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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/35462-h.zip b/35462-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6921616 --- /dev/null +++ b/35462-h.zip diff --git a/35462-h/35462-h.htm b/35462-h/35462-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e8db447 --- /dev/null +++ b/35462-h/35462-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14471 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset= ISO-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sharing her Crime, by May Agnes Fleming. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +p.citation {text-align: right;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.floatleft {float: left; clear: left; text-align: center; width: auto; + padding-top: 0.2em; padding-bottom: 0.2em;} + +img.cap { float:left; + margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; + position: relative; } +p.cap_1 { text-indent: -0.4em; } +div.drop p:first-letter { color: black; } +div.drop p { margin-bottom:0;} + + + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + +.poemblock24 {margin: auto; + width: 24em; + text-align: center; +} + +.poemblock26 {margin: auto; + width: 26em; + text-align: center; +} + +.poemblock28 {margin: auto; + width: 28em; + text-align: center; +} + +.poemblock30 {margin: auto; + width: 30em; + text-align: center; +} + +.poemblock32 {margin: auto; + width: 32em; + text-align: center; +} + +.poemblock34 {margin: auto; + width: 34em; + text-align: center; +} + +.poemblock36 {margin: auto; + width: 36em; + text-align: center; +} + +.poemblock38 {margin: auto; + width: 38em; + text-align: center; +} + +.poemblock40{margin: auto; + width: 40em; + text-align: center; +} + +.poemblock44 {margin: auto; + width: 44em; + text-align: center; +} + +.poemblock48 {margin: auto; + width: 48em; + text-align: center; +} + +.poemblock50 {margin: auto; + width: 50em; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Transcriber's Note and Corrections */ + + .tnote { border: dashed 1px; + padding: 1em; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-right: 0%; + margin-bottom: 3em; + margin-left: 0%; + page-break-after: always; } + + .tnote p { text-indent: 0em; margin-left: 2em; margin-top: .5em; font-size: 90%; } + + .tnote h3 { text-indent: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-align: center; font-size: 100%; + font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; } + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sharing Her Crime, by May Agnes Fleming + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sharing Her Crime + +Author: May Agnes Fleming + +Release Date: March 3, 2011 [EBook #35462] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHARING HER CRIME *** + + + + +Produced by Brenda Lewis, woodie4 and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h3>POPULAR NOVELS.</h3> + +<h2>By May Agnes Fleming.</h2> + +<p style="margin-left: 35%;"> + 1.—GUY EARLSCOURT'S WIFE.<br /> + 2.—A WONDERFUL WOMAN.<br /> + 3.—A TERRIBLE SECRET.<br /> + 4.—NORINE'S REVENGE.<br /> + 5.—A MAD MARRIAGE.<br /> + 6.—ONE NIGHT'S MYSTERY.<br /> + 7.—KATE DANTON.<br /> + 8.—SILENT AND TRUE.<br /> + 9.—HEIR OF CHARLTON.<br /> +10.—CARRIED BY STORM.<br /> +11.—LOST FOR A WOMAN.<br /> +12.—A WIFE'S TRAGEDY.<br /> +13.—A CHANGED HEART.<br /> +14.—PRIDE AND PASSION.<br /> +15.—SHARING HER CRIME (<i>New</i>). +</p> + + + +<p class="center">"Mrs. Fleming's stories are growing more and more<br /> popular every day. +Their delineations of character,<br /> life-like conversations, flashes of +wit, constantly<br /> varying scenes, and deeply interesting<br /> plots, combine to +place their<br /> author in the very first<br /> rank of Modern<br /> Novelists."<br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 10%;" /> + +<h5>All published uniform with this volume. Price $1.50 each,<br /> and sent +<i>free</i> by mail on receipt of price,</h5> + +<h5>BY</h5> + +<h3>G. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishers,<br /> +New York.<br /><br /><br /><br /></h3> + + +<h1> +SHARING<br /> +HER CRIME.<br /><br /></h1> + +<h4>A Novel.<br /><br /><br /></h4> + +<h4>BY<br /></h4> +<h2>MAY AGNES FLEMING,</h2> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF<br /></h4> + + +<p class="center">"GUY EARLSCOURT'S WIFE," "A TERRIBLE SECRET," "SILENT AND TRUE,"<br /> +"A WONDERFUL WOMAN," "LOST FOR A WOMAN,"<br /> +"ONE NIGHT'S MYSTERY," "A MAD MARRIAGE,"<br /> +ETC., ETC.<br /><br /><br /></p> + +<div class="poemblock28"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A perfect woman, nobly planned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To warn, to comfort, and command;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet a spirit still and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With something of an angel light."</span> +</div></div><br /></div> + +<h3>NEW YORK:</h3> + +<h5>Copyright, 1882, by</h5> + +<h3><i>G. W. Carleton & Co., Publishers</i>.<br /></h3> + + +<h4>LONDON: S. LOW & CO.</h4> +<h5>MDCCCLXXXIII.<br /></h5> + +<h4>Stereotyped by<br /> +<span class="smcap">Samuel Stodder</span>,<br /> +90 <span class="smcap">Ann Street</span>, N. Y.<br /><br /></h4> + +<h4><span class="smcap">TROW<br /> +PRINTING AND BOOK BINDING CO.</span>,<br /> +N. Y.<br /></h4> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" width="60%" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="contents"> +<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER</td><td align="left"></td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I</a>.