But Primrose neither spoke nor moved, only clung convulsively, with buried face, to her mother's knee, ever drawing deep and shuddering breaths, but showing no other sign of life or hearing. At length she raised herself wearily, and pushing back the tangled locks from her weary eyes, said in a strange, unnatural voice, which went to her mother's heart; "I thank you, sweet mother. Now I know all, and will go to my chamber, for I am weary. Go to your rest, mother, and think no more of me--only bid them take thought for yon poor dead body!" And pressing her hands upon her ears, as though to shut out that dying shriek, which had rent the still mountain air, and still rang through her bewildered brain unceasingly, the girl drew herself from her weeping mother's arms, and crept, with unsteady footstep, to her room. Lady Bryn Afon sat motionless where her daughter left her, her hands pressed upon her brow, till with sudden recollection she roused herself to make arrangements with the old farmer and his men with respect to the interment of the gipsy's body; and having placed the matter in their hands, to be referred ere nightfall to the vicar of their scattered hamlet, and having charged them to go at once to the cavern and bring away the lifeless remains into a place of safe shelter, she repaired to her own apartment, where she sat in deep thought until the household had retired for the night. Then creeping to her child's door, she crouched down beside it, and listened during more than one long weary hour for the sound she would fain have heard--the sound of sobs and bitter weeping, which would have relieved her darling's bursting heart. But in vain--Shanno's low moan from time to time as she lay prostrate upon her bed, and her inarticulate cry, "The curse is not dead, mother! it is not dead! Oh, Percival, my love, my love!" was too faint to reach her listening ear, and at last, believing her daughter slept, she too sought her couch, and had fallen into uneasy slumbers ere Shanno's light footfall passed down the narrow staircase, and the unhappy girl, worn almost to frenzy by the force of her conflicting emotions, rushed out into the dark night. CHAPTER XXIX. LADY SHANNO'S VOW. "Love bids touch truth, endure truth, and embrace Truth, though, embracing truth, love crush itself. 'Worship not me, but God!' the angels urge." --ROBERT BROWNING.