Sybil watched her in silence some time, and then spoke:
"I have been with you twenty-four hours, and yet do not know your name. Will you never tell it to me?"
"Yes, my name is Gentiliska; but you may call me Iska."
"Iska? Gentiliska? Where have I heard that singular name before?" inquired Sybil of herself; for in fact so many startling incidents had happened to her lately, that her mind was rather confused. She reflected a moment before she could recall the idea of the Gipsy girl, in the legend of the "Haunted Chapel." She turned and gazed at her hostess with renewed interest. A superstitious thrill ran through her frame. Yes; here were all the points of resemblance between this strange being and the spectral girl of the story! Here were the Gipsy features, the long black elf-locks, the jet black eyes, and arch eye-brows depressed towards the nose and lifted towards the temple, the elfish expression, the manner, the dress, the very name itself!
"Why do you look at me so strangely?" inquired the girl.
"Gentiliska!" repeated Sybil, as in a dream.
"Yes, that's it! Most of the girls of my race have borne it; but my great-grandmother was the last before me."
"Your great-grandmother?" echoed Sybil still as in a dream.
"Yes; she had no daughter or granddaughter, else they also would have been Gentiliska's. She had only a son and a grandson, and her grandson had only me," calmly replied the girl.
Sybil gasped for breath; and when she recovered her voice she exclaimed: