Nothing passed between the party till Luke joined them. Eleanor continued gazing at him, and the seeming tenderness of her glance emboldened Luke to advance towards her. The soft fire that dwelt in those orbs was, however, cold as the shining wing of the luciola.
Luke approached her; he took her hand—she withdrew it not. He kissed it. Still she withdrew it not, but gazed at him with gently-glimmering eyes.
"My daughter is yours, Sir Luke Rookwood," exclaimed Mrs. Mowbray.
"What says the maid herself?" asked Luke.
Eleanor answered not. Her eyes were still fixed on him.
"She will not refuse me her hand," said Luke.
The victim resisted not.
"To the subterranean shrine," cried Barbara. And she gave the preconcerted signal to the band.
The signal was repeated by the gipsy crew. We may here casually note, that the crew had been by no means uninterested or silent spectators of passing events, but had, on the contrary, indulged themselves in a variety of conjectures as to their probable issue. Several bets were pending as to whether it would be a match or not after all. Zoroaster took long odds that the match was off—offering a bean to half-a-quid—in other words, a guinea to a half-guinea—that Sybil would be the bride. His offer was taken at once by Jerry Juniper, and backed by the knight of Malta.
"Ha! there's the signal," cried the knight; "I'll trouble you for the bean."