The preceding winter had been remarkably severe, the snow
drifting to a great depth, and the frost continuing for an unexampled
period, and the summer following was as noteworthy for its extreme heat. On one of the very hottest days in this summer, Helen V. left the
farmhouse for one of her long rambles in the forest, taking with her, as
usual, some bread and meat for lunch. She was seen by some men in the
fields making for the old Roman Road, a green causeway which traverses
the highest part of the wood, and they were astonished to observe that
the girl had taken off her hat, though the heat of the sun was already
almost tropical. As it happened, a labourer, Joseph W. by name, was
working in the forest near the Roman Road, and at twelve o'clock his
little son, Trevor, brought the man his dinner of bread and cheese. After the meal, the boy, who was about seven years old at the time, left
his father at work, and, as he said, went to look for flowers in the
wood, and the man, who could hear him shouting with delight over his
discoveries, felt no uneasiness. Suddenly, however, he was horrified at
hearing the most dreadful screams, evidently the result of great terror,
proceeding from the direction in which his son had gone, and he hastily
threw down his tools and ran to see what had happened. Tracing his path
by the sound, he met the little boy, who was running headlong, and was
evidently terribly frightened, and on questioning him the man at last
elicited that after picking a posy of flowers he felt tired, and lay
down on the grass and fell asleep. He was suddenly awakened, as he
stated, by a peculiar noise, a sort of singing he called it, and on
peeping through the branches he saw Helen V. playing on the grass with a
'strange naked man,' whom he seemed unable to describe more fully. He
said he felt dreadfully frightened, and ran away crying for his father. Joseph W. proceeded in the direction indicated by his son, and found
Helen V. sitting on the grass in the middle of a glade or open space
left by charcoal burners. He angrily charged her with frightening his
little boy, but she entirely denied the accusation and laughed at the
child's story of a 'strange man,' to which he himself did not attach
much credence. Joseph W. came to the conclusion that the boy had woke up
with a sudden fright, as children sometimes do, but Trevor persisted in
his story, and continued in such evident distress that at last his
father took him home, hoping that his mother would be able to soothe
him. For many weeks, however, the boy gave his parents much anxiety; he
became nervous and strange in his manner, refusing to leave the cottage
by himself, and constantly alarming the household by waking in the night
with cries of 'The man in the wood! father! father!' In course of time, however, the impression seemed to have worn off, and
about three months later he accompanied his father to the house of a
gentleman in the neighbourhood, for whom Joseph W. occasionally did
work. The man was shown into the study, and the little boy was left
sitting in the hall, and a few minutes later, while the gentleman was
giving W. his instructions, they were both horrified by a piercing
shriek and the sound of a fall, and rushing out they found the child
lying senseless on the floor, his face contorted with terror. The doctor
was immediately summoned, and after some examination he pronounced the
child to be suffering from a kind of fit, apparently produced by a
sudden shock. The boy was taken to one of the bedrooms, and after some
time recovered consciousness, but only to pass into a condition
described by the medical man as one of violent hysteria. The doctor
exhibited a strong sedative, and in the course of two hours pronounced
him fit to walk home, but in passing through the hall the paroxysms of
fright returned and with additional violence. The father perceived that
the child was pointing at some object, and heard the old cry, 'The man
in the wood,' and looking in the direction indicated saw a stone head of
grotesque appearance, which had been built into the wall above one of
the doors. It seems that the owner of the house had recently made
alterations in his premises, and on digging the foundation for some
offices, the men had found a curious head, evidently of the Roman
period, which had been placed in the hall in the manner described. The
head is pronounced by the most experienced archaeologists of the
district to be that of a faun or satyr. [1]

[1] Dr. Phillips tells me that he has seen the head in question, and
assures me that he has never received such a vivid presentment of
intense evil. From whatever cause arising, this second shock seemed too severe for the
boy Trevor, and at the present date he suffers from a weakness of
intellect, which gives but little promise of amending. The matter caused
a good deal of sensation at the time, and the girl Helen was closely
questioned by Mr. R., but to no purpose, she steadfastly denying that
she had frightened or in any way molested Trevor. The second event with which this girl's name is connected took place
about six years ago, and is of a still more extraordinary character. At the beginning of the summer of 1882 Helen contracted a friendship of
a peculiarly intimate character with Rachel M., the daughter of a
prosperous farmer in the neighbourhood. This girl, who was a year
younger than Helen, was considered by most people to be the prettier of
the two, though Helen's features had to a great extent softened as she
became older. The two girls, who were together on every available
opportunity, presented a singular contrast, the one with her clear,
olive skin and almost Italian appearance, and the other of the
proverbial red and white of our rural districts. It must be stated that
the payments made to Mr. R. for the maintenance of Helen were known in
the village for their excessive liberality, and the impression was
general that she would one day inherit a large sum of money from her
relative. The parents of Rachel were therefore not averse from their
daughter's friendship with the girl, and even encouraged the intimacy,
though they now bitterly regret having done so. Helen still retained her
extraordinary fondness for the forest, and on several occasions Rachel
accompanied her, the two friends setting out early in the morning, and
remaining in the wood till dusk. Once or twice after these excursions
Mrs. M. thought her daughter's manner rather peculiar; she seemed
languid and dreamy, and as it has been expressed, 'different from
herself,' but these peculiarities seem to have been thought too trifling
for remark. One evening, however, after Rachel had come home, her mother
heard a noise which sounded like suppressed weeping in the girl's room,
and on going in found her lying, half undressed, upon the bed, evidently
in the greatest distress. As soon as she saw her mother, she exclaimed,
'Ah, mother, mother, why did you let me go to the forest with Helen?'