</td><td align="left">The Plotters</td><td align="right">7</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II</a>.</td><td align="left">The Death of Esther</td><td align="right">18</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III</a>.</td><td align="left">The Astrologer</td><td align="right">24</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV</a>.</td><td align="left">Barry Oranmore</td><td align="right">29</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V</a>.</td><td align="left">Mount Sunset Hall</td><td align="right">37</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI</a>.</td><td align="left">Lizzie's Lover</td><td align="right">49</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII</a>.</td><td align="left">The Cypress Wreath</td><td align="right">62</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII</a>.</td><td align="left">Gipsy</td><td align="right">70</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX</a>.</td><td align="left">A Storm at Mount Sunset Hall</td><td align="right">82</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X</a>.</td><td align="left">Miss Hagar</td><td align="right">91</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI</a>.</td><td align="left">Gipsy Outwits the Squire</td><td align="right">101</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII</a>.</td><td align="left">The Tigress and the Dove</td><td align="right">109</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII</a>.</td><td align="left">Gipsy Astonishes the Natives</td><td align="right">119</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV</a>.</td><td align="left">The Moonlight Flitting</td><td align="right">130</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV</a>.</td><td align="left">The "Star of the Valley."</td><td align="right">139</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI</a>.</td><td align="left">Our Gipsy</td><td align="right">150</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII</a>.</td><td align="left">Gipsy's Return to Sunset Hall</td><td align="right">158</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII</a>.</td><td align="left">Archie</td><td align="right">169</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX</a>.</td><td align="left">Gipsy's Daring</td><td align="right">182</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX</a>.</td><td align="left">The Sailor Boy's Doom</td><td align="right">191</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI</a>.</td><td align="left">The Spider Weaves his Web</td><td align="right">204</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII</a>.</td><td align="left">Fetters for the Eaglet</td><td align="right">215</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII</a>.</td><td align="left">The Bird Caged</td><td align="right">222</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV</a>.</td><td align="left">May and December</td><td align="right">235</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV</a>.</td><td align="left">Archie's Lost Love</td><td align="right">246</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI</a>.</td><td align="left">Louis</td><td align="right">254</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII</a>.</td><td align="left">Love at First Sight</td><td align="right">267</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII</a>.</td><td align="left">"The Old, Old Story."</td><td align="right">277</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX</a>.</td><td align="left">The Rivals</td><td align="right">287</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX</a>.</td><td align="left">Gipsy Hunts New Game</td><td align="right">296</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI</a>.</td><td align="left">Celeste's Trial</td><td align="right">306</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII</a>.</td><td align="left">"The Queen of Song."</td><td align="right">318</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII</a>.</td><td align="left">A Startling Discovery</td><td align="right">328</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV</a>.</td><td align="left">Light in the Darkness</td><td align="right">334</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV</a>.</td><td align="left">The Death-bed Confession</td><td align="right">341</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI</a>.</td><td align="left">Retribution</td><td align="right">351</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">XXXVII</a>.</td><td align="left">Another Surprise</td><td align="right">357</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">XXXVIII</a>.</td><td align="left">The Heiress of Sunset Hall</td><td align="right">364</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">XXXIX</a>.</td><td align="left">"Last Scene of All."</td><td align="right">373</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> +<h2>SHARING HER CRIME.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>THE PLOTTERS.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock28"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Tis a woman hard of feature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old, and void of all good nature.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis an ugly, envious shrew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Railing forever at me and you."—<span class="smcap">Pope.