ught in my big pocket for the sake
of safety) shook so much that it came out, and I could not get it in
again. 'This serves me right,' I said to myself, 'for tampering with
Beelzebub. Oh that I had listened to parson!'

And thereupon I struck aside; not liking to run away quite, as some
people might call it; but seeking to look like a wanderer who was come
to see the valley, and had seen almost enough of it. Herein I should
have succeeded, and gone home, and then been angry at my want of
courage, but that on the very turn and bending of my footsteps, the
woman in the distance lifted up her staff to me, so that I was bound to
stop.

And now, being brought face to face, by the will of God (as one might
say) with anything that might come of it, I kept myself quite straight
and stiff, and thrust away all white feather, trusting in my Bible
still, hoping that it would protect me, though I had disobeyed it. But
upon that remembrance, my conscience took me by the leg, so that I could
not go forward.

All this while, the fearful woman was coming near and more near to me;
and I was glad to sit down on a rock because my knees were shaking so. I
tried to think of many things, but none of them would come to me; and I
could not take my eyes away, though I prayed God to be near me.

But when she was come so nigh to me that I could descry her features,
there was something in her countenance that made me not dislike her. She
looked as if she had been visited by many troubles, and had felt them
one by one, yet held enough of kindly nature still to grieve for others.
Long white hair, on either side, was falling down below her chin; and
through her wrinkles clear bright eyes seemed to spread themselves upon
me. Though I had plenty of time to think, I was taken by surprise no
less, and unable to say anything; yet eager to hear the silence broken,
and longing for a noise or two.

'Thou art not come to me,' she said, looking through my simple face, as
if it were but glass, 'to be struck for bone-shave, nor to be blessed
for barn-gun. Give me forth thy hand, John Ridd; and tell why thou art
come to me.'

But I was so much amazed at her knowing my name and all about me, that I
feared to place my hand in her power, or even my tongue by speaking.

'Have no fear of me, my son; I have no gift to harm thee; and if I had,
it should be idle. Now, if thou hast any wit, tell me why I love thee.'

'I never had any wit, mother,' I answered in ou