rmured Sybil. "She knows not that she stands upon the brink of the
grave. Oh! would that she could pray. Shall I, her murderess, pray for
her? My prayers would not be heard. And yet, to kill her unshriven will
be a twofold crime. Let me not look on her. My hand trembles. I can
scarce grasp the dagger. Let me think on all he has said. I have wronged
him. I am his bane, his curse! I have robbed him of all: there is but
one remedy--'tis _this_!--Oh, God! she recovers. I cannot do it now."

It was a fearful moment for Eleanor's revival, when the bright steel
flashed before her eyes. Terror at once restored her. She cast herself
at Sybil's feet.

"Spare, spare me!" cried she. "Oh! what a dream I have had. And to waken
thus, with the dagger's point at my breast. You will not kill me--you,
gentle maid, who promised to preserve me. Ah, no, I am sure you will
not."

"Appeal no more to me," said Sybil, fiercely. "Make your peace with
Heaven. Your minutes are numbered."

"I cannot pray," said Eleanor, "while you are near me."

"Will you pray if I retire and leave you?"

"No, no. I dare not--cannot," shrieked Eleanor, in extremity of terror.
"Oh! do not leave me, or let me go."

"If you stir," said Sybil, "I stab you to the heart."

"I will not stir. I will kneel here forever. Stab me as I kneel--as I
pray to you. You cannot kill me while I cling to you thus--while I kiss
your hands--while I bedew them with my tears. Those tears will not sully
them like my blood."

"Maiden," said Sybil, endeavoring to withdraw her hand, "let go your
hold--your sand is run."

"Mercy!"

"It is in vain. Close your eyes."

"No, I will fix them on you thus--you cannot strike then. I will cling
to you--embrace you. Your nature is not cruel--your soul is full of
pity. It melts--those tears--you will be merciful. You cannot
deliberately kill me."

"I cannot--I cannot!" said Sybil, with a passionate outburst of grief.
"Take your life on one condition."

"Name it."

"That you wed Sir Luke Rookwood."

"Ah!" exclaimed Eleanor, "all rushes back upon me at that name; the
whole of that fearful scene passes in review before me."

"Do you reject my proposal?"

"I dare not."

"I must have your oath. Swear by every hope of eternity that you will
wed none other than him."

"By every hope, I swear it."

"Handassah, you will bear this maiden's oath in mind, and witness its
fulfilment."

"I will," replied the gipsy girl, stepping forward fr