lady; pardon my impatience--my heart
is breaking, yet it has not ceased to beat for him. You say you will die
sooner than consent to this forced union. Your faith shall not be so
cruelly attested. If there must be a victim, I will be the sacrifice.
God grant I may be the only one. Be happy! as happy as I am wretched.
You shall see what the love of a gipsy can do."

As she spoke, Sybil burst into a flood of passionate tears. Eleanor
regarded her with the deepest commiseration; but the feeling was
transient; for Barbara, now advancing, exclaimed: "Hence to your mother.
The bridegroom is waiting: to your mother, girl!" And she motioned
Eleanor fiercely away. "What means this?" continued the old gipsy. "What
have you said to that girl? Did I not caution you against speech with
her? and you have dared to disobey me. You, my grandchild--the daughter
of my Agatha, with whom my slightest wish was law. I abandon you! I
curse you!"

"Oh, curse me not!" cried Sybil. "Add not to my despair."

"Then follow my advice implicitly. Cast off this weakness; all is in
readiness. Luke shall descend into the vaulted chapel, the ceremony
shall there take place--there also shall Eleanor _die_--and there again
shall you be wedded. Take this phial, place it within the folds of your
girdle. When all is over, I will tell you how to use it. Are you
prepared? Shall we set out?"

"I am prepared," replied Sybil, in accents hollow as despair; "but let
me speak with Luke before we go."

"Be brief, then--each moment is precious. Keep a guard upon your tongue.
I will to Mrs. Mowbray. You have placed the phial in safety. A drop will
free you from your troubles."

"'Tis in that hope I guard it," replied Sybil, as she departed in the
direction of Luke. Barbara watched her join him, and then turned shortly
towards Mrs. Mowbray and her daughter.

"You are ill, dear Luke," said Sybil, who had silently approached her
faithless lover; "very ill."

"Ill!" echoed Luke, breaking into frantic laughter. "Ill! Ha, ha!--upon
my wedding-day. No, I am well--well. Your eyes are jaundiced by
jealousy."

"Luke, dear Luke, laugh not thus. It terrifies me. I shall think you
insane. There, you are calmer--you are more like yourself--more human.
You looked just now--oh God! that I should say it of you--as if you were
possessed by demons."

"And if I were possessed, what then?"

"Horrible! hint not at it. You almost make me credit the dreadful tales
I have heard,