a piece of cheese, and a flagon of wine. Cuthbert,
who had fared but scantily all that day, was ready enough to obey
the gipsy's hospitable invitation, and seated himself at the board.
She helped him liberally to all that was there, but appeared to
want nothing herself; and whilst Cuthbert satisfied his hunger she
commenced the tale, part of which in its bare outline was already
known to him.

"Thou knowest the story of the witch burned on the village common,
nigh to Trevlyn Chase, by the order of the knight then ruling in
that house? Dost know too that that woman was my grandam, the
mother of Miriam and of Esther?"

"I knew that not," answered Cuthbert.

"But so it was," pursued Joanna, her big dark eyes fixed upon the
flickering flame of the lamp she had kindled. "I never saw my
grandam myself; she had met her doom before I saw the light. Yet I
have heard the tale so ofttimes told that methinks I see myself the
threatening crowd hooting the old woman to her fiery death, the
stern knight and his servants watching that the cruel law was
carried out, and the gipsy tribe hanging on the outskirts of the
wood, yet not daring to adventure themselves into the midst of the
infuriated villagers, watching all, and treasuring up the curses
and maledictions poured upon the proud head of Sir Richard as the
old woman went to her death."

"A cruel death, in all truth," said Cuthbert. "Yet why hold Sir
Richard in fault? He was not the maker of that law; he was but the
instrument used for its enforcement, the magistrate bound to see
the will of the sovereign performed. Most like he could not help
himself, were his heart never so pitiful. I trow the Trevlyns have
always done their duty; yet I misdoubt me if by nature they have
been sterner or more cruel than other men."

A faint smile flickered round the lips of the gipsy. She went on
with her story without heeding this plea.

"They had made shift to see her once before her death--my mother,
my father, and Esther with them. Upon those three she had laid a
solemn charge--a charge to be handed down to their children, and
passed throughout all the tribe--a charge of deadly hatred to all
that bore the name of Trevlyn--a charge to deal them one day some
terrible blow in vengeance for her death, a vengeance that should
be felt to the third and fourth generation."

"I have heard somewhat of that," said Cuthbert.

"Ay, the old woman raved out her curses in the hearing of all as
she