mmers had passed over her head since she first saw the light in the
great house of Long Melford, a nursery in which she learnt to fear God
and take her own part, and a place the very name of which she came to
regard as a synonym for a strong right arm. Borrow's first impression of
her was one of immensity; she was big enough, he said, to have been born
in a church; almost simultaneously, he observed her affinity to those
Scandinavian divinities to which he assigned the first place in the
pantheon of his affections. She reminded him, indeed, of the legendary
Ingeborg, queen of Norway. It is remarkable, and well worth noticing,
that the impression that she produced was instantaneous. Our wanderer
had never been impressed in any similar fashion by any of the gypsy women
with whom he was brought into contact, though, as many a legend and
ballad can attest, such women have often exerted extraordinary attraction
over Englishmen of pure blood. But it is evident that his physical
admiration was reserved for a tall blonde of the Scandinavian type, to
which he gave the name of a Brynhilde. Hence, notwithstanding his love
of the economics of gypsy life, his gypsy women are for the most part no
more than scenic characters; they clothe and beautify the scene, but they
have little dramatic force about them. And when he comes to delineate a
heroine, Isopel Berners, she is physically the very opposite of a Romany
chi.

Fewer words will suffice to describe Isopel's first impressions of her
future partner in the dingle. She unmistakably regarded him as a
chaffing fellow who was not quite right in his head; and there is reason
for believing, that, though she came to entertain a genuine regard for
the young 'squire,' her opinions as to the condition of his brain
underwent no sensible modification. She herself is fairly explicit on
this subject: she seems indeed to have arrived at the deliberate
conviction that, if not abnormally selfish, he was at any rate
fundamentally mad; and there was perhaps a germ of truth in the
conclusion, sufficient at any rate to colour Lombroso's theory of the
inherent madness of men of genius. One of the testimonies that we have
as to Borrow's later life at Oulton is to the effect that he got
bewildered at times and fancied himself Wodin; but the substratum of
sanity is strongly exhibited in the remedy which he himself applied.
"What do you think I do when I get bewildered after this fashion? I go
ou