Part 8 (1/2)

The next day the sky was overcast. The sea looked smooth as gla.s.s, save that now and then it gave a mighty heave, as if some terrific monster beneath sought to lift a weight from his tired shoulders.

Sometimes we heard a moan sweeping across the waters; but we were familiar with the sound, living as we did close to the broad Atlantic.

As evening came on the sky grew darker, while my mind became full of the visit I was to make to old Deborah Teague. I made only a light meal, and as soon as I was able to do so, went alone to her cottage.

It was a little tumble-down shanty, standing beneath a hillock, and was as lonely a place as it was possible to be. Eighteen years of age though I was, my heart beat faster as I thought of Deborah living alone in a house that had the reputation of being haunted. What was I doing?

In spite of what the vicar had said, was it not wrong for me to hold converse with the strange old woman?

But I would not go back; and so making straight for the little window, through which I could see a candle dimly burning, I was soon face to face with her.

”Maaster Roger was 'fraid,” said the old woman, half questioningly, half wheedlingly.

”No,” I said, ”I don't think so.”

”The Trewinions was never 'fraid ov th' livin', my deer,” said the old woman, ”but the dead, ah, the dead.”

”They can do me no harm, so why should I be afraid?”

”Ah, why! ah! ha!” she giggled. ”But Maaster Roger es weth wawn that can do lots ov things.”

”Oh, yes, lots, Deborah,” I said; ”you can cure more diseases than any doctor in Truro.”

”And more than that, Maaster Roger; but don't you be 'fraid, my deer, I wa'ant hurt you.”

”No, I don't think you will; but why have you brought me here to-night?”

”Because I want to tell ee summin, my deer. Ah, Maaster Roger, tes terrible fur theer to be favourites in a house.”

I was silent.

”They say how maaster is maaster; tedn't allays so, my deer. Missus es maaster sometimes. They say I'm a witch, my deer, do'ant um? I read the Bible, Maaster Roger. Iss, an ould woman like me, and theer I've seed that Isaac loved Esau best, and 'Becca, she loved Jacob best.

Well, who got off best, my deer, hi? Iss, my deer, and they was twins, they both had wawn mawther.”

”What do you mean?”

”I main that Maaster Roger'll have to be keerful, my deer. Ah, theer's jillusy in curious plaaces.”

”I don't at all understand what you mean.”

”No, but you will, my deer. Do'ee mind what I zed to 'ee 'esterday arternoon, dedn't I tell 'ee as 'ow you'd git nothin' but black looks for all yer explainin'?”

”Yes, I remember.”

”Well, ded 'ee un. Was ould Debrah right or wrong?”

”You were right, Deborah; but then, I was in the wrong. I should not have hurt him so.”

The old woman chuckled as I spoke, as though I were trying to hoax her.

”And ef you wadn't in the wrong, they'd make ee in the wrong between 'em.”