so much.  Yes, set it down here—­where I can open it myself, tall sir.  Eh,—­what’s this?—­Tea!  God bless you for the tea, my dear!  And eggs, and butter,—­and a cold chicken!—­the Lord bless your kind heart, Miss Anthea!  Ah, my proud lady, happy the man who shall win ye!  Happy the man who shall wed ye, my dark, beautiful maid.  And strong must he be, aye, and masterful he who shall wake the love-light in those dark, great, passionate eyes of yours.  And there is no man in all this world can do it but he must be a golden man—­wi’ the Tiger-mark upon him.”

“Why—­oh Nannie—!”

“Aye,—­blush if ye will, my dark lady, but Mother Dibbin knows she’s seen it in the fire, dreamed it in her dreams, and read it in the ink.  The path lies very dark afore ye, my lady,—­aye very dark it be, and full o’ cares, and troubles, but there’s the sun shining beyond,—­bright, and golden.  You be proud, and high, and scornful, my lady,—­’tis in your blood,—­you’ll need a strong hand to guide ye,—­and the strong hand shall come.  By force you shall be wooed, and by force you shall be wed,—­and there be no man strong enough to woo, and wed ye, but him as I’ve told ye of—­him as bears the Tiger-mark.”

“But Nannie,” said Anthea again, gently interrupting her, and patting the old woman’s shrivelled hand, “you’re forgetting the basket,—­you haven’t found all we’ve brought you, yet.”

“Aye, aye!” nodded old Nannie, “the fine, strong basket,—­let’s see what more be in the good, kind basket.  Here’s bread, and sugar,—­and—­”

“A pound of your favourite tobacco!” said Anthea, with a smiling nod.

“Oh the good weed!  The blessed weed!” cried the old woman, clutching the package with trembling fingers.  “Ah! who can tell the comfort it has been to me in the long, long days, and the long, long nights,—­the blessed weed! when I’ve sat here a looking and a looking into the fire.  God bless you, my sweet maid, for your kindly thought!” and, with a sudden gesture, she caught Anthea’s hand to her lips, and then, just as suddenly turned upon Bellew.

“And now, tall sir, can I do ought for ye?  Shall I look into the fire for ye, or the ink, or read your hand?”

“Why yes,” answered Bellew, stretching out his hand to her, “you shall tell me two things, if you will; first, shall one ever find his way into the ‘Castle of Heart’s Desire,’ and secondly;—­When?”

“Oh, but I don’t need to look into your hand to tell you that, tall sir, nor yet in the ink, or in the fire, for I’ve dreamed it all in my dreams.  And now, see you, ‘tis a strong place, this Castle,—­wi’ thick doors, and great locks, and bars.  But I have seen those doors broke’ down,—­those great locks, and bars burst asunder,—­but—­there is none can do this but him as bears the Tiger-Mark.  So much for the first.  And, for the second,—­Happiness shall come a riding to you on the full moon,—­but you must reach up—­and take it for yourself,—­if you be tall enough.”