"I got to the village last night just as the storm came up," concluded Will: "so I thought it better to put up at the ale-house, rather than run the risk of spoiling my mistress' bundles of mercery. And, my lady, if I might presume to offer my advice, you will not stir outside the gardens and park while your cousin is away. I heard a deal of talk about the gipsies, down at the village last night. They say they are a desperate gang, and the very same that was chased out of Somersetshire this spring. Not as I believe all the nonsense folks tell about the gipsies either. I dare say there may be good and bad among them, but these here is a bad-looking set, surely, and it wouldn't be altogether pleasant for a young lady to meet with them. I hope you will excuse the freedom, my lady—" "You are quite right, Will, and I thank you for your care of me. You see I have one guard already," added Lucy, patting the head of the old dog. "Now go and tell cook to give you a good breakfast." "I never did see any one so changed as my young lady," said Will, as he returned to the kitchen. "When she first came here, she was as scared as a young fawn, and the moment any one spoke to her, her great black eyes were looking every way like a startled hares: but now she seems to have plucked up a spirit, and speaks so quiet and dignified like. That old woman must have used the child awful to have cowed and broken her spirit so. It makes my old blood boil to think of it." Lucy ate her breakfast with old Goodman sitting at her elbow contentedly munching the crusts she gave him. Then she walked a while upon the terrace; visited and inspected a litter of kittens which Will had found in the stable; and finally sat down to her lessons in the bow-window, with the dog still in close attendance. She had finished her practising and learned her spelling-lesson, and was sitting industriously working at the open-hem she used to dislike so much, when the window was suddenly darkened by a shadow, and, at the same moment, Goodman bristled up and gave a deep growl. Lucy looked up. There before the open window stood the gipsy-woman, with her black glittering eyes fixed upon Lucy's face. "So, my young lady, this is the way you keep your promise to the gipsy-woman! You bring me to the place appointed and keep me waiting, the whole afternoon while you take your pleasure at home. But beware what you do! I am not to be played with, as you may find to your cost some day." For the moment, Lucy's fears overmastered her new-found faith and courage. She sat pale and trembling, unable to stir or even to call for help. The wicked woman saw her advantage. "Did you hear the storm last night and the night before? Ay, but did you know what was riding upon the lightning and the wind, waiting only for my word to lay this proud roof-tree and all beneath it low in the dust? You little know what my art can do yet for good or evil!"