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'She shrieked "Father," and her face looked 'No, don't, tell me how she looked! said Sinfi. 'Mr. Wilderspin's pictur' o' the witch and the lady shows how she looked whoever she was. But if it was Winnie Wynne. what'll become o' him? Then I heard. Cyril address Wilderspin again.
I knew that among all the Gypsies Sinfi was almost the only one who possessed that power which belonged once to her race, that power which is expressed in a Scottish word now universally misused, 'glamour, the power which Johnnie Faa and his people brought into play when they abducted Lady Casilis. Soon as they saw her well-faured face They cast the glamour oure her.
'I do, I said, 'and I am Cyril Aylwin's kinsman, whom you call his cousin, so perhaps, as every word your friend has said about Sinfi Lovell and me is false, you will allow me to call him a liar. A look of the greatest glee at the discomfiture of his companion overspread his face. 'Certainly, he said with a loud laugh.
Although Sinfi was still as splendid a woman as ever, I noticed a change in her. Her animal spirits had fled, and she had to me the appearance of a woman in trouble; but what her trouble was I could not guess, and I cannot now guess. Perhaps she had been jilted by some Gypsy swain. When Dr.
Cyril, who lay stretched among the ferns, his chin resting in his hands and a cigarette in his mouth, was looking on with the deepest interest. 'Brother, said Sinfi, turning to me, 'your thoughts are a-flyin' off agin; keep your spirits up afore all these.
As I walked about the hills I found myself repeating over and over again one of the verses which Winnie used to sing to me as a child at Raxton. But then I felt that Sinfi was the mere instrument of the mysterious magic of y Wyddfa, that magic which no other mountain in Europe exercises.
'My poor mammy's daddy, when she wur a little chavi, beat her so cruel that she was a ailin' woman all her life, and she used to say, "For good or for ill, you must dig deep to bury your daddy." I went back and resumed my seat by Wilderspin's side, while Sinfi returned to Cyril.
There's bin as much diggin' for them thousand guineas as was buried with Jerry Chilcott in Foxleigh Parish, where I was born, as would more nor pay for emptying a gold mine; but I never heard o' Christian folk a-buryin' jewels. But who are you? I felt a hand upon my shoulder, and looking round, I found Sinfi by my side. 'Does he belong to you, my gal?
'Take me to her at once take me to her who sat for this picture. It is she whom I and Sinfi Lovell were seeking in Wales. A look of utter astonishment, then one of painful perplexity, came over his face a look which I attributed to his having heard part of the conversation between my mother and myself. 'You mean the the model? She is not here, Mr. Aylwin, said he.
"Miss Wynne," he said, in a voice full of emotion, "I feel that an unlucky incident has come between us, and yet if I ever did anything for your good, it was when I decided to postpone revealing the fact that Sinfi Lovell was under this roof until her cure was so complete and decisive that you could never by any chance receive the shock that you have now received."
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