And, with a malignant scowl, the gipsy queen slowly shuffled towards her satellites, who were stationed at the door.
CHAPTER VIII
THE PARTING
No marriage I esteem it, where the friends
Force love upon their children; where the virgin
Is not so truly given as betrayed.
I would not have betrothed people—for
I can by no means call them lovers—make
Their rites no wedlock, but a sacrifice.
Combat of Love and Friendship.
Eleanor Mowbray had witnessed her mother's withdrawal from her side with much uneasiness, and was with difficulty prevented by Sybil from breaking upon her conference with the gipsy queen. Barbara's dark eye was fixed upon them during the whole of the interview, and communicated an indefinite sense of dread to Eleanor.
"Who—who is that old woman?" asked Eleanor, under her breath. "Never, even in my wildest dreams, have I seen aught so terrible. Why does she look so at us? She terrifies me; and yet she cannot mean me ill, or my mother—we have never injured her?"
"Alas!" sighed Sybil.