“Ay, and Philip’s bride will be no longer a portionless damsel, but will have gold enough and to spare.  Sweet sister, Philip hath spoken to me openly of his love.  He hath been ere this to ask thee at thy father’s hand.”

“Ay, and was driven forth with blows and curses.”

“Thou hast heard it?  But thinkest thou he will take that for an answer?  Nay, Petronella, thou wilt one day be his bride; and I will give thee to him with a joyful heart, for he loved thee in the days of our poverty and distress; so that one knows his love is for thee and thee alone, not for the fair dowry thou wilt presently bring.”

Petronella hid her happy, blushing face on her brother’s shoulder, and thus they stood awhile, till the girl drew back with a light shiver and said: 

“Cuthbert, can it be right for us thus to stand thinking of our own happiness, whilst he lies there so still and cold?”

“I was just about to bid thee give me leave to bury him, whilst thou dost rest thyself awhile.  We will not grudge him that last service; and it will be safer and better to do it here than to give notice of his death to the gipsies and outlaws, and so bring them down upon us in this place, provoking perchance their vengeance upon ourselves.  I have here a spade, brought to dig after the treasure.  I little thought it would first be used to dig Long Robin’s grave.  But the task had better be done, and that quickly.  The man is dead as a stone.  We will bury him away out of our sight ere we do aught beside.”

Petronella assented with a slight shudder.  She could not regret the death of the giant gipsy, who himself made so light of human life, and would have slain her brother before her eyes without a qualm.  But she shivered each time she looked at the motionless form, and was glad when, after some hours of hard work beneath the trees, Cuthbert succeeded in dragging the corpse away and in covering it up from sight.  Kneeling beside the rude grave, the girl breathed a prayer for the soul of the departed man, and repeated many an ave and paternoster, in the hope of smoothing for him his passage into eternity (being still considerably imbued with the teachings of her early life, which the newer and clearer faith had by no means eradicated), and then she rose comforted and relieved, feeling as though a dark weight had passed from her spirit.

Daylight had now come, and the girl was very weary.  She looked so wan and white that Cuthbert was alarmed, and fed her tenderly with the best his wallet could supply; after which he took her up to his nest in the sycamore, first bringing the rug that was lying in the hollow tree to wrap around her.  There he succeeded in making her so comfortable and secure that she fell asleep almost at once, and he was hopeful she would sleep the whole time of his absence, for she was worn out with fatigue, and only just recovering from an illness.  How she had borne the fatigues of that night he scarce knew; but she possessed her share of the Trevlyn tenacity of purpose, and her strong will had conquered the feebleness of her frame.