recollection that
he had avowed himself a Rookwood, and the elder brother of Ranulph,
flashed across her memory. "Gipsies! did you not say these people were
gipsies? Your own attire is the same as theirs. You are not, cannot be,
the brother of Ranulph."

"I do not boast the same mother," returned Luke, proudly, "but my father
was Sir Piers Rookwood, and I am his elder born."

He turned away. Dark thoughts swept across his brain. Maddened by the
beauty of Eleanor, stung by her slights, and insensible to the silent
agony of Sybil, who sought in vain to catch his eye, he thought of
nothing but of revenge, and the accomplishment of his purposes. All
within was a wild and fearful turmoil. His better principles were
stifled by the promptings of evil. "Methinks," cried he, half aloud, "if
the Tempter were near to offer the maiden to me, even at the peril of my
soul's welfare, I could not resist it."

The Tempter _was_ at hand. He is seldom absent on occasions like the
present. The sexton stood beside his grandson. Luke started. He eyed
Peter from head to foot, almost expecting to find the cloven foot,
supposed to be proper to the fiend. Peter grinned in ghastly derision.

"Soh! you would summon hell to your aid; and lo! the devil is at your
elbow. Well, she is yours."

"Make good your words," cried Luke, impatiently.

"Softly--softly," returned Peter. "Moderate yourself, and your wishes
shall be accomplished. Your own desires chime with those of others; nay,
with those of Barbara. _She_ would wed you to Miss Mowbray. You stare.
But it is so. This is a cover for some deeper plot; no matter. It shall
go hard, despite her cunning, if I foil her not at her own weapons.
There is more mischief in that old woman's brain than was ever hatched
within the crocodile's egg; yet she shall find her match. Do not thwart
her; leave all to me. She is about it now," added he, noticing Barbara
and Mrs. Mowbray in conference together. "Be patient--I will watch her."
And he quitted his grandson for the purpose of scanning more closely the
man[oe]uvres of the old gipsy.

Barbara, meanwhile, had not remained inactive.

"You need fear no relapse in your daughter; I will answer for that,"
said the old gipsy to Mrs. Mowbray; "Sybil will tend her. Quit not the
maiden's side," continued she, addressing her grandchild, adding, in a
whisper, "Be cautious--alarm her not--mine eye will be upon you--drop
not a word."

So saying, she shuffled to a