Drawing nearer to her the crystal bowl, the old woman bent her head over it, and whispered incantations, as it seemed, over its contents.  For a while there was deep silence in the room, and Cherry felt chill with excitement and wonder.  This was very different from the reception she and her cousin Rachel had met.  They had but been bidden to show their hands, and had then seen some cabalistic characters formed by the wise woman, from which she had told them all they wished to know.  But there had been nothing half so mysterious as this, and the girl felt certain that the wise woman regarded Cuthbert and his questions with far greater interest than any she had bestowed upon the fortunes or the ailments of Rachel.

Presently there arose, as if in the far, far distance, a sound of voices faint and confused.  Cherry clung to Cuthbert’s arm, and looked about her with a pale, scared face, half expecting to see the room filled with disembodied spirits; but his glance never shifted from the down-bent face of the wise woman, and he half suspected that the sounds proceeded in some way from her, albeit they seemed to float about in the air round them, and to approach and die away at will.

Suddenly the old woman raised her head and spoke.

“Thy mission to me this day is to ask news of the lost treasure of Trevlyn.”

Cherry started, and so did Cuthbert.  There could be no doubting the old woman’s power now.  If she could see so much in her bowl, could she not likewise see where that lost treasure lay buried?

“Thou speakest sooth, mother,” he said boldly.  “It is of the lost treasure I would speak.  Canst tell me if it still remains as it was when it was lost?  Canst tell me the spot where it lies hid, that I may draw it thence?  If thou canst lead me to it, thou shalt not lose thy reward; thou shalt be rich for life.”

The youth spoke eagerly; but a curious smile crept over the old woman’s face at his words.

“Foolish boy!” she said.  “Seest thou not that if gold were my desire I have but to discover the place where the treasure lies to some stalwart knave sworn to do my bidding, and all would be mine?  Could I not sell this golden secret to the highest bidder, an wealth was all I craved?  Foolish, foolish boy—­impetuous like all thy race!  What hast thou to offer me that I may not obtain by one wave of this wand?”

Cuthbert was silent, wondering alike at the old woman and her words.  If she was not disposed to sell her golden secret (and what she said was but too true—­that the treasure would be more to her than any reward), what hope was there of her revealing it to him?  He stood silent and perplexed, waiting for the old woman to speak again.

“Cuthbert Trevlyn,” she said, after a long pause, “methought that the hope of finding the treasure had long since been abandoned by thy race.”

“That may well be, but it has not been so abandoned by me.  Whilst I have youth and health and strength, I will not give up that hope.  I, the grandson of Isabel Wyvern, will not cease to strive till I have won back the lost luck that was to return to that house through the daughters’ sons.”