tongue. Her struggles ceased; she made a brief reply in the same language, raised her hands with a very peculiar gesture above her head, and then pressed them to her heart. A look passed between them, and she was led quietly from the room.
During the week of her imprisonment, her humble and sad bearing won upon the hearts of all. The elderly clergyman exerted even more than his usual anxious care; but the holy eloquence which had subdued so many a sinner to repentance, and worked good out of evil, here utterly failed. The blessed truths of the Christian faith were poured fruitlessly into ears that evidently heard them for the first time, and were lost upon one whose belief was already given to the wild superstitions taught in childhood and youth. It was equally vain to question her about the crime for which they were committed to prison; her constant reply was, "He said he was innocent: why do you doubt him?"
Once and once only did she ask after her companion, and then instantly checked herself; more, it seemed, from a fear of giving him offence, than out of any regard to those around her. There was a singular character about the love she manifested towards him; it united the passionate devotedness of the mistress, the entire union of interests felt by the wife, the submission of the child, and something of the awe and homage paid by the vassal to his master. The gipsy's own conduct had been very different; he had contrived to make himself an
