w back with a light
shiver and said:

"Cuthbert, can it be right for us thus to stand thinking of our own
happiness, whilst he lies there so still and cold?"

"I was just about to bid thee give me leave to bury him, whilst
thou dost rest thyself awhile. We will not grudge him that last
service; and it will be safer and better to do it here than to give
notice of his death to the gipsies and outlaws, and so bring them
down upon us in this place, provoking perchance their vengeance
upon ourselves. I have here a spade, brought to dig after the
treasure. I little thought it would first be used to dig Long
Robin's grave. But the task had better be done, and that quickly.
The man is dead as a stone. We will bury him away out of our sight
ere we do aught beside."

Petronella assented with a slight shudder. She could not regret the
death of the giant gipsy, who himself made so light of human life,
and would have slain her brother before her eyes without a qualm.
But she shivered each time she looked at the motionless form, and
was glad when, after some hours of hard work beneath the trees,
Cuthbert succeeded in dragging the corpse away and in covering it
up from sight. Kneeling beside the rude grave, the girl breathed a
prayer for the soul of the departed man, and repeated many an ave
and paternoster, in the hope of smoothing for him his passage into
eternity (being still considerably imbued with the teachings of her
early life, which the newer and clearer faith had by no means
eradicated), and then she rose comforted and relieved, feeling as
though a dark weight had passed from her spirit.

Daylight had now come, and the girl was very weary. She looked so
wan and white that Cuthbert was alarmed, and fed her tenderly with
the best his wallet could supply; after which he took her up to his
nest in the sycamore, first bringing the rug that was lying in the
hollow tree to wrap around her. There he succeeded in making her so
comfortable and secure that she fell asleep almost at once, and he
was hopeful she would sleep the whole time of his absence, for she
was worn out with fatigue, and only just recovering from an
illness. How she had borne the fatigues of that night he scarce
knew; but she possessed her share of the Trevlyn tenacity of
purpose, and her strong will had conquered the feebleness of her
frame.

It was a satisfaction to see her sink into a tranquil sleep, and
secure in the certainty that she could not be seen