"Hyde Stockhausen is back here," quietly observed Abel. "Back here! Then it is no false instinct that has led _me_ here," she added in a low tone, apparently communing with herself. "Is Ketira with him?" "No, no," said Abel, vexed at the question. "Kettie has never come back to the place since she left it." "When did _he_ come?" "It must be about two months ago." "He is in the same dwelling-house as before! For what is he making it so grand?" "It is said to be against his marriage." "His marriage with Ketira?" "With a Miss Peyton; some young lady he has met. Why do you bring up Ketira's name in conjunction with this matter--or with him?" She turned to the open casement, and stood there, as if to inhale the sweet scent of Abel's flowers, and listen to the hum of his bees. Her face was working, her strange eyes were gleaming, her hands were clasped to pain. "I know what I know, Abel Carew. Let him look to it if he brings home any other wife than my Ketira." "Nay," remonstrated peaceful old Abel. "Because a young man has whispered pretty words in a maiden's ear, and given her, it may be, a moonlight kiss, that does not bind him to marry her." "And would I have wished to bind him had it ended there?" flashed the gipsy. "No; I should have been thankful that it _had_ so ended. I hated him from the first." "You have no proof that it did not so end, Ketira." "No proof; none," she assented. "No tangible proof that I could give to you, her father's brother, or to others. But the proof lies in the fatal signs that show themselves to me continually, and in the unerring instinct of my own heart. If the man puts another into the place that ought to be hers, let him look to it." "You may be mistaken, Ketira. I know not what the signs you speak of can be: they may show themselves to you but to mislead; and nothing is more deceptive than the fancies of one's imagination. Be it as it may, vengeance does not belong to us. Do not _you_ put yourself forward to work young Stockhausen ill." "I work him ill!" retorted the gipsy. "You are mistaking me altogether. It is not I who shall work it. I only see it--and foretell it." "Nay, why speak so strangely, Ketira? It cannot be that you----" "Abel Carew, talk not to me of matters that you do not understand," she interrupted. "I know what I know. Things that I am able to see are hidden from you." He shook his head. "It is wrong to speak so of Hyde Stockhausen--or of any one. He may be as innocent in the matter as you or I." "But I tell you that he is not. And the conviction of it lies here"--striking herself fiercely on the breast. Abel sighed, and began to put his dinner-plates together. He could not make any impression upon her, or on the notion she had taken up.