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"><img src="images/illo_i.png" alt="I" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +t was Christmas Eve. All day long crowds of gayly dressed people had +walked the streets, basking in the bright wintry sunshine. Sleigh after +sleigh went dashing past, with merrily jingling bells, freighted with +rosy cheeks, and bright eyes, and youthful faces, all aglow with +happiness.</p></div> + +<p>But the sun must set on Christmas Eve, as on all other days; and redly, +threateningly, angrily, he sank down in the far west. Dark, sullen +clouds came rolling ominously over the heavens; the wind blew piercingly +cold, accompanied with a thin, drizzling rain that froze ere it fell.</p> + +<p>Gradually the streets were deserted as the storm in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>creased in fury; but +the Yule logs were piled high, the curtains drawn, and every house, +<i>save one</i>, in the handsome street to which my story leads me, was all +aglow, all ablaze with light.</p> + +<p>In a lull of the storm the sounds of music and merry-making would rise +and swell on the air, as light feet tripped merrily amid the mazes of +the dance; or a silvery peal of laughter would break easily on the +wayfarer's ear. The reflection of the light through the crimson curtains +shed a warm, rosy glow over the snowy ground, brightening the gloom of +that stormy winter's night.</p> + +<p>But rising dark, grim, and gloomy amid those gayly lighted mansions, +stood a large, quaint building of dark-red sandstone. It stood by +itself, spectral, shadowy, and grand. No ray of light came from the +gloomy windows that seemed to be hermetically sealed. All around was +stern, black, and forbidding.</p> + +<p>And yet—yes, from one solitary window there <i>did</i> stream a long, thin +line of light. But even this did not look bright and cheerful like the +rest; it had a cold, yellowish glare, making the utter blackness of the +rest of the mansion blacker still by contrast.</p> + +<p>The room from which the light issued was high and lofty. The uncarpeted +floor was of black polished oak, as also were the wainscoting and +mantel. The walls were covered with landscape paper, representing the +hideous Dance of Death, in all its variety of frightful forms. The high +windows were hung with heavy green damask, now black with dirt and age. +A large circular table of black marble stood in one shadowy corner, and +a dark, hard sofa, so long and black that it resembled a coffin, stood +in the other.</p> + +<p>A smoldering sea-coal fire, the only cheerful thing in that gloomy room, +struggled for life in the wide, yawn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>ing chimney. Now it would die away, +enveloping the apartment in gloom, and anon flame fitfully up, until the +ghostly shadows on the wall would seem like a train of ghastly specters +flitting by in the darkness. The elm trees in front of the house trailed +their long arms against the window with a sound inexpressibly dreary; +and the driving hail beat clamorously, as if for admittance.</p> + +<p>On either side of the fire-place stood two large easy-chairs, cushioned +with deep crimson velvet. In these, facing each other, sat two +persons—a man and a woman—the only occupants of the room.</p> + +<p>The woman was tall, straight, and stiff, and seemingly about fifty years +of age. Her dress was a rustling black satin, with a small crape +handkerchief fastened on her bosom with a magnificent diamond pin. Her +hands, still small and white, were flashing with jewels as they lay +quietly folded in her lap. A widow's cap rested on her head, which was +alternately streaked with gray and jet. But her face—so stern, so +rigid, no one could look upon it without a feeling of fear. The lips—so +thin that she seemed to have no lips at all—were compressed with a look +of unswerving determination. Her forehead was low and retreating, with +thick black eyebrows meeting across the long, sharp nose, with a look at +once haughty and sinister. And from under those midnight brows glittered +and gleamed a pair of eyes so small, so sharp and keen—with such a look +of cold, searching, <i>steely</i> brightness—that the boldest gaze might +well quail before them. On that grim, hard face no trace of womanly +feeling seemed ever to have lingered—all was stern, harsh, and +freezingly cold. She sat rigidly erect in her chair, with her +needle-like eyes riveted immovably on the face of her companion, who +shifted with evident uneasiness beneath her uncompromising stare.</p> + +<p>He was a man of forty, or thereabouts, so small of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> stature that, +standing side by side, he could scarcely have reached the woman's +shoulder. But, notwithstanding his diminutive size, his limbs were +disproportionately large for his body, giving him the appearance of +being all legs and arms. His little, round bullet-head was set on a +prodigiously thick, bull-like neck; and his hair, short, and bristling +up over his head, gave him very much the look of the sun, as pictured in +the almanacs.</p> + +<p>This prepossessing gentleman was arrayed in an immaculate suit of black, +with a spotless white dickey, bristling with starch and dignity, and a +most excruciating cravat. Half a dozen rings garnished his claw-like +hands, and a prodigious quantity of watch-chain dangled from his vest. +The worthy twain were engaged in deep and earnest conversation.