"Doan't'ee be a vool no longer," said a voice at the door; "Stop!" said a strange, croaking voice, and turning, I saw the form of Deborah Teague, more bent and more wrinkled than when I last saw her.
"I seed Maaster Roger comin' up here," said the old dame, "and I vollied un. You've a gived me a good dail of liberty in this ere 'ouse, and so no noatice was took of me when I stopped and 'arkened at the door. I knaw every word that ev bin zed, and this I can tell 'ee, no curse can hurt Maaster Roger now."
"Why?" asked my mother.
"Why? Because you ca'ant hurt nobody who's heart es vull of love. Curse hes cheldren you may if ever he do 'ave any, ay even to the third generation; because you be a Trewinion, but he you ca'ant curse, for 'ee do love hes enemies, and he do bless them that do curse him. Ef he were ere with hes heart full of revenge and hatred, then 'twould be defferent, but you ca'ant hurt un now."
"Then," cried Wilfred, "if there is truth in this story, I curse his children and his children's children, for he has robbed me of everything that makes life worth the living."
When the old woman had gone I turned and looked at my mother's face. A marked change had come over it in the last few minutes. She seemed to be making a great resolve.
"Mother," said Wilfred, "what are we to do?"
But she did not speak; a stony stare had settled on her face.
"What is the matter with you?" asked Wilfred, anxiously; "tell me?"
Still she did not answer him, but instead stepped out into the hall, where old Peter Polperrow stood waiting as if he expected some wonderful transformation.