Tried for Her Life. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

she was the guest of the worst of outlaws—sacrilegious church-robbers! But soon her attention was attracted by the splendor of the scene around, when the stalactite walls of the cavern, lighted up by the great candles, emitted millions of prismatic rays of every brilliant hue, as if they were encrusted with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, amethysts, topazes, and carbuncles, all of the purest fire.

      "Splendid, is it not? What palace chamber can compare to ours?" inquired the girl, on observing the evident admiration with which her guest gazed upon the scene.

      Before Sybil had time to reply there was the heavy trampling of feet near at hand, and the next moment four rough looking men entered the cave.

      Involuntarily Sybil shrank closer to her hostess, as they passed near her. But not one of them either did or said anything to alarm or offend her. Each one, in his turn, gruffly greeted her by nodding, as he pulled off his hat and threw it into a corner, and then seated himself at the table.

      The elfin girl clapped her hands, and when her attendant appeared, she ordered that supper should be immediately brought in.

      Meantime Sybil furtively observed the four robbers, but one of them especially fascinated her gaze, with something of the terrible fascination that the boa-constrictor is said to exercise upon the beautiful birds of the Brazilian forest.

      He was a great red-haired and red-bearded giant, whose large limbs and coarse features had well earned for him the nick-name of "Moloch;" and Moloch, Sybil instinctively knew this man to be. The other three were ordinary, hirsute, dirty ruffians, upon whom she scarcely bestowed a glance. Her eyes continually reverted to Moloch, from whom she could not long keep them. He was huge, ugly, brutal, ferocious; but he commanded attention, if only from the power that was within him.

      But what terrified Sybil the most was this—that her own fascinated eyes at length attracted his, and he looked at her with a devouring gaze that made her eyelids fall and her very heart sink within her.

      The two women—the dark and shrivelled old Hecate, and the pale, cold Proserpine—now brought in the supper. And as the elfin hostess had declared, a more luxurious meal did not grace the table of the State's Governor that day. There were green-turtle soup, rock fish, ham, wild turkey, and partridges, with every variety of vegetables and of condiments. And there were pies, puddings, custards, and pastries of every description. And jellies, jams, and fresh and preserved fruits, of every sort. And there were priceless wines, and fragrant coffee and tea. All these luxuries were placed at once upon the supper table, or a side table in full view of the company.

      "We have no printed bill of fare," laughed Sybil's strange hostess; "but the fare itself is before you!"

      "Let the lady be seated in the place of honor," growled Moloch, glowering at Sybil with his dreadful eyes.

      "Which means the piano stool, I suppose," said the strange hostess, taking Sybil by the hand, and leading her to the seat in question.

      She suffered herself to be put into it; but the next instant she was horrified by the insolence of Moloch, who deliberately arose from his seat and came around and placed himself beside her, and laid his great hand upon her shoulder.

      "You are handsome," he said "Do you know it? But of course you do. The swells have told you so a many times."

      "Don't touch me!" said Sybil, shrinking from him.

      "Now don't put on airs. You're one of us, you know, and so we'll 'fend you to the last drop of blood in our weins. Only don't put on airs; but be kind to them as are kind to you," growled the brute.

      "But take your hand away—please do. I cannot bear it!" cried Sybil, shrinking farther off still.

      "Why, now, if you only knowed what this here hand have done in your sarvice, you'd fondle on to it, instead o' flinging it off like it was a wasp," coaxed the ruffian, stealing his arm around her neck.

      But Sybil, with a sudden and violent gesture, cast it off, and started to her feet, seizing the knife beside her as a weapon of defence.

      "Lord bless your pretty little soul, what's the good of that? Why, when I was a lad, I always liked to tease the kittens best that spit and scratched and fit the most! That only makes me like you better. Come now, sit down alongside o' me, and let's be good friends," said the ruffian, throwing his arms around Sybil, and forcing her into her seat.

      "Stop that, you devilish beast! Let the lady alone!" cried Sybil's nameless hostess, in a voice of authority.

      "Don't be jealous, my darling," replied Moloch, tightening his clasp around Sybil's waist.

      "Men! why don't you interfere? He is rude to the lady!" cried the girl, appealing to the others.

      "We never meddle between other men and their sweethearts. Do we, mates?" called out one.

      "No, no, no!" answered the others.

      "Oh, if Satan were here!" cried the girl in despair.

      "Satan is here!" responded a voice close by.

      And the robber captain stood among them as if he had risen from the earth!

      Moloch dropped Sybil, and cowered in the most abject manner.

      Sybil looked up, and turned cold from head to foot; for in the handsome, stately, graceful form of the brigand chief, she recognized the finished gentleman who, in the character of "Death," had danced with her at her own Mask ball, and—the probable murderer of Rosa Blondelle!

CHAPTER VI.

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THE ROBBER CHIEFTAIN.

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