</p> + +<p>"Well, doctor," said the lady, in a cold, measured tone, that was +evidently habitual, "no doubt you are wondering why I sent for you in +such haste to-night."</p> + +<p>"I never wonder, madam," said the doctor, in a pompous tone—which, +considering his size, was quite imposing. "No doubt you have some +excellent reason for sending for me, which, if necessary for me to know, +you will explain."</p> + +<p>"You are right, doctor," said the lady, with a grim sort of smile. "I +<i>have</i> an excellent reason for sending for you. You are fond of money, I +know."</p> + +<p>"Why, madam, although it is the root of all evil——"</p> + +<p>"Tush, man! There is no need for Satan to quote Scripture just now," she +interrupted with a sneer. "Say, doctor, what would you do to earn five +hundred dollars to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Five hundred dollars?" said the doctor, his small eyes sparkling, while +a gleam of satisfaction lighted up his withered face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said the lady, "and if well done, I may double the sum. What +would you do for such a price?"</p> + +<p>"Rather ask me what I would <i>not</i> do."</p> + +<p>"Well, the job is an easy one. 'Tis but to——"</p> + +<p>She paused, and fixed her eyes on his face with such a wild sort of +gleam that, involuntarily, he quailed before her.</p> + +<p>"Pray go on, madam. I'm all attention," he said, almost fearing to break +the dismal silence. "'Tis but to—<i>what</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Make away with—a woman and child!"</p> + +<p>"Murder them?" said the doctor, involuntarily recoiling.</p> + +<p>"Do not use that word!" she said, sharply. "Coward! do you really blanch +and draw back! Methought one of your profession would not hesitate to +send a patient to heaven."</p> + +<p>"But, madam," said the startled doctor, "you know the penalty which the +law awards for murder."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I perceive," said the woman, scornfully, "it is not the crime you +are thinking of, but your own precious neck. Fear not, my good friend; +there is no danger of its ever being discovered."</p> + +<p>"But, my <i>dear</i> madam," said the doctor, glancing uneasily at the stern, +bitter face before him, "I have not the nerve, the strength, nor +the——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Courage!</i>" she broke in, passionately. "Oh, craven—weak, +chicken-hearted, miserable craven! Go, then—leave me, and I will do it +myself. You dare not betray me—you <i>could</i> not without bringing your +neck to the halter—so I fear you not. Oh, coward! coward! why did not +heaven make <i>me</i> a man?"</p> + +<p>In her fierce outburst of passion she arose to her feet, and her tall +figure loomed up like some unnaturally large, dark shadow. The man +quailed in fear before her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Go!" she said, fiercely, pointing to the door, "You have refused to +<i>share my crime</i>. Go! poor cowardly poltroon! but remember, Madge +Oranmore never forgives nor forgets!"</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Mrs. Oranmore, just listen to me one moment," said the +doctor, alarmed by this threat. "I have not refused, I only objected. If +you will have the goodness to explain—to tell me what I must do, I +will—see about it."</p> + +<p>"See about it!" hastily interrupted the lady. "You <i>can</i> do it—it is in +your power; and yes, or no, must be your answer, immediately."</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>"No buts, sir. I will not have them. If you answer yes, one thousand +dollars and my future patronage shall be yours. If you say no, yonder is +the door; and once you have crossed the threshold, beware! Now, Doctor +Wiseman, I await your reply."</p> + +<p>She seated herself again in her chair; and, folding her hands in her +lap, fixed her hawk-like eyes on his face, with her keen, searching +gaze. His eyes were bent in troubled thought on the floor. Not that the +crime appalled him; but if detected—<i>that</i> was the rub. Doctor Wiseman +was, as his name implies, a man of sense, with an exceedingly +accommodating conscience, that would stretch <i>ad libitum</i>, and never +troubled him with any such nonsense as remorse. But if it were +discovered! With rather unpleasant vividness, the vision of a hangman +and halter arose before him, and he involuntarily loosened his cravat. +Still, one thousand dollars <i>were</i> tempting. Doctor Nicholas Wiseman had +never been so perplexed in his life.</p> + +<p>"Well, doctor, well," impatiently broke in the lady, "have you +decided—<i>yes</i> or <i>no</i>?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said the doctor, driven to desperation by her sneering tone.</p> + +<p>"'Tis well," she replied, with a mocking smile, "I knew you were too +sensible a man to refuse. After all, 'tis but a moment's work, and all +is over."</p> + +<p>"Will you be good enough to give me the explanation now, madam?" said +the doctor, almost shuddering at the cold, unfeeling tone in which she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Certainly. You are aware, doctor, that when I married my late husband, +Mr. Oranmore, he was a widower with one son, then three years old."</p> + +<p>"I am aware of that fact, madam."</p> + +<p>"Well, you also know that when this child, Alfred, was five years of +age, <i>my</i> son, Barry, was born."