and told the servant to show her in.

The old woman came in mumbling as usual. She waited for no greeting,
and took no notice of my mother's harsh look.

"Maaster Trewinion," she said, lifting the forefinger of her skinny
right hand, "expect!"

She stood up nearly straight as she spoke, and I thought of the Jewess
prophetess whose name she bore.

"Expect!" she repeated. "Expect a stranger and expect a storm."

"What do you mean, Deborah?" asked my father kindly.

"Just that," she replied. "I ha'ant a vollied the fortins of this eer
ous for nothin', and I say expect."

"A stranger and a storm," repeated my father. "The storm would be
nothing to wonder at, the weather is so changeable, but the
stranger----"

"Es a woman," said the old crone, "and a young woman. I cud tell--but
I wa'ant."

"Could tell what?"

"Clouds, and storms, and darkness!"

"Come, tell us."

"No, Maaster Trewinion, I be'ant zackly sure, but this I zay, git yer
booats ready to help the perishin', and it may be as ow the stranger
and the storm'll be together, like."

The old woman went away at this, while father, always heedful of what
Deborah might tell him, asked me to order some men to get the strongest
and best boats in readiness.

As I went down to the village which lies in the hollow near our house,
I remembered the curious looks that passed between my mother and
Wilfred while Deborah had been talking, and then I thought of my
promise to meet Deborah at nine o'clock the next night. I wondered
whether I ought to do so or not, and as the night gathered around I
almost shuddered at the thought of meeting her alone. Had she, I asked
myself, intercourse with evil spirits? Had she given herself to the
devil for knowledge and evil power, as it was reported she had done?

I reached the village at length and went in search of the men my father
had mentioned. There was a harbour near, and as at the time of which I
write a good number of people lived in the village, most of whom
managed to do a great deal of fishing throughout the year, a number of
boats had been built.

After telling the men to make preparations for a storm, I was about to
go back to the Manor House, when the question of Deborah Teague came
into my mind again. What had she to tell me? And ought I to listen to
what she had to say?

I could not for a long time make up my mind. On the one hand was a
great curiosity as to what she had to tell me, besides an a