One of the men had ridden forward to give notice of their approach,
and soon in the flickering moonlight the gray walls of an ancient
mill, now greatly fallen to decay, became visible to the
travellers' eyes. From the open door streamed out a flood of ruddy
light, cheering indeed to cold and weary men; whilst framed in this
ruddy glow was a tall and picturesque figure--the figure of an old
woman, a scarlet kerchief tied over her white hair, whilst her
dress displayed that picturesque medley of colours that has always
been the prevailing characteristic of the gipsy race.

"You are welcome, son Tyrrel," quoth the mistress of this lone
dwelling, as the little cavalcade drew up at the door. "It is long
since you favoured old Miriam with a visit. Yet you come at no ill
time, since Red Ronald brought us in a fat buck but yesternight,
and I have made oaten cakes today, and pies of the best. But who is
that with you! I like not new faces in my dwelling place. It were
well you should remember this ere you bring a stranger with you."

The old woman's face suddenly darkened as she spoke these last
words, and her wonderful eyes, so large and dark as to resemble
rather those of a deer than a human being, flashed fiercely, whilst
she seemed about to close the door in Tyrrel's face. But he pushed
in with a light laugh, leading Cuthbert with him, and saying as he
did so:

"Nay, nay, mother, be not so fierce. He is an honest lad enough, I
trow; if not, 'twill be the worse for him anon. We have brought him
hither to search him if he carries gold concealed. If not, and he
proves to have spoken sooth, he may go his way or join with us,