</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you think it unnecessary for me to go so far back, doctor, but +I wish everything to be perfectly understood. Well, these two boys grew +up together, were sent to school and college together, and treated in +every way alike, <i>outwardly</i>; but, of course, when at home, Barry was +treated best. Alfred Oranmore had all the pride of his English +forefathers, and scorned to complain; but I could see, in his flashing +eyes and curling lips, that every slight was noticed. Mr. Oranmore never +interfered with me in my household arrangements, nor did his son ever +complain to him; though, if he had, Mr. Oranmore had too much good sense +to mention it to <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>The lady compressed her lips with stately dignity, and the doctor looked +down with something as near a smile as his wrinkled lips could wear. +<i>He</i> knew very well Mr. Oranmore would not have interfered; for never +after his marriage had the poor man dared to call his soul his own. The +lady, however, did not perceive the smile, and went on:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When Barry left college, he expressed a desire to travel for two or +three years on the Continent; and I readily gave him permission, for Mr. +Oranmore was then dead. Alfred was studying law, and I knew his dearest +wish was to travel; but, as a matter of course, it was out of the +question for <i>him</i> to go. I told him I could not afford it, that it +would cost a great deal to pay Barry's expenses, and that he must give +up all idea of it. Barry went, and Alfred staid; though, as things +afterward turned out, it would have been better had I allowed him to +go."</p> + +<p>Her eyes flashed, and her brows knit with rising anger, as she +continued;</p> + +<p>"You know old Magnus Erliston—Squire Erliston, as they call him. You +know also how very wealthy he is reputed to be—owning, besides the +magnificent estate of Mount Sunset, a goodly portion of the village of +St. Mark's. Well, Squire Erliston has two daughters, to the eldest of +whom, in accordance with the will of his father (from whom he received +the property), Mount Sunset Hall will descend. Before my husband's +death, I caused him to will his whole property to my son Barry, leaving +Alfred penniless. Barry's fortune, therefore, is large, though far from +being as enormous as that Esther Erliston was to have. Well, the squire +and I agreed that, as soon as Barry returned from Europe they should be +married, and thus unite the estates of Oranmore and Erliston. Neither +Barry nor Esther, with the usual absurdity of youth, would agree to this +arrangement; but, of course, their objection mattered little. I knew I +could easily manage Barry by the power of my stronger will; and the +squire, who is rough and blustering, could, without much difficulty, +frighten Esther into compliance—when all our schemes were suddenly +frustrated by that meddler, that busy-body, Alfred Oranmore."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>She paused, and again her eyes gleamed with concentrated hatred and +passion.</p> + +<p>"He went to Mount Sunset, and by some means met Esther Erliston. Being +what romantic writers would call one of 'nature's princes,' he easily +succeeded in making a fool of her; they eloped, were married secretly, +and Squire Erliston woke up one morning to learn that his dainty heiress +had abandoned papa for the arms of a <i>beggar</i>, and was, as the wife of a +penniless lawyer, residing in the goodly city of Washington.</p> + +<p>"Pretty Esther doubtless imagined that she had only to throw herself at +papa's feet and bathe them with her tears, to be received with open +arms. But the young lady found herself slightly mistaken. Squire +Erliston stamped, and raged, and swore, and frightened every one in St. +Mark's out of their wits; and then, calming down, 'vowed a vow' never to +see or acknowledge his daughter more. Esther was then eighteen. If she +lived to reach her majority, Mount Sunset would be hers in spite of him. +But the squire had vowed that before she should get it, he would burn +Sunset Hall to the ground and plow the land with salt. Now, doctor, I +heard that, and set myself to work. Squire Erliston has a younger +daughter; and I knew that, if Esther died, that younger daughter would +become heiress to all the property, and she would then be just as good a +wife for Barry as her sister. Well, I resolved that Esther should no +longer stand in my way, that she should never live to reach her +majority. Start not, doctor, I see that you do not yet know Madge +Oranmore."</p> + +<p>She looked like a very fiend, as she sat smiling grimly at him from her +seat.</p> + +<p>"Fortune favored me," she continued. "Alfred Oranmore, with two or three +other young men, going out one day for a sail, was overtaken by a sudden +squall—they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> knew little about managing a boat, and all on board were +drowned. I read it in the papers and set out for Washington. After much +difficulty I discovered Esther in a wretched boarding-house; for, after +her husband's death, all their property was taken for debt. She did not +know me, and I had little difficulty in persuading her to accompany me +home. Three days ago we arrived. I caused a report to be circulated at +Washington that the wife of the late Alfred Oranmore had died in great +poverty and destitution. The story found its way into the papers; I sent +one containing the account of her death to Squire Erliston; so all +trouble in that quarter is over."