dost not dance any more to-day wi' William Evans; and even if he speaks to thee, be a little offish loike to him."

The poor girl sighed. "I hope, sir," said she, glancing at the sexton, "that no person possessed of an unhappy and suspicious temper has been prejudicing you against poor William. I hope Mr. Pembroke "

66

Hush, girl-hush!" cried Ellis. "Doan't thee say a word against that man. But for him, we mought all ha' been beggars. Do as I bid thee, girl, and doan't thee ask no questions; for you know I've got no head to argufy."

Margaret slowly sank into a seat. The sexton leaned over her, and addressed to her some commonplace remarks, to all of which she returned answers in monosyllables. When the music re-commenced a lively air, William advanced, and solicited her hand for the next dance. Poor Margaret bent her eyes upon the ground, and falteringly refused. Thinking he could not have heard her rightly, Evaus again asked the question, and received, a second time, the same answer. For a moment his countenance expressed astonishment; the next there was a look of grief, and then his lip curled, and drawing himself up proudly, he stalked away. He was followed by the sexton of St. Hubert's, who overtook him, and laid his hand upon his shoulder. William turned fiercely, and endeavoured to shake off the grasp.

"Young man,' you are discovered!" "Discovered!" exclaimed William. "What do you mean?"

," said the sexton,

"You understand me!" said the

chastise you as you deserve. We shall meet again, and with a sterner greeting." So they parted.

The clear, unshadowed sun, as it declined towards the western verge of the horizon, shone brilliantly upon the gipsy encampment, a few miles from R- The wandering tribe had displayed their proverbial taste, in their selection of a spot wherein to pitch their tents. A green and glossy pasture was partly surrounded by a luxuriant forest of ancient oaks, which supplied the crew with firewood; while a beautiful and clear stream, the pride and boast of the county, curved into the waving grass-land, and kept it ever fresh and verdant. Here and there its silvery bosom reflected a small tent, or the figure of an idler, bending over the bank, with fishing-rod in hand, a perfect picture of patience and philosophy. Half-a-dozen tents served to accommodate the gregarious fraternity; and though the sail-cloths which composed them were worn and weatherbeaten, yet their brown hues harmonised well with the rich tints of the landscape, and showed distinct enough against the dark back-ground of the forest. As the shades of the evening darkened the ancestral trees, a line of fire was lit up, the flames of which glared ruddily against the huge trunks of the woodland, and played and flickered in the rippling stream. Huge kettles, suspended on forked sticks, were beginning to send up a savoury steam; several swarthy beings, lounging round the fires, occasionally fed them, or basking in the blaze, watched the bubbling of the caldrons with intense anxiety. Even the King of the Gipsies observed the preparations for supper with an eager air, which ill assorted with his lofty forehead and reverend white beard. Every moment some stroller would come in with a pilfered fowl, or a basket of eggs; and each addition to the feast was hailed with shouts of applause by the swarthy crew.

Somewhat remote from this scene of bustle and noise, at the door of a small tent, sat two female gipsies. One of these was the queen, an aged crone, who, though bent with age and care, and wrinkled with time and the

indulgence of vehement passions, yet prided herself upon the unfrosted darkness of her raven tresses, which fell over her shoulders in profusion. A turban of rich crimson cloth crowned her head, and a shawl of the same colour and material was wrapped around her shoulders. Her skinny hands were supported by a silverheaded staff, which was covered with quaint carvings. Her gown was of dark serge, and her shoes were pointed, and turned up in the Oriental fashion, and garnished with broad silver buckles. She sat in the shade, but the rising moon shone down upon her dusky figure, and threw her wild features into bold relief. At her feet sat a beautiful girl, with dark Grecian features, and a full, voluptuous form. She, too, had long, flowing, raven tresses, into which were twisted strings of pearl. From a necklace of topaz, hung a little silver crucifix, resting upon a full and heaving bust, to which was fitted a close jacket, made of deep blue cloth, and fastened together with loops and silver buttons. Her soft and round arms were naked, save at the shoulders, and her wrists were encircled with tarnished gold bracelets. Her white petticoat was short enough to display a well-turned ancle, and a small foot encased in a neat black slipper. Her features, dark and sun-browned, showed to more advantage in the pale moonlight than they would have done in the broad blaze of day. The gipsy-girl sat at the feet of the queen, and looking up in her face, listened attentively to her dis

course.

