s full
height. She had been looking thoughtfully down into the sparkling
water, which was now filling the well as of old, whilst Cuthbert
told his tale with graphic power. An expression of calm triumph was
on her face as she heard how the long-lost hoard was lying safely
stored within the house of the Wyverns--a house sacred to the
gipsies and safe from any raids of robbers, such was the esteem in
which that name was held. She looked like one whose task is done,
who feels a heavy load lifted from the mind; but the glance fixed
upon Cuthbert's eager face was also one of gravity and meaning.

"The forest is no place for thee now," she said; "get thee hence as
fast as thou canst."

"And wherefore so?" asked Cuthbert, surprised. "Methought the peril
ceased with the death of--"

"Hush!" said the gipsy, almost sternly; "bethink thee that there
may be listeners even now about us in these thick bushes, and guard
thy words with caution. Remember the strange links that bind
together those of the wild gipsy blood; and remember that Long
Robin lies in his bloody grave not far from here."

She lowered her voice as she spoke, and Cuthbert instinctively
followed her example.

"But no man knows that."

"How canst thou tell?"

"None saw the deed. It was done in the dead of night. Ere morning
came he was laid below the earth. Thou thyself knew not what had
befallen him till I spoke the word."

He looked at her as if in momentary distrust; but the calm gaze and
the noble countenance of the gipsy seemed to reassure him. Joanna,
who had read his thought, smiled slightly.

"Nay, boy, thou needst not fear treachery from Joanna, and the
gipsy queen will give thee all protection in her power. Have I not
told thee that upon me, when I received that title, was laid the
charge of seeing the stolen treasure restored to the house of
Trevlyn? To thy courage and resolve and perseverance and skill
belongs it that this charge is now fulfilled. Thou needst not fear
that any ill will or lack of caution on Joanna's part will cause
evil to light upon thy head. But there are others with whom thou
mayest have to reckon. There is Miriam, to whom Long Robin was as
the apple of the eye."

"Yet he was not her husband (he is no aged man), and he can scarce
have been her son."

"No matter. As I have told thee ere this, there be strange bonds
betwixt us of the gipsy blood, binding closer and firmer than ever
ties of kinship do. Miriam loved yon man