Rushing swiftly down the hill, Luke tarried at the river's brink, to sprinkle some of the cool element upon the pale brow of Eleanor. As he held her in his arms, thoughts which he fain would have stifled in their birth took possession of his heart. 'Would she were mine!' murmured he. 'Yet no! the wish is unworthy.' But that wish returned unbidden.
Eleanor opened her eyes. She was still too weak to walk without support, and Luke, raising her once more in his arms, and motioning Mrs. Mowbray to follow, crossed the brook by means of stepping-stones, and conducted his charge along a by-path towards the priory, so as to avoid meeting with the crew assembled upon the green.
They had gained one of the roofless halls, when he encountered Balthazar. Astonished at the sight of the party, the patrico was about to address the priest as an acquaintance, when his more orthodox brother raised his finger to his lips, in token of caution. The action passed unobserved.
'Hie thee to Sybil,' said Luke to the patrico. 'Bid her haste hither. Say that this maiden—that Miss Mowbray is here, and requires her aid. Fly! I will bear her to the refectory.'
As Balthazar passed the priest, he pointed with a significant glance towards a chasm in the wall, which seemed to be an opening to some subterraneous chamber. The father again made a gesture of silence, and Balthazar hastened upon his mission.
Luke led them to the refectory. He brought a chair for Eleanor's support; but so far from reviving, after such attention as could be afforded her, she appeared to become weaker. He was about to issue forth in search of Sybil, when to his surprise he found the door fastened.
'You cannot pass this way,' said a voice, which Luke instantly recognised as that of the knight of Malta.
'Not pass!' echoed Luke. 'What does this mean?'
'Our orders are from the queen,' returned the knight.
At this instant the low tolling of a muffled bell was heard.
'Ha!' exclaimed Luke; 'some danger is at hand.'
His heart smote him as he thought of Sybil, and he looked anxiously towards Eleanor.
Balthazar rushed into the room.
'Where is Sybil?' cried Luke. 'Will she not come?'
'She will be here anon,' answered the patrico.
'I will seek her myself, then,' said Luke. 'The door by which you entered is free.'
'It is
'Who will prevent my going forth?' demanded Luke, sternly.
'I will,' said Barbara Lovel, as she suddenly appeared in the doorway. 'You stir not, excepting at my pleasure. Where is the maiden?' continued she, looking around with a grim smile of satisfaction at the consternation produced by her appearance. 'Ha! I see; she faints. Here is a cordial that shall revive her. Mrs. Mowbray, you are welcome to the gipsies' dwelling—you and your daughter. And you, Sir Luke Rockwood, I congratulate you upon your accession of dignity.' Turning to the priest, who was evidently overwhelmed with confusion, she exclaimed, 'And you, too, sir, think you I recognise you not? We have met ere this, at Rookwood. Know you not Barbara Lovel? Ha, ha! It is long since my poor dwelling has been so highly honoured. But I must not delay the remedy. Let her drink of this,' said she, handing a phial to Mrs. Mowbray. 'It will instantly restore her.'
'It is poison!' cried Luke. 'She shall not drink it.'
'Poison!' reiterated Barbara. 'Behold!' and she drank of the liquid. 'I would not poison your bride,' added she, turning to Luke.
'My bride!' echoed Luke.
'Ay, your bride,' repeated Barbara.
Luke recoiled in amazement. Mrs. Mowbray almost felt inclined to believe she was a dreamer, so visionary did the whole scene appear. A dense crowd of witnesses stood at the entrance. Foremost amongst them was the sexton. Suddenly a shriek was heard, and the crowd opening to allow her passage, Sybil rushed forward.
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'I am Sir Luke Rookwood.'
CHAPTER VII
MRS. MOWBRAY
SYBIL'S sudden entrance filled the group that surrounded Miss Mowbray with new dismay. But she saw them not. Her soul seemed riveted by Eleanor, towards whom she rushed; and while her eye wandered over her beauty, she raised the braided hair from her brow, revealing the clear, polished forehead. Wonder, awe, devotion, pity, usurped the place of hatred. The fierce expression that had lit up her dark orbs was succeeded by tender commiseration. She looked an imploring appeal at Barbara.
'Ay, ay,' returned the old gipsy, extending at the same time the phial; 'I understand. Here is that will bring the blood once more into her pallid cheeks, and kindle the fire within her eyes. Give her of this.'
The effect of the potion was almost instantaneous, amply attesting Barbara's skill in its concoction. Stifled respiration first proclaimed Eleanor's recovery. She opened her large and languid eyes; her bosom heaved almost to bursting; her pulses throbbed quickly and feverishly, and as the stimulant operated, the wild lustre of excitement blazed in her eyes.
Sybil took her hand to chafe it. The eyes of the two maidens met. They gazed upon each other steadfastly and in silence. Eleanor knew not whom she regarded, but she could not mistake that look of sympathy; she could not mistake the tremulous pressure of her hand; she felt the silent trickling tears. She returned the sympathising glance, and gazed with equal wonder upon the ministering fairy, for such she almost seemed, that knelt before her. As her looks wandered from the kindly glance of Sybil to the withered and inauspicious aspect of the gipsy queen, and shifted thence to the dusky figures of her attendants, filled with renewed apprehension, she exclaimed, 'Who
