"Folks say there's few things yer don't know," replied Matthew, somewhat scared at her fierce tone. "Folks are fools!" "Some of 'em; not all. Most say yer knows everything, and can give philters and charms for sickness and heart-ache and the like." "Folks are fools!" repeated she again. "Well I know nothing, nor don't want to; but," said he, dropping his voice to a whisper, "if yer could only give me a charm to keep _her_ tongue quiet," and he pointed with his thumb meaningly over his shoulder in the direction of the cottage, "I'd bless yer from the bottom of my heart as long as I live." "What blessing will you give me?" Matthew considered a moment, as the question somewhat puzzled him. Here was a woman who had apparently neither kith nor kin belonging to her, one who stood, as far as he could see, alone in the world. How was he to give her a blessing? She had neither children, nor husband to be kind or unkind to her; she might be a prosperous woman for aught he or the neighbours knew, or she might be the very reverse. She never seemed to crave for sympathy from anyone, but rather to shun it, and never allowed a question of herself on former days to be asked, without growing angry, and if it was repeated, or persisted in, violent. Presently Matthew hit upon what he thought a safe expedient. "What blessing do yer most want?" he asked cunningly. "None! I want none." "I'll give yer one Ma'am all the same. Most of us wish for something, and I'll pray that the one wish of yer heart, whatever it is, yer may get." "How dare you wish me that?" she said in a fierce tone, "how dare you know I've any wish at all?" "'Cos I do. That's all," replied Matthew sullenly. "Who told you? Speak! Answer!" "Good Lord! Mrs. Grey, ma'am; how you scare a man. Who should tell me? I don't know nothing at all about yer; how should I? All I know is that most folks has wishes of some kind or another; nobody's satisfied in this world, and in course you ain't, and so I just wished yer might be, that's all; there's no great harm in that, is there?" "I told you folks were fools; but I think you are the biggest fool of the lot." "Come, come, don't let's have words. I didn't mean to vex yer, you're a lone woman with not a soul to stand by yer, and the Lord knows what you've got on yer mind." Then seeing her eyes flashed again he hastened to change the subject. "It's a fine evening, anyhow," said he. "We shall have rain." "Rain!" and Matthew looked up overhead, but not a vestige of a cloud or sign of a storm could he see. "Yes, rain, heavy rain, like the weeping of a stricken, woeful heart." And she was passing on; but Matthew could not let her go so; he must have the charm, even at the risk of offending her again. He had thought of it for days past, it was the one wish of his heart; he had longed and sought for this opportunity and it must not slip through his fingers thus, so he said meekly, but still rather doubtfully,