But my great grandame outmatched him over and over again in this sort of cunning. Before advancing into the room where the Englishman sat waiting for her, she closed the door and drew a bolt inside, at which Turner flung indignantly away, and took his seat on a bench beneath his lord’s window, which was open, and the muslin curtain flowing softly over it.
But scarcely had he seated himself when the window was shut down with a crash, and the curtains drawn close. Then Turner fell back against the side of the house, and struggled with the Sibyl no longer, satisfied, as most men are who essay the experiment, that in a fair struggle of wit, tact, or management, few men ever come out successfully against a woman, young or old, fair or otherwise.
CHAPTER XII.
TEMPTATIONS AND RESOLUTIONS.
Meantime the old gipsy stood face to face with the Englishman, who regarded her with an appearance of ease which an anxious gleam of the eyes contradicted.
“One word,” he said, breaking through all restraints as she was about to address him—“one word before you speak of other things. Is Aurora safe? Is it to tell me this, or ask her at my hands that you come?”
The Sibyl was pleased with his agitation and his eagerness. It promised well for her mission.
“Aurora is safe!” she answered, and it was wonderful how the usual fierce tones of her voice were modulated. Nothing could be more respectful, nay, winning, than her every look and tone. “Aurora is safe as yet—but our people have arisen; they will not be satisfied till her blood reddens the Valley of Stones.”
“But you—you—oh, heavens—you cannot see this done. Poor child, she is innocent as a flower.”
“They do not believe it!”
“But you believe it—her grandame—you will be his friend.”