'You will, Roland Lee?' She turned, with a look of disappointment, to the other man, who was so easily pleased and who said such beautiful things. 'It is my own wine--I made it myself last year, of ripe blackberries.' 'Indeed I will! Your own wine? Your own making, Miss Armorel? Wine of Samson--the glorious vintage of the blackberry! In pies and in jam-pots I know the blackberry, but not, as yet, in decanters. Thank you, thank you!' He smiled heroically while he held the glass to the light, smelt it, rolled it gently round. Then he tasted it. 'Sweet,' he said, critically. 'And strong. Clings to the palate. A liqueur wine--a curious wine.' He drank it up, and smiled again. 'Your own making! It is wonderful! No--not another drop, thank you!' 'Shall I show you?'--the girl asked, timidly--'would you like to see my great-great-grandmother? She is so very old that the people come all the way from St. Agnes only just to look at her. Sometimes she answers questions for them, and they think it is telling their fortunes. She is asleep. But you may talk aloud. You will not awaken her. She is so very, very old, you know. Consider: she has been a widow nearly eighty years.' She led them into the other room, where, in effect, the ancient dame sat in her hooded chair fast asleep, in cap and bonnet, her hands, in black mittens, crossed. 'Heavens!' Roland murmured. 'What a face! I must draw that face! And'--he looked at the girl bending over the chair placing a pillow in position--'and that other. It is wonderful!' he said aloud. 'This is, indeed, the face of one who has lived a hundred years. Does she sometimes wake up and talk?' 'In the evening she recovers her memory for awhile and talks--sometimes quite nicely, sometimes she rambles.' 'And you have a spinning-wheel in the corner.' 'She likes someone to work at the spinning-wheel while she talks. Then she thinks it is the old time back again.' 'And there is a violin.' 'I play it in the evening. It keeps her awake, and helps her to remember. Justinian taught me. He used to play very well indeed until his fingers grew stiff. I can play a great many tunes, but it is difficult to learn any new ones. Last summer there were some ladies at Tregarthen's--one of them had a most beautiful voice, and she used to sing in the evening with the window open. I used to sail across on purpose to land and listen outside. And I learned a very pretty tune. I would play it to you in the evening if you were not going away.' 'I am not obliged to go away,' the young man said, with strangely flushing cheeks. 'Roland!' That was Dick's voice--but it was unheeded. 'Will you stay here, then?' the girl asked. 'Here in this house? In your house?' 'You can have my brother Emanuel's room. I shall be very glad if you will stay. And I will show you everything.' She did not invite the young man called Dick, but this other, the young man who drank her wine and ate her apple.