in silence.

"Fool! Did I not warn thee to do _my_ bidding only? And thou art
hankering again, pampering thy cruel lust for gold. How darest thou
question the maiden for this intent? Hence, and thank thy stars thou
art not even now sent howling to thy doom!"

This terrible and mysterious woman came forward in great anger, and
the Rosicrucian brotherhood were thereby in great alarm. "The maid is
mine--begone!" said she, pointing the way.

Like slaves under their master's frown, they crouched before this
fearful personification of their unhallowed and forbidden practices,
and departed.

"Gervase Buckley," she cried, "thou art betrothed to the heiress of
yon wide possessions."

"I am," said he, roused either to courage or desperation, even in the
presence of a being whose power he felt conscious was not derived from
one common source with his own.

"Dost thou confirm thy troth?"

"I do; in life and in death she is mine."

"Pledge thyself, body and soul, to her."

"I am hers whilst I live, body and soul. Nothing but death shall part
us."

"On thy soul's hope thou wilt fulfil this pledge!"

"I will." Gervase looked wistfully towards his beloved. The inanimate
form was yet pale and still; but a vague hope possessed him that the
witch would again quicken her.

"'Tis enough. But it must be sealed with blood!"

He felt her clammy hand on his arm, and a sharp pain as though from a
puncture. He quickly withdrew it, and a blood-drop fell on the floor.

"Thou art mine--for ever!"

A loud yell rang through the vaults, and Gervase felt as though the
doom of the lost spirits were his--that a whole troop of fiery demons
had assailed him, and that he was borne away to the pit of torment.
Happily his recollection forsook him, and he became unconscious of
future suffering.

PART THE SECOND.

Morning rose bright and ruddy above the hills. The elder Buckley was
up and stirring betimes. Agreeably to his usual practice, he had
retired early to bed, leaving the household cares and duties to his
helpmate. He was sitting in the porch when his dame, with a disturbed
and portentous aspect, accosted him:--

"I know not what hath come to the lad."

"Gervase--what of him?" said Nicholas, carelessly.

"He came home very late yesternight. But he did not speak, and he
looked so wan and woe-begone that I verily thought he had seen a ghost
or some uncanny thing yonder on his road home. I've just now been to
rouse him, bu