le to explain, that to say she was possessed of a
power that was not natural would be unwise. And yet I have been fed
upon strange mental food, and have been led to believe in things at
which some laugh.

"What does she mean, Roger?" said Ruth, when she had gone.

I was silent.

"Do you think she is a witch?" she continued; "she looks like one."

"She is a strange old woman," I said, as lightly as I could, for I did
not want Ruth to be made anxious, "and some think she is a witch; but
Mr. Polperrow says she is only a clever old woman who knows more than
the common run of villagers."

She was about to ask more questions when we saw my father, Wilfred, and
my sisters coming towards us. Both my sisters gave a shout of joy, and
I saw a glad look in my father's eyes. But Wilfred's face was black as
night, and the gleam of a devil flashed in his eyes. He did not speak,
and while the others were anxiously asking questions as to what we did
and how we had managed, Wilfred stood and glared savagely at me. His
eyes became red, and his face like the face of a corpse.

I asked myself whether my father had accused him of being a coward, or
if my sisters had been foolishly praising me, as they sometimes did,
for neither Katherine nor Elizabeth seemed to realise how rough and
uncouth I was. I noticed, however, that when Ruth began to magnify
what I had done, as in her exaggerated notions of things she did, he
gave a cynical, sarcastic laugh, and walked back to the house alone.

Did Wilfred care so much about praise, I wondered, or was he bitter
towards me because I was heir to the Trewinion lands? Why else should
he be so unbrotherly to me?

I do not think my sisters did Ruth any good by talking to her about her
danger, for it brought back to her that faintness which she experienced
upon the sands, so we soon took her indoors, where, being able to rest
in quietness, she recovered.

I do not think it is my nature to remain unfriendly with any one, so I
made an opportunity of trying to find Wilfred, in order to know what I
had done to offend him. I found, however, that he was with my mother,
and did not wish to be seen.

Again Deborah Teague's words came back to me. Was Wilfred's mother my
mother? If so, why was it she never allowed me into her private room?
Why were there no confidences between us as there were between her and
my brother? Was she the cause of my brother's anger?

That evening we all sat together