"Ah!" said the gipsy, whilst a smile of scorn distorted her lip,--"so
you will demean yourself now to look upon me; and you would like to know
what I could tell you?"
"Indeed, indeed, I would!" exclaimed Tamar, all flushed and trembling.
"Oh, in pity, in mercy tell me who I am and who are my parents?--if
they still live; if I have any chance or--hope of seeing them?"
"One is no more," replied the gipsy. "She from whom I took you lies in
the earth on Norwood Common. I stretched the corpse myself,--it was a
bonny corpse."
Tamar fetched a deep, a very deep sigh. "Does my father live?" she
asked.
"Your father!" repeated the gipsy, with a malignant laugh,--"your
father!"
Tamar became more and more agitated; but excessive feeling made her
appear almost insensible. With great effort she repeated,--"Does my
father live?"
"He does," replied the woman, with a malignant smile, "and shall I tell
you where and how?--shut up, confined in a strong-hold, caught like a
vile animal in a trap. Do you understand me, Tamar? I think they call
you Tamar."
"What!" said the poor girl, gasping for breath, "is my father a
convicted felon?"
"I used no such words," replied the gipsy; "but I told you that he lies
shut up; and he is watched and guarded, too, I tell you.
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