"Would they could kill you," cried Luke, with savage bitterness. "You have placed a bar between me and my prospects, which nothing can now remove--nothing but--ha!" and his countenance assumed a deadly hue and fearful expression. "By Heaven, you almost rouse the fell spirit which it is said dwells within the breast of my devoted race. I feel as if I could stab thee." "No, no!" shrieked Sybil; "for mercy's sake, for your own sake, do not stab me. It is not too late. I will repair my wrong!" "Ever deceiving! you would again delude me. You cannot repair it. One way alone remains, and that----" "I will pursue," responded Sybil, sadly, but firmly. "Never!" cried Luke; "you shall not. Ha!" exclaimed he, as he found his arms suddenly pinioned behind him. "What new treachery is this? By whose orders am I thus fettered?" "By mine," said Alan Rookwood, stepping forward. "By yours?" echoed Luke. "And wherefore? Release me." "Be patient," replied Alan. "You will hear all anon. In the meantime you must be content to remain my prisoner. Quit not your hold," added he, addressing the gipsies, who kept charge of Luke. "Their lives shall answer for their obedience," said Barbara. Upon a further signal from Alan, Eleanor was torn from her mother's arms, and a bandage passed so suddenly over Mrs. Mowbray's face, that, before she could raise a cry of alarm, all possibility of utterance was effectually prevented. The priest alone was left at liberty. Barbara snatched the hand of Eleanor. She dragged her to Sybil. "You are Lady Rookwood," whispered she; "but she has your domains. I give her to you." "She is the _only bar_ between thy husband and his rights," whispered Alan Rookwood, in a tone of horrible irony; "_it is not too late to repair your wrong_." "Away, tempter!" cried Sybil, horror-stricken. "I know you well. Yet," continued she, in an altered tone, "I will risk all for him. I have done him wrong. One mode of atonement remains; and, horrible though it be, I will embrace it. Let me not pause. Give her to me." And she seized upon the unresisting hand of Eleanor. "Do you need my aid?" asked Barbara. "No," replied Sybil; "let none approach us. A clapping of hands will let you know when all is over." And she dragged her passive victim deeper into the vault. "Sybil, Sybil!" cried Luke, struggling with frantic violence to liberate himself; "hurt her not. I was rash. I was mad. I am calmer now. She hears me not--she will not turn. God of heaven! she will murder her. It will be done while I speak. I am the cause of all. Release me, villains! Would that I had died ere I had seen this day." At a signal from the sexton, Luke also was blindfolded. He ceased to struggle. But his laboring breast told of the strife within. "Miscreants!" exclaimed the priest, who had hitherto witnessed the proceedings in horror. "Why do not these rocks fall in, and crush you and your iniquities? Save her! oh, save her! Have you no pity for the innocent?"