"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?