you think that he derives himself from a
proud and ancient line--ancient and proud--ha, ha! I tell you, girl,
that for his one ancestor I can number twenty; for the years in which
his lineage hath flourished, my race can boast centuries, and was a
people--a kingdom!--ere the land in which he dwells was known. What! if,
by the curse of Heaven, we were driven forth, the curse of hell rests
upon his house."

"I know it," said Sybil; "a dreadful curse, which, if I wed him, will
alight on me."

"No; not on you; you shall avoid that curse. I know a means to satisfy
the avenger. Leave that to me."

"I dare not, as it never can be; yet, tell me--you saw the body of
Luke's ill-fated mother. Was she poisoned? Nay, you may speak. Sir
Piers's death releases you from your oath. How died she?"

"By strangulation," said the old gipsy, raising her palsied hand to her
throat.

"Oh!" cried Sybil, gasping with horror. "Was there a ring upon her
finger when you embalmed the body?"

"A ring--a wedding-ring! The finger was crookened. Listen, girl, I could
have told Luke the secret of his birth long ago, but the oath imposed by
Sir Piers sealed fast my lips. His mother was wedded to Sir Piers; his
mother was murdered by Sir Piers. Luke was entrusted to my care by his
father. I have brought him up with you. I have affianced you together;
and I shall live to see you united. He is now Sir Luke. He is your
husband."

"Do not deceive yourself, mother," said Sybil, with a fearful
earnestness. "He is not yet Sir Luke Rookwood; would he had no claim to
be so! The fortune that has hitherto been so propitious may yet desert
him. Bethink you of a prophecy you uttered."

"A prophecy? Ha!"

And with slow enunciation Sybil pronounced the mystic words which she
had heard repeated by the sexton.

As she spoke, a gloom, like that of a thunder-cloud, began to gather
over the brow of the old gipsy. The orbs of her sunken eyes expanded,
and wrath supplied her frame with vigor. She arose.

"Who told you that?" cried Barbara.

"Luke's grandsire, Peter Bradley."

"How learnt he it?" said Barbara. "It was to one who hath long been in
his grave I told it; so long ago, it had passed from my memory. 'Tis
strange! old Sir Reginald had a brother, I know. But there is no other
of the house."

"There is a cousin, Eleanor Mowbray."

"Ha! I see; a daughter of that Eleanor Rookwood who fled from her
father's roof. Fool, fool. Am I caught in my own toils?