“Was it here the old woman killed her?” I whispered.
“No, she never reached this. It was at Greenhurst.”
“Why do you bring me here?” I said, shuddering.
“That you may see how much power there was in an old woman’s curse.”
“It is terrible,” I whispered, looking around. “My mother, has she not been fearfully avenged?”
“Avenged!” answered the gipsy; “do you call this vengeance? Not till every member of that proud house is in the dust—not till Aurora’s child triumphs over them, body and soul, shall Papita’s curse be fulfilled!”
His words fell upon me like blows; they were crushing me to the earth. I thought of George Irving. His treachery was forgotten; my heart only remembered his kindness—his love.
“What, all?” I questioned.
“All! Poverty, disgrace, death, these are the curses which Papita has left for you to accomplish.”
“For me?” I questioned, aghast.