But this time Lionel Dale did not place himself beside the instrument.
He stood near the door of the apartment, ready to receive the servant,
if he should return with a second message from the gipsy woman.
The servant did return, and this time he begged his master to step
outside the room before he delivered his message. Lionel complied
immediately, and followed the man into the corridor without.
"I was almost afraid to speak in there, sir," said the man, in an awe-
stricken whisper; "folks have such ears. The woman says she must see
you, sir, and this very night. It is a matter of life and death, she
says."
"Then in that case I will see this woman. Go into the drawing-room,
Jackson, and tell Mrs. Mordaunt, with my compliments, that I find
myself compelled to receive one of my parishioners; and that she and
the other ladies must be so good as to excuse my absence for half an
hour."
"Yes, sir."
The rector went to the hall, where, cowering by the fire, he found an
old gipsy woman.
She was so muffled from head to foot in her garments of woollen stuff,
strange and garish in colour, and fantastical in form, that it was
almost impossible to discover what she really was like. Her shoulders
were bent and contracted as if with extreme age. Loose tresses of gray
hair fell low over her forehead. Her skin was dark and tawny; and
contrasted strangely with the gray hair and the dark lustrous eyes.
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