CHAPTER XXIII.
THE BIRD CAGED.
"Lay on him the curse of a withered heart,
The curse of a sleepless eye;
Till he wish and pray that his life would part,
Nor yet find leave to die."—Scott.
orning came. The squire sat in the breakfast parlor, impatiently waiting for the coming of Gipsy. He waited in vain. The moments flew on; still she came not.
Losing patience at last, he caught the bell-rope and rang a furious peal. Five minutes after the black face and woolly head of Totty appeared in the doorway.
"Totty, where's your young mistress?"
"Here!" answered the voice of Gipsy herself, as she stood, bright and smiling, behind Totty.
Somehow, that smile alarmed the old man, and he began trembling for the decision he had so anxiously been expecting.