She stands quite still, and then stares about, sometimes for an hour together.

Nobody knows who she is, or why she came.

She has taken a tumble-down house on my manor, from a wretch of a fellow who denies my title; and what she lives on is more than any one can tell, for she never spends sixpence in Bruntsea.

Some think that she walks in the dark to Newport, and gets all her food at some ship stores there.

And one of our fishermen vows that he met her walking on the sea, as he rowed home one night, and she had a long red bag on her shoulder.
She is a witch, that is certain; for she won't answer me, however politely I accost her.