</p> + +<p>"And <i>Esther</i>?" said the doctor, in a husky whisper.</p> + +<p>"Of her we will speak by and by," said the lady, with a wave of her +hand; "at present I must say a few words of my son Barry. Three weeks +ago he returned home; but has, from some inexplicable cause, refused to +reside here. He boards now in a distant quarter of the city. Doctor, +what says the world about this—is there any reason given?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, madam," said the doctor, with evident reluctance.</p> + +<p>"And what is it, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>"I fear, madam, you will be offended."</p> + +<p>"'Sdeath! man, go on!" she broke in passionately. "What sayeth the +far-seeing, all-wise world of him?"</p> + +<p>"'Tis said he has brought a wife with him from Europe, whom he wishes to +conceal."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!" laughed the lady, scornfully. "Yes, I heard it too—a +barefooted bog-trotter, forsooth! But 'tis false, doctor! false, I tell +you! You must contradict the report everywhere you hear it. That any one +should dare to say that my son—my proud, handsome Barry—would marry a +potato-eating Biddy! Oh! but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> for my indignation I could laugh at the +utter absurdity."</p> + +<p>But the fierce gleam of her eye, and the passionate clenching of her +hand, bespoke her in anything but a laughing humor.</p> + +<p>"I would not for worlds this report should reach Lizzie Erliston," she +said, somewhat more calmly. "And speaking of her brings me back to her +sister. Doctor, Esther Oranmore lies in yonder room."</p> + +<p>He startled slightly, and glanced uneasily in the direction, but said +nothing.</p> + +<p>"Doctor," continued Mrs. Oranmore, in a low, stern, impressive voice, +while her piercing eyes seemed reading his very soul, "<i>she must never +live to see the sun rise again</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Madam!" he exclaimed, recoiling suddenly.</p> + +<p>"You hear me, doctor, and you <i>must</i> obey. She must not live to see +Christmas morning dawn."</p> + +<p>"Would you have me murder her?" he inquired, in a voice quivering +between fear and horror.</p> + +<p>"If you will call it by that name, yes," she replied, still keeping her +blazing eyes fixed immovably on his face. "She and her child must die."</p> + +<p>"Her child!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, come and see it. The night of its birth must be that of its +death."</p> + +<p>She rose, and making a motion for him to follow her, led the way from +the apartment. Opening a heavy oaken door, she ushered him into a dim +bed-room, furnished with a lounge, a square bedstead, whose dark drapery +gave it the appearance of a hearse, and a small table covered with +bottles and glasses. Going to the lounge, she pointed to something +wrapped in a large shawl. He bent down, and the faint wail of an infant +met his ear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>She</i> is yonder," said the lady, pointing to the bed; "examine these +bottles; she will ask you for a drink, <i>give</i> it to her—you understand! +Remember, you have promised." And before he could speak, she glided from +the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>THE DEATH OF ESTHER.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock34"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What shrieking spirit in that bloody room<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its mortal frame hath violently quitted?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the moonbeam, with a sudden gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A ghostly shadow flitted."—<span class="smcap">Hood.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_f.png" alt="F" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +or a moment he stood still, stunned and bewildered. Understand? Yes, he +understood her too well.</p></div> + +<p>He approached the bed, and softly drew back the heavy, dark curtains. +Lying there, in a troubled sleep, lay a young girl, whose face was +whiter than the pillow which supported her. Her long hair streamed in +wild disorder over her shoulders, and added to the wanness of her pale +face.</p> + +<p>She moaned and turned restlessly on her pillow, and opened a pair of +large, wild eyes, and fixed them on the unprepossessing face bending +over her. With lips and eyes opened with terror, she lay gazing, until +he said, in as gentle a voice as he could assume;</p> + +<p>"Do not be afraid of me—I am the doctor. Can I do anything for you, +child?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," she replied, faintly; "give me a drink."</p> + +<p>He turned hastily toward the table, feeling so giddy he could scarcely +stand. A tiny vial, containing a clear,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> colorless liquid, attracted his +eye. He took it up and examined it, and setting his teeth hard together, +poured its contents into a glass. Then filling it with water he +approached the bed, and raising her head, pressed it to her lips. His +hand trembled so he spilt it on the quilt. The young girl lifted her +wild, troubled eyes, and fixed them on his face with a gaze so long and +steady that his own fell beneath it.</p> + +<p>"Drink!" he said, hoarsely, still pressing it to her lips.