u may well ask whether that old dried-up _otomy_, who ought to
grin in a glass case for folks to stare at, be kith and kin of such a
bang-up cove as your fancy man, Luke," said Turpin, laughing--"but i'
faith he is."

"Though he is your grandsire, Luke," said Sybil, "I like him not. His
glance resembles that of the Evil Eye."

And, in fact, the look which Peter fixed upon her was such as the
rattlesnake casts upon its victim, and Sybil felt like a poor fluttering
bird under the fascination of that venomous reptile. She could not
remove her eyes from his, though she trembled as she gazed. We have said
that Peter's orbs were like those of the toad. Age had not dimmed their
brilliancy. In his harsh features you could only read bitter scorn or
withering hate; but in his eyes resided a magnetic influence of
attraction or repulsion. Sybil underwent the former feeling in a
disagreeable degree. She was drawn to him as by the motion of a
whirlpool, and involuntarily clung to her lover.

"It is the Evil Eye, dear Luke."

"Tut, tut, dear Sybil; I tell you it is my grandsire."

"The girl says rightly, however," rejoined Turpin; "Peter has a
confounded ugly look about the ogles, and stares enough to put a modest
wench out of countenance. Come, come, my old earthworm, crawl along, we
have waited for you long enough. Is this the first time you have seen a
pretty lass, eh?"

"It is the first time I have seen one so beautiful," said Peter; "and I
crave her pardon if my freedom has offended her. I wonder not at your
enchantment, grandson Luke, now I behold the object of it. But there is
one piece of counsel I would give to this fair maid. The next time she
trusts you from her sight, I would advise her to await you at the
hill-top, otherwise the chances are shrewdly against your reaching the
ground with neck unbroken."

There was something, notwithstanding the satirical manner in which Peter
delivered this speech, calculated to make a more favorable impression
upon Sybil than his previous conduct had inspired her with; and, having
ascertained from Luke to what his speech referred, she extended her hand
to him, yet not without a shudder, as it was enclosed in his skinny
grasp. It was like the fingers of Venus in the grasp of a skeleton.

"This is a little hand," said Peter, "and I have some skill myself in
palmistry. Shall I peruse its lines?"

"Not now, in the devil's name!" said Turpin, stamping impatiently. "We
shall have Old