“I do not,” said the gaunt, heartless-looking fellow, with a coarse laugh. “It matters naught to me. But, if you want to have a look at the body, here it is,” said he, with a grin, as at the same time he uncovered and lifted the lid of a rough coffin which was in the covered cart. (See cut in No. 19.)
From some strange impulse Ellen Harmer darted forward a step or two, and looked.
With a loud scream she fainted and fell.
The dead body was that of poor Andrew, her old and faithful lover, who had been brutally slain out of revenge by Colonel Blood’s spy.
She was led away from the spot in a swooning condition by two men.
“Do not go with them—do not trust yourself with those two ruffians,” said a haggard-looking old woman who now came upon the scene.
“Hold thy tongue, Hannah,” said the gipsy chief, with an oath.
“I will not, I cannot!” said the old woman; “you mean the girl no good; you have evil in your eye. Miss Harmer, Miss Harmer, do not go with them through Darlington Woods. Heed me, hear me, sweet lady, hear me.”
But before she could utter another word she was struck to the ground in a brutal manner, and Ellen Harmer, more dead than alive, was borne through the woods towards her native village.
But alas! she never reached it!