"I never did see any one so changed as my young lady," said Will, as he returned to the kitchen. "When she first came here, she was as scared as a young fawn, and the moment any one spoke to her, her great black eyes were looking every way like a startled hares: but now she seems to have plucked up a spirit, and speaks so quiet and dignified like. That old woman must have used the child awful to have cowed and broken her spirit so. It makes my old blood boil to think of it."
Lucy ate her breakfast with old Goodman sitting at her elbow contentedly munching the crusts she gave him. Then she walked a while upon the terrace; visited and inspected a litter of kittens which Will had found in the stable; and finally sat down to her lessons in the bow-window, with the dog still in close attendance.
She had finished her practising and learned her spelling-lesson, and was sitting industriously working at the open-hem she used to dislike so much, when the window was suddenly darkened by a shadow, and, at the same moment, Goodman bristled up and gave a deep growl.
Lucy looked up.
There before the open window stood the gipsy-woman, with her black glittering eyes fixed upon Lucy's face.
"So, my young lady, this is the way you keep your promise to the gipsy-woman! You bring me to the place appointed and keep me waiting, the whole afternoon while you take your pleasure at home. But beware what you do! I am not to be played with, as you may find to your cost some day."
For the moment, Lucy's fears overmastered her new-found faith and courage. She sat pale and trembling, unable to stir or even to call for help. The wicked woman saw her advantage.
"Did you hear the storm last night and the night before? Ay, but did you know what was riding upon the lightning and the wind, waiting only for my word to lay this proud roof-tree and all beneath it low in the dust? You little know what my art can do yet for good or evil!"
She fixed her eyes upon the work-box which stood open on the table, and continued, in a still fiercer tone, "Give me something from that box as I bade you; give me my choice from it, and you shall find all you have lost, and be lucky and prosperous henceforth. Refuse or betray me, and you shall never know one peaceful night more, but shall pine and pine, till you shall wish in vain for death to release you. Give it me, I say, or I will take it."
"I will not!" returned Lucy, finding her voice and her courage all at once. "You are a wicked woman; and I will not give you any more of my dear mother's things. Goodman, watch good dog!"