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Myra," said the queen of the gipsies," do you love him yet?"

"Love him!" repeated the girl. "Yes, mother passionately. To obtain his hand-his heart, I would peril everything !"

"Strange and mysterious passion!" said the crone, "which defies reason and law. Many years agone I loved with the same intense devotion. The same fiery blood courses in your veins ; the same contempt of obstacles. Yet the man I loved was nobler and prouder than the sexton of St. Hubert's. I was among the gitanos of Spain when I beheld him. He was a mountain robber, and lived like the

eagle, among the highest crags. He had a foot as true, and a leap as light as the ibex; and when his bullet went singing on its way, it was death to hear its music. We were wedded in the ruins of a chapel. The pavement was in fragments, and the nave was roofless. A renegade priest joined our hands, and my lover was armed to the teeth as he stood at the altar. The cold moon shone down on me then, as it shines now, and on the followers of Vasquez, whose glittering muskets and sheathless poniards sent back the cold silver rays. Ten years I shared with him the perils of his wandering life; his green couch in the mountains; his meal, wrested from the rich with an iron hand. You may think I suffered hardships. True, I did; but did not my hero suffer greater? The blood-hounds hunted him by day and night, and brought him at last to bay. He fought like a tiger, till he fell, covered with wounds-literally torn to pieces with shot. They hung him on a gibbet in the market-town; and the same night that made me a widow, and my children orphans, saw the captain of the troop that brought my husband to the scaffold, united to a lovely girl. They thought no eye pursued them to the bridal chamber; but, in the stillness of the night, a rifle was discharged by a woman's hand, and the same bullet pierced the bridegroom and the bride! It was my hand that accomplished my revenge !"

cares.

The dark eyes of the gipsy-girl flashed fire as she listened to the tale. "Five sons," continued the old woman, "I bore to the partner of my Where are they? One followed his father to the gibbet; a second hurled defiance at his enemies, as he perished in the flames of an auto da fè; the third and fourth died in the galleys; the fifth-the fifth, Myra -my best - beloved, my brave, my beautiful, received his death-wound in defending me from outrage. You are his child Judge, then, how I love you, my daughter. You love the sexton of St. Hubert's-he shall marry you."

"Ah, mother!" said the gipsy girl, "I fear me he is lost. He is the accepted lover of Margaret Ellis. She

did love a young stranger; but the sexton of St. Hubert's has Farmer Ellis in his debt, and threatened to throw him into jail, if the farmer did not grant him the hand of his daughter. He has done so, and the wedding-day is fixed. Alas! before he saw his May-day queen, he loved me, and promised to marry me. Often, beneath that very moon, mother, has he sat and told me his love. When I smiled at his protestations, he would speak of his wealth, and tell me of hidden stores of gold, for a thrifty and a rich man is the sexton of St. Hubert's. I do not love him less because he does not frown upon our wandering tribe, but he has lax principles that suit the fiery passions of our race. I know not in what consists the art by which he won me; it is enough for me to know that I am devoted to him. Alas! that knowledge is too much since he has owned the fascination of the Queen of the May." Enough said, daughter!' " cried the crone. "Before the altar he shall marry you. He shall love you better than he loves the May-queen. What are her attractions when compared to yours? Praise from the old is little to the young; yet let me say that I have wandered east and west, north and south; have seen the Georgian and Sicilian maids, have seen the dark-haired girls of Naples, and the donnas of Madrid, yet never did these aged eyes rest on a finer form or face than yours, my daughter." The gipsy-girl smiled.

66

now

Ay," said the old woman, you look lovelier than ever. That smile is like a sunbeam to my heart; it thaws the frost of age. Believe me, Myra, the sexton of St. Hubert's shall adore you."

"Then you must have love-charms," said the gipsy-girl, blushing.

"Love-charms I have," said the old woman," and those of wondrous potency. We are a favoured race, Myra. Descended from the old Egyptians, we inherit their mysterious learning. To a few among us, the queens and magi of our tribes, there has come down a knowledge of charms and medicine, and some of the secrets of astrology. Go, Myra; leave me. I will provide for your peace. Yes,

The gipsy-girl smiled, rose, kissed the hand of her grandmother, and then bounded away like a fawn.

"Poor child!" muttered the old woman, when alone; "she must not die of a broken heart. Love-charms did she say? Yes-I have them for fools; but the love-charms I shall use to give her joy, is poison. The betrothed bride of the sexton of St. Hubert's lies ill of an unknown malady. The physicians cannot do her good, for she is sick of a wounded heart. To-night the sexton of St. Hubert's, who has faith in my skill, comes to seek a remedy. He shall have one. Does he think to spurn the poor gipsygirl? He is mistaken. He plighted his troth to her in the silence of the forest; they broke a piece of gold across a running brook; they swore truth and fidelity! One has broken the oath, but it shall be sworn anew. None but Myra shall wed the sexton of St. Hubert's."

CHAPTER II.

It was a fierce and stormy night. The wind howled around the houses of R, and wherever a shutter had lost its fastening, it flapped to and fro with a frequent and alarming sound. The rain, too, descended in torrents and flooded the streets of the village, while ever and anon heavy peals of thunder and vivid flashes of lightning increased the terror of the night, In the house of Farmer Ellis a few persons were assembled to witness the bridal of the sexton of St. Hubert's. The bridegroom was as one excited by wine, for there was a wild radiance in his eyes and an unwonted smile upon his lips, and he occasionally gave utterance to some jest, and when it failed of producing the expected mirth, his own laugh sounded hollow and strange. The bride, too, so pearly pale, in her white dress, with white roses in her hair, seemed like the bride of Corinth in the German tale. few of the guests huddled anxiously together, whispered among themselves, "It is a churchyard bridal.”

A

Still the cake and wine went round, and the strange laugh of the bride

groom was more frequent. The night wore on, and the arrival of the clergyman was prolonged far beyond the expected time. At length he came, and the ceremony was about to take place when the bride suddenly sank in the arms of her companions. They raised her and applied the usual remedies resorted to in case of fainting, but the vital spark itself had fled.

In the depth of a stormy night the sexton of St. Hubert's sought the queen of the gipsies. He was mounted on an active horse, and accompanied by the sheriff of the county and a few resolute men, well mounted and armed to the teeth. As he approached the river which bounded the gipsy camp upon one side, the sexton looked in vain for a guiding light--no fires blazed upon the green, no hidden glare was reflected in the mirror of the stream. Still he spurred on his horse, and followed hard by his companions, gallantly forded the stream and crossed the open meadows. The tents had all struck and no sound was heard in that deserted place, except the rushing of the boisterous wind and the tinkling of the rain-drops as they fell upon the river. The parties reined up their horses, and the sexton and the sheriff held a brief conference together. While they were yet conversing, a broad and brilliant blaze shot up from the centre of the forest, illuminating a wide and well trodden path which led directly to the light. The first flash of radiance dazzled the eyes of the horsemen, but when they became accustomed to the glare, they beheld distinctly several wild forms lounging around the fire, evidently unconscious of the approach of danger.

"Now is our time, my lads," said the sheriff, in a low tone. "Forward! and we shall have them all."

Every rowel was instantly employed, and the party pushed forward at a gallop. Bowing their heads to avoid the swaying branches, they bent over their horse's necks, in the intense ardour of pursuit. The sheriff and the sexton rode side by side; and had nearly attained their object, when their horses fell suddenly and threw them to the ground with violence. In fine, the whole party had stumbled upon pitfalls dug for them, and not a horseman of

the troop escaped an overthrow. While they were rolling on the ground entangled in the stirrups, and receiving several injuries from the struggling horses, a shrill cry arose fom the depth of the woods, and a dozen stout ruffians set upon them, seized and pinioned them. The sexton and the sheriff were conducted by two of the gang to the presence of the gipsy queen who sat upon a rude form raised upon the trunk of a huge oak, and sheltered by an ample awning of oiled cloth. The sheriff's followers were borne away in another direction. The wild woman and her wilder attendants were perfectly distinct in the ruddy firelight, though the whole scene had, to the eyes of the victims, the appearance of a vision of night.

"Well, sirs," said the queen, "you came to see us, and you have found us. Have you not some message for us? You myrmidon of the law, have you no greeting for the queen of the gispies?"

The sheriff looked at the queen, and then at her attendants. They were fierce-looking, unshorn fellows, with butcher's knives stuck in their rope girdles, and seemed but to await a nod from her tawny majesty to employ their formidable weapons.

"Have you nothing for us?" asked the dark lady.

