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-pheemous 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.'

'Well, cripple or no cripple, he's _Henry_. I half thought it as soon
as he began askin' about her. Now, my fine Gorgio, what do you and
your fine feyther mean by cussin' Winnie Wynne? You've jist about
broke her heart among ye. If you want to cuss you'd better cuss me;'
and she sprang up in an attitude that showed me at once that she was
a skilled boxer.

The male Gypsy rose and buttoned his coat over his waistcoat. I
thought he was going to attack me. Instead of this, he said to the
landlord:

'_She's_ in for a set-to agin. She's sure to quarrel with me if I
interferes, so I'll just go on to the plac