they would set spurs and flee away like the wind--a calm, silent, but irrevocable prophecy: "I can bear all this, for my time is coming! Not a man of all these will live, not a roof-tree that shelters them but will be in ashes, when I take my revenge!" Not a gazer but knows, through those marvellous eyes alone, that the day is coming when he _will_ have his revenge, and that the subject of pity is the victorious Roundhead instead of the wounded and captive cavalier! Not all this, of course, was expressed in the eyes of Bell Crawford as she stood before her two companions under the circumstances just detailed; but it scarcely needed a second glance to tell the keen man of the world that the eyes and the brain beneath them had both been taught something before unknown. He thought what might possibly have been the expression of his own eyes, on a night so many times before alluded to, could he but have seen them as did others; and if he had before held one lingering doubt of the personality of the woman whose presence she had just quitted, that doubt would have remained no longer. It _was_ the "red woman," beyond a question. For just one moment another thought crossed his mind, founded upon that "union of hands" so lately consummated. Should he permit _her_ to be subjected to the same influences? And yet, why not? The good within her could not be injured, either by sorcery or super-knowledge--either by the assumption or the possession on the part of the seeress, of information beyond that of ordinary mortality and altogether out of its pale. He _would_ permit her to undergo the same influences, even as in a few moments he would submit to them himself. Josephine Harris, in the time consumed by all these reflections running through the mind of Leslie, had not yet recovered from her surprise at the altered expression on the face of her friend--an expression, oddly enough, that pleased her better than any she had ever before observed there, and yet frightened her correspondingly. "Dear Bell," she said, anxiously, and using a word of endearment that had been very rare between them, spite of their extreme intimacy.--"What has happened? What have you seen? Are you sick? Your eyes frighten me--they seem so sad and earnest!" "Do they?" said Bell, forcing a smile that was really sad enough, but better became her face than many expressions that had before passed over it. "Well, Josey, to tell you the truth, I have seen some strange things, of which I will tell you at another time; and I have been thinking very deeply. Nothing more." "You have seen nothing frightful--dreadful--terrible?" the young girl asked, with an unmistakable expression of anxiety upon her face. "Nothing terrible, though something very strange," was the reply of Bell. "Nothing that you need fear."