"Nothing ;" said the sheriff, faintly. "Ho, ho!" laughed the wrinkled "The man of law is forgetful. You, Dommerar, search him and see if he speaks the truth."

crone.

A sandy-haired little fellow advanced at the summons and rifled the pockets of the sheriff with a dexterity which proved him an adept in the business. A teacher of music would have envied his fingering. Having caused the pockets of the sheriff to disgorge, he thus in canting language, enumerated their contents.

"The moabite's ribbin runs thin, (the sheriff's cash runs low.) He has no mint, (gold,) and only a mopus or two."

"Fool!" said the queen, "has he no paper?"

"Ay, ay, missus, here's his fiddle," (writ,) was the answer.

"Give it me," cried the queen. "Here, you patrico! our eyes are

bad.

Read this scrawl, and acquaint

us with the contents."

The patrico, or hedge-priest, a fellow in a rusty black suit, with a beard of three weeks' growth, bleared eyes, and a red Bardolph nose, took the writ, which he had more difficulty in reading than Tony Lumpkin when he received the letter of Hastings. At first he held it upside down, then reversed it, looking at it at arm's length, and then gave it a close scrutiny. He finally gave it as his opinithat it empowered the queer-cuffin (so he termed the sheriff) to seize upon the so-called queen of the gipsies, accused of the crime of murder, and also to apprehend her followers. When he had concluded, the old crone snatched the writ from his hand, and tearing it to pieces, flung the fragments into the face of the sheriff.

on,

"Take him away," said she, "and leave us alone with the sexton of St. Hubert's. Guard him well, for we wish to show him how we administer justice among us. We will be judge and jury, and our upright man shall be the executioner."

She waved her tawny hand with the air of a princess dismissing her courtiers, and her mandate was obeyed. She was left alone with the sexton of St. Hubert's. Looking him steadily in the face, she said:

"John Pembroke, I give you joy of your marriage."

"Wretched woman !" said the sexton, "you poisoned her. By your hand she died."

'She

“You are mistaken," answered the old woman, with a bitter smile. "" is not dead but sleepeth.' You see the devil can quote scripture. It was my first intention to have poisoned her, but my second thoughts were better. So, instead of the medicine you sought, I gave you a powerful narcotic which has thrown her into a deep sleep. She lies at this moment you know, in the chapel of St. Hubert's. There are flowers on her coffin, and there is a shroud around her. If I am not very much mistaken, about this hour she awakes."

"And perishes! Fiend in human shape, how you have deceived me! At this hour, remote from help, my Margaret is dying."

"She is not your Margaret, neither is she dying," said the crone. "Listen to me ! I sent a trusty messenger to him that Margaret loves-to him who loves her fondly and faithfully-and if all things have gone as well as I anticipate, by this time she is in his arms. The draught she drank is harmless."

"Cursed deceiver !" cried the sexton, struggling frantically to free himself from the ligatures which bound him. "You have done an accursed deed-you have deprived me of my betrothed bride!"

"Your betrothed bride !" said the queen of the gipsies. "Behold her!"' She waved her hand, and Myra stood before the sexton of St. Hubert's. "There she stands," said the gipsy. "Have you forgotten that your troth is plighted to her? The bride and the priest are ready. Man of guilt and passion! wed her you may—wed her you must!''

"Never!" cried the sexton. "When I sought your lawless crew to indulge my love of revelling and pleasure, the person of Myra lighted a fire in my breast. But it was an unholy flame. I will never marry her-let her live, live to be branded with infamy and disgrace !"

"Ha!" cried the crone, rising from her seat. "Is it so? Speak. Myra! child of my heart, is it so?"

The gipsy girl clasped her hands together, and hung her head in shame. Her cheeks were suffused with crimson, then they became deadly pale, and she sank lifeless on the ground.

"You have killed her!" shrieked the gipsy queen, "and dearly shall you rue it."

The

She placed a whistle to her lips and blew a shrill blast. But she received a far different answer than she had anticipated; for one of the sheriff's men had succeeded in escaping from the hands of the gipsy crew, and galloped to the neighbouring town where a troop of horse was quartered. commanding officer instantly repaired to the gipsy camp, where he arrived in time to apprehend the crew before they had committed any act of violence. The sexton of St. Hubert's did not long survive this night, and Myra became a maniac. The fate of

the lovers we shall next describe.