</p> + +<p>Without a word she obeyed, draining it to the last drop. Then laying her +back on the pillow, he drew the curtain and left the room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Oranmore was sitting, as she had sat all the evening, stern and +upright in her chair. She lifted her keen eyes as he entered, and +encountered a face so pallid and ghastly that she almost started. Doctor +Wiseman tottered rather than walked to a seat.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she said, inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Well," he replied, hoarsely, "I have obeyed you."</p> + +<p>"That <i>is</i> well. But pray, Doctor Wiseman, take a glass of wine; you are +positively trembling like a whipped schoolboy. Go to the sideboard; nay, +do not hesitate; <i>it</i> is not poisoned."</p> + +<p>Her withering sneer did more toward reviving him than any wine could +have done. His excitement was gradually cooling down beneath those calm, +steady eyes, bent so contemptuously upon him.</p> + +<p>He drank a glass of wine, and resumed his seat before the fire, watching +sullenly the dying embers.</p> + +<p>"Well, you have performed your task?"</p> + +<p>"I have, madam, and earned my reward."</p> + +<p>"Not quite, doctor; the infant is yet to be disposed of."</p> + +<p>"Must it die, too?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, but not here. You must remove it, in any way you please, but death +is the safest, the surest."</p> + +<p>"And why not here?"</p> + +<p>"Because I do not wish it," she answered, haughtily; "that is enough for +you, sirrah! You must take the child away to-night."</p> + +<p>"What shall I do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Dolt! blockhead! have you no brains?" she said, passionately. "Are you +aware ten minutes' walk will bring you to the sea-side? Do you know the +waves refuse nothing, and tell no tales? Never hesitate, man! You have +gone too far to draw back. Think of the reward; one thousand dollars for +ten minutes' work! Tush, doctor! I protest, you're trembling like a +nervous girl."</p> + +<p>"Is it not enough to make one tremble?" retorted the doctor, roused to +something like passion by her deriding tone; "two murders in one +night—is that <i>nothing</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! no—a sickly girl and a puling child more or less in the world +is no great loss. Hark!" she added, rising suddenly, as a wild, piercing +shriek of more than mortal agony broke from the room where Esther lay. +"Did you hear that?"</p> + +<p>Hear it! The man's face was horribly ghastly and livid, as shriek after +shriek, wild, piercing, and shrill with anguish, burst upon his ear. +Great drops of perspiration stood on his brow—his teeth chattered as +though by an ague fit, and he trembled so perceptibly that he was forced +to grasp the chair for support.</p> + +<p>Not so the woman. She stood calm, listening with perfect composure to +the agonizing cries, that were growing fainter and fainter each moment.</p> + +<p>"It is well none of the servants are in this end of the house," she +said, quietly; "or those loud screams would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> be overheard, and might +give rise to disagreeable remarks."</p> + +<p>Receiving no answer from her companion, she turned to him, and seeing +the look of horror on his ghastly face, her lip curled with involuntary +scorn. It was strange she could stand there so unmoved, knowing herself +to be a murderess, with the dying cries of her victim still ringing in +her ears.</p> + +<p>They ceased at last—died away in a low, despairing moan, and then all +grew still. The deep, solemn silence was more appalling than her shrieks +had been, for they well knew they were stilled forever in death.</p> + +<p>"All is over!" said Mrs. Oranmore, drawing a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"Yes," was the answer, in a voice so hoarse and unnatural, that it +seemed to issue from the jaws of death.</p> + +<p>Again she looked at him, and again the mocking smile curled her lip.</p> + +<p>"Doctor," she said, quietly, "you are a greater coward than I ever took +you to be. I am going in now to see her—you had better follow me, if +you are not <i>afraid</i>."</p> + +<p>How sardonic was the smile which accompanied these words. Stunned, +terrified as he was, it stung him, and he started after her from the +room.</p> + +<p>They entered the chamber of the invalid. Mrs. Oranmore walked to the +bed, drew back the curtains, and disclosed a frightful spectacle.</p> + +<p>Half sitting, half lying, in a strange, distorted attitude she had +thrown herself into in her dying agony, her lips swollen and purple, her +eyes protruding, her hair torn fiercely out by the roots, as she had +clutched it in her fierce anguish, was Esther.</p> + +<p>The straining eyeballs were ghastly to look upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>—the once beautiful +face was now swollen and hideous, as she lay stark dead in that lonely +room.</p> + +<p>Moment after moment passed away, while the murderers stood silently +gazing on their victim. The deep silence of midnight was around—nothing +was heard save the occasional drifting of the snow against the windows.</p> + +<p>A stern, grave smile hovered on the lips of Mrs. Oranmore, as she gazed +on the convulsed face of the dead girl. Drawing the quilt at last over +her, she turned away, saying, mockingly:</p> + +<p>"Where now, Esther Oranmore, is the beauty of which you were so proud? +This stark form and ghastly face is now all that remains of the beauty +and heiress of Squire Erliston. Such shall be the fate, sooner or later, +of all who dare to thwart me."