pebble. It was dark and flat, but on its surface a figure had been drawn and on the other side a symbol had been scratched. The whole stone was wrapped around with hair. I could not imagine for what purpose such an object had been created.

But as I studied it, my discomposure grew. I opened the window and threw the pebble as far as I could.

My eyes skated up to Stack Mor and I noticed, for the first time, a strange jutting circle of rocks that lay on the ground next to it, too regular to be manufactured by nature. I moved closer to the glass but it was nearly fully dark and the rain began again, obliterating the view.

In the hall I stopped Mrs Lenister.

‘I noticed just now some stones up by Stack Mor.’