"How the wind whistles! Well, it is cold to-night! There'll be nobody
coming now to consult the Wise Woman. We may as well lie down, Gib--
it's the only warm place, bed is. Holy saints! what's that?"

She listened intently for a moment, and Gib, with erect tail, went to
the door and smelt under it. Then he looked back at his mistress, and
said once more,--"Me-ew!"

"Somebody there, is there? A bit frightened, I shouldn't wonder. Come
in, then--there's nought to fear,"--and she opened the crazy door of her
hut. "Well, can't you come in--must I lift you up? Why, what--Mary,
Mother!"

Half lifting, half dragging, for very little strength was left her, the
old woman managed to pull her visitor inside. Then she bolted the door,
and stooping down, with hands so gentle that they might have been an
infant's, softly drew away from a young scarred face the snow-saturated
hair.

"Ay, I see, my dear, I see! Don't you try to speak. I can guess what
you are, and whence you come. I heard tell what had happened. Don't
you stir, now, but just drink a drop of this warm mallow tea--the finest
thing going for one in your condition. I can't give you raiment, for
I've none for myself, but we'll see to-morrow if I can't get hold o'
somewhat: you've not been used to wear rags. I'll have 'em, if I steal
'em. Now, don't look at me so reproachful-like! well, then, I'll beg
'em, if it worries you. Oh, you're safe here, my dear! you've no need
to look round to see if no villains is a-coming after you. They'll not
turn up in these quarters, take my word for it. Not one o' them would
come near the witch's hut after nightfall. But I'm no witch, my
dearie--only a poor old woman as God and the blessed saints have quite
forgot, and folks are feared of me."

"The Lord never forgets," the parched lips tried to say.

"Don't He? Hasn't He forgot both you and me, now?"

"No--never!"

"Well, well, my dear! Lie still, and you shall tell me any thing you
will presently. Have another sup!--just one at once, and often--you'll
soon come round. I know some'at about herbs and such-like, if I know
nought else. See, let me lay this bundle of straw under your head;
isn't that more comfortable, now? Poor thing, now what are you a-crying
for?--does your face pain you bad? I'll lay some herbs to it, and you
won't have so much as a scar there when they've done their work. Ay, I
know some'at about herbs, I do! Deary me, for sure!--p