"Is Sybil within the chapel?" asked Barbara.
"I am here," returned a voice from the altar.
"Why do we tarry?" said the gipsy queen. "We are all assembled. To the altar."
"To the altar!" shrieked Eleanor. "Oh! no—no——"
"Remember my threat, and obey," muttered Barbara. "You are in my power now."
A convulsive sob was all the answer Eleanor could make.
"Our number is not complete," said the priest, who had looked in vain for the sexton. "Peter Bradley is not with us."
"Ha!" exclaimed Barbara. "Let him be sought for instantly."
"Their search need not extend beyond this spot," said Peter, stepping forward.
The knight of Malta advanced towards the altar. The torchlight reddened upon the huge stone pillars. It fell upon the shrine, and upon the ghastly countenance of Sybil, who stood beside it. Suddenly, as the light approached her, an object, hitherto hidden from view, was revealed. Sybil uttered a prolonged and fearful shriek; the knight recoiled likewise in horror; and a simultaneous cry of astonishment burst from the lips of the foremost of the group. All crowded forwards, and universal consternation prevailed amongst the assemblage. Each one gazed at his neighbor, anxious to learn the occasion of this tumult, and vague fears were communicated to those behind, from the terrified glances, which were the only answers returned by their comrades in front.