ed house; and it
hath been said likewise, that if he wed not one of his own kindred--that
if Rook mate not with Rook, his possessions shall pass away from his
hands. Listen to this prophetic quatrain:

When the stray Rook shall perch on the topmost bough,
There shall be clamor and screeching, I trow;
But of right to, and rule of the ancient nest,
The Rook that with Rook mates shall hold him possest.

You hear what these quaint rhymes say. Luke is, doubtless, the stray
rook, and a fledgeling hath flown hither from a distant country. He must
take her to his mate, or relinquish her and 'the ancient nest' to his
brother. For my own part, I disregard such sayings. I have little faith
in prophecy and divination. I know not what Eleanor Mowbray, for so she
is called, can have to do with the tenure of the estates of Rookwood.
But if Luke Rookwood, after he has lorded it for awhile in splendor, be
cast forth again in rags and wretchedness, let him not blame his
grandsire for his own want of caution."

"Luke, I implore you, tell me," said Sybil, who had listened,
horror-stricken, to the sexton, shuddering, as it were, beneath the
chilly influence of his malevolent glance, "is this true? Does your fate
depend upon Eleanor Mowbray? Who is she? What has she to do with
Rookwood? Have you seen her? Do you love her?"

"I have never seen her," replied Luke.

"Thank Heaven for that!" cried Sybil. "Then you love her not?"

"How were that possible?" returned Luke. "Do I not say I have not seen
her?"

"Who is she, then?"

"This old man tells me she is my cousin. She is betrothed to my brother
Ranulph."

"How?" ejaculated Sybil. "And would you snatch his betrothed from your
brother's arms? Would you do him this grievous wrong? Is it not enough
that you must wrest from him that which he has long deemed his own? And
if he has falsely deemed it so, it will not make his loss the less
bitter. If you do thus wrong your brother, do not look for happiness; do
not look for respect; for neither will be your portion. Even this
stony-hearted old man shrinks aghast at such a deed. His snake-like eyes
are buried on the ground. See, I have moved even _him_."

And in truth Peter did appear, for an instant, strangely moved.

"'Tis nothing," returned he, mastering his emotion by a strong effort.
"What is all this to me? I never had a brother. I never had aught--wife,
child, or relative, that loved me. And I love not the world, no