“A cruel death, in all truth,” said Cuthbert.  “Yet why hold Sir Richard in fault?  He was not the maker of that law; he was but the instrument used for its enforcement, the magistrate bound to see the will of the sovereign performed.  Most like he could not help himself, were his heart never so pitiful.  I trow the Trevlyns have always done their duty; yet I misdoubt me if by nature they have been sterner or more cruel than other men.”

A faint smile flickered round the lips of the gipsy.  She went on with her story without heeding this plea.

“They had made shift to see her once before her death—­my mother, my father, and Esther with them.  Upon those three she had laid a solemn charge—­a charge to be handed down to their children, and passed throughout all the tribe—­a charge of deadly hatred to all that bore the name of Trevlyn—­a charge to deal them one day some terrible blow in vengeance for her death, a vengeance that should be felt to the third and fourth generation.”

“I have heard somewhat of that,” said Cuthbert.

“Ay, the old woman raved out her curses in the hearing of all as she was fastened to the stake and the flames leaped about her.  All heard and many treasured up those words, and hence the tradition always in men’s mouths that the treasure of Trevlyn was filched by the gipsy folks in fulfilment of that curse.  But now another word.  My grandam laid another charge upon the tribe and all who claimed kindred with her; and that charge was that all should give loving and watchful care and tender service to the house of Wyvern; that all bearing that name should be the especial care of the gipsies—­they and their children after them, whether bearing the old name or not.  The Wyverns had been true friends to the gipsy folk, had protected them in many an hour of peril, had spoken them gently and kindly when all men else spoke ill of them, had given them food and shelter and a place to live in; and to my grandam had given a home and sanctuary one bitter winter’s night, when, pursued by foes who strove then to get her into their hands and do her to death, she flung herself upon their charity, and received a welcome and a home in her hour of peril and sore need.  It was beneath the roof of the Wyverns that Esther first saw the light; and in gratitude for their many acts of charity and kindness my grandam, ere she died, laid instructions on all who owned her sway that the Wyverns and all descended from them should be sacred to the gipsies—­watched over and guarded from all ill.”

“Ah!” said Cuthbert, drawing a long breath; “and shortly after that a Wyvern wedded with this same Sir Richard.”

“Ay, and that but just one short month before his house was to have been burned about his head, and he himself slain had he come forth alive.  All the plans were laid, and it was to be done so soon as he should return to the Chase after long absence.  Long Robin had planned it all, and he had a head as clever and a will as firm as any man that ever lived.  He had thought of all—­he had everything in order; and then came the news that the knight had wed with Isabel Wyvern, the tenderest, the sweetest, the gentlest maiden that ever drew breath; and when they knew that, even Long Robin knew that no hand could thenceforward be raised against the knight.”