While the momentary struggle
lasted, the gipsy woman closely scanned his face. At length he said
coldly:
"I will do as you ask. I place no reliance on your statements, but you
are right in asking for the means of substantiating them. I will see
you, or any one you may send to-morrow."
"You will be at home?" she asked, anxiously. "The hunt?"
"The hunt will hardly take place; the weather is too much against us,"
replied Lionel Dale. "Except there should be a very decided change,
there will be no hunt, and I shall be at home." Having said this,
Lionel Dale rose, with a decided air of dismissal. The gipsy rose too,
and stood unshrinkingly before him, as she said:
"And now I will leave you. Good night. You think me a mad woman, or an
impostor. This is the second occasion on which you have misjudged me,
Mr. Dale."
As the rector met the earnest gaze of her brilliant eyes, a strange
feeling took possession of his mind. It seemed to him, as if he had
before encountered that earnest and profound gaze.
"I must have seen such a face in a dream," he thought to himself;
"where else but in a dream?"
The fancy had a powerful influence over him, and occupied his mind as
he preceded the gipsy woman to the hall, and opened the door for her to
pass out.
The snow had ceased to fall; the bright wintry moon rode high in the
heaven, amidst black, hurrying clouds.
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