'Ah, you _would_, though,' said the girl, ''cause I'd ha' _made_ you take it. Winnie Wynne was the only one on 'em, Gorgio or Gorgie, ever I liked, and nobody's got no right to see arter her only me, and that's why I'm about here _now_, if you _must_ know; but nobody's got no right to see arter her only me, and nobody sha'n't nuther. They might go and skear her to run up the hills, and she might dash herself all to flactions in no time.' 'Don't take on so, Sinfi,' said the landlord. 'When they are in that way they allus turns agin them as they was fond on.' 'Then you noticed as she was fond o' me, Mr. Blyth,' said the girl with great earnestness. 'Of course she was fond on you, Sinfi; everybody knows that.' 'Yes,' said the girl, now much affected, '_every_ body knowed it, _every_ body knowed as she was fond o' me. And to see her look at me like _that_--it was a cruel sight, Mr. Blyth, I can tell you. Such a look you never see'd in all your life, Mr. Blyth.' 'Then I take it she's in the house now?' said the landlord. 'She goes prowlin' about all day among the hills, as if she was a-lookin' for somebody; and she talks to somebody as she calls the Tywysog o'r Niwl, an' I know that's Welsh for the "Prince o' the Mist"; but back she comes at night. She talks to herself a good deal; and she sings to herself the Welsh gillies what Mrs. Davies larnt her in a v'ice as seems as if she wur a-singin' in her sleep, but it's very sweet to hear it. Yesterday I crep' near her when she was a-sittin' down lookin' at herself in that 'ere llyn where the water's so clear, "Knockers' Llyn," as they calls it, where her and me and Rhona Boswell used to go. And I heard her say she was "cussed by Henry's feyther." And then I heard her talk to somebody agin, as she called the Prince of the Mist; but it's herself as she's a-talkin' to all the while.' 'Cursed by Henry's father! What curse could any superstitious mystic call down upon the head of Winifred? The heaven that would answer a call of that kind would be a heaven for zanies and tomfools!' I shouted, in a paroxysm of rage against the entire besotted human race. '_That_ for the curse!' I cried, snapping my fingers. '_I_ am Henry, and I am come to share the curse, if there is one.' 'Young man,' interposed the landlord, 'such blas-pheémous langige as that must not be spoke here; I ain't a-goin' to have _my_ good beer turned to vinegar by blasphemin' them as owns the thunder, I can tell you.' But the effect of my words upon the Gypsy was that of a spark in a powder-mine. 'Henry?' she said, 'Henry? are _you_ the fine rei as she used to talk about? Are you the fine cripple as she was so fond on? Yes, Beng te tassa mandi if you ain't Henry his very self.' 'Don't,' remonstrated the landlord, 'don't meddle with the gentleman, Sinfi. He ain't a cripple, as you can see.'