thee that he
does; but for me, I do not know, I cannot tell."

Cuthbert looked at her in amaze.

"Not know, and he thy father!"

A curious smile crossed her face.

"We think little of such ties amongst the gipsy folk. The tie
betwixt us all is stronger than the simple one of blood. We are all
of one race--of one stock; that is enough for us. The lesser is
swallowed up of the greater."

"But thy mother lives; she must know?"

Joanna's dark eyes glowed strangely.

"Ay, she verily must know; but will she tell what she knows? If it
be as I suspect, she must be in the plot."

"What plot?" asked Cuthbert, beginning to feel bewildered with all
this intricacy of mystery.

"Thou hadst better hear my story to the end," answered Joanna with
a slight smile; "then thou wilt better comprehend. Listen to me,
and ask thy questions when I have done."

"Speak on, then," said Cuthbert, glad enough to hold his peace; "I
will give good heed to all thou sayest."

And Joanna continued her tale.

"Sir Richard, wedded to Isabel Wyvern, might no longer be the mark
for the gipsy's curse. Esther was then queen of the tribe, and with
her, love for the Wyverns far outweighed hatred towards the
Trevlyns. She gave it out that no hair of his head should be hurt;
the vengeance must wait. If it were to be carried out, it must be
upon another generation. So said the queen, and none dared openly
lift the voice against her; but there were angry mutterings and
murmurings in the tribe, and none were more wroth at this decree
than Miriam and Long Robin."

"Her sister and that sister's husband."

"Ay. Long Robin was the head of the tribe, and loved not to yield
to the sway of a woman; but amongst us there has always been a
queen, and he was powerless to hinder the rest from owning Esther's
rule. But he and Miriam withdrew in wrathful indignation for a time
from the rest of the tribe, and brooded over schemes of vengeance,
and delighted themselves in every misfortune that befell the house
of Trevlyn. It was whispered by many that these two had a hand in
the death of more than one fair child. If their beasts sickened, or
any mischance happened, men laid it to the door of Miriam and Long
Robin. But for mine own part, I trow that they had little to do
with any of these matters. Trouble is the lot of many born into
this world. The Trevlyns had no more than their fair share of
troubles that I can see. One fine stalwart son grew up to manhood,
an