with you now. You can
wait a couple of months, can you not?"

"But--"

"You must wait, George. I love you, and I will follow you and be your
true and devoted wife. But you must wait a little. Say you agree, and
let us part until we meet again--where? In New York?"

"I suppose so," Mr. Parmalee responded, gruffly. "You're boss in this
business, it seems, and I've got to do as you say. But it's hard on a
fellow; I calk'lated on taking you over with me."

"Would you have me go to you penniless? I will come to you with a
fortune. Believe me, trust me, and wait. You will be on the stone
terrace at twelve to-night?"

"She will," said the American. "I'll wait in the boat. 'Tain't likely
they want me to be present at their interview. Just remind my lady to
fetch along the three hundred pounds, and don't let her fail to come.
I want to sail in the 'Angelina Dobbs' to-night."

"She will not fail. She will come."

Her eyes blazed up with a lurid fire as she said it.

"She will be there," she said, "and she shall fetch the three hundred
pounds. Do you not fail!"

"I will not. Will you be there, too, Sybilla?"

"I? Of course not. There is no need of me."

"Then we say good-bye here?"

"Yes. Good-bye until we meet in New York."

"I will write to you from there," he said, wringing her hand.
"Good-bye, Sybilla! I will be at the trysting-place to-night. Be sure
the other party is, too."

"Without fail. Adieu, and--forever!"

She waved her hand and flitted away, uttering the last word under her
breath.

Mr. Parmalee watched her out of sight, heaved a heavy sigh, and went
back to the house.

Swiftly Sybilla Silver fluttered along in the chill evening wind, her
face to the sunset sky. But not the pale luster of that February
sunset lighted her dark face with that lurid light--the flame burned
within. Two fierce red spots blazed on either cheek: her eyes glowed
like living coals; her hands were clinched under her shawl.

"She will be there," she whispered, under her breath--"she will be
there, but she never will return. By the wrongs of the dead, by the
vengeance I have sworn, this night shall be her last on earth. And he
shall pay the penalty--my oath will be kept, the astrologer's
prediction fulfilled, and Zenith the gypsy avenged!"

CHAPTER XXVII.

"HAVE YOU PRAYED TO-NIGHT, DESDEMONA?"

The sun went down--a fierce and wrathful sunset. Black and brazen
yellow flamed in the wes