</p> + +<p>Her eyes flamed upon the shrinking man beside her, with an expression +that made him quake. A grim smile of self-satisfied power broke over her +dark face as she observed it, and her voice had a steely tone of +command, as she said:</p> + +<p>"Now for the child. It must be immediately disposed of."</p> + +<p>"And <i>she</i>?" said the doctor, pointing to the bed.</p> + +<p>"I shall attend to that."</p> + +<p>"If you like, madam, I will save you the trouble."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," she replied, sharply; "though in life my enemy, her remains +shall never be given up to the dissecting-knife. I have not forgotten +she is a gentleman's daughter, and as such she shall be interred. Now +you may go. Wrap the child in this, and—<i>return without her</i>!"</p> + +<p>"You shall be obeyed, madam," said Doctor Wiseman, catching the +infection of her reckless spirit. He stooped and raised the infant, who +was still in a deep sleep.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>Muffling it carefully in the shawl, he followed the lady from the room, +and cautiously quitted the house.</p> + +<p>The storm had now passed away; the piercing wind had died out, and the +midnight moon sailed in unclouded majesty through the deep blue sky, +studded with myriads of burning stars.</p> + +<p>The cool night air restored him completely to himself.</p> + +<p>Holding the still sleeping infant closer in his arms, he hurried on, +until he stood on the sloping bank commanding a view of the bay.</p> + +<p>The tide was rising. The waves came splashing in on the beach—the white +foam gleaming coldly brilliant in the moonlight. The waters beyond +looked cold, and sluggish, and dark—moaning in a strange, dreary way as +they swept over the rocks. How <i>could</i> he commit the slumbering infant +to those merciless waves? Depraved and guilty as he was, he hesitated. +It lay so confidingly in his arms, slumbering so sweetly, that his heart +smote him. Yet it must be done.</p> + +<p>He descended carefully to the beach, and laying his living bundle on the +snowy sands, stood like Hagar, a distance off, to see it die.</p> + +<p>In less than ten minutes, he knew, the waves would have washed it far +away.</p> + +<p>As he stood, with set teeth and folded arms, the merry jingle of +approaching sleigh-bells broke upon his startled ear. They were +evidently approaching the place where he stood. Moved by a sudden +impulse of terror, he turned and fled from the spot.</p> + +<p>Guilt is ever cowardly. He sped on, scarcely knowing whither he went, +until in his blind haste he ran against a watchman.</p> + +<p>The unexpected shock sent both rolling over in the snow, which +considerably cooled the fever in Doctor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> Wiseman's blood. The indignant +"guardian of night," with an exclamation which wouldn't look well in +print, laid hold of the doctor's collar. But there was vigor in Doctor +Wiseman's dwarfed body, and strength in his long, lean arms; and with a +violent effort he wrenched himself free from the policeman's tenacious +grasp, and fled.</p> + +<p>"Charley" started in pursuit, and seeing he would soon be overtaken, the +doctor suddenly darted into the high, dark portico of an +imposing-looking house, and soon had the satisfaction of beholding the +angry watchman tear past like a comet, in full pursuit.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>THE ASTROLOGER.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He fed on poisons, and they had no power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But were a kind of nutriment; he lived<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through that which had been death to many men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him the book of night was opened wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And voices from the deep abyss revealed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A marvel and a secret."—<span class="smcap">Byron.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_h.png" alt="H" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +aving assured himself that all danger was past, Doctor Wiseman was +about to start from the building, when a sudden moonbeam fell on the +polished door-plate, and he started back to see the name it revealed.</p></div> + +<p>"The astrologer, Ali Hamed!" he exclaimed. "Now what foul fiend has +driven me to his accursed den to-night? 'Tis said he can read the +future; and surely no man ever needed to know it more than I. Can it be +that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> the hand of destiny has driven me here, to show me what is yet to +come. Well, it is useless going home or attempting to sleep to-night; +so, Ali Hamed, I shall try what your magical black art can do for me."</p> + +<p>He rang the bell sharply, but moment after moment passed, and no one +came. Losing all patience, he again rang a deafening peal, which echoed +and re-echoed through the house.</p> + +<p>Presently the sound of footsteps clattering down stairs struck his ear, +and in a moment more the door was cautiously opened, and a dark, swarthy +face protruded through the opening. Seeing but one, he stood aside to +allow him to enter, and then securely locked and bolted the door.</p> + +<p>"The astrologer, Ali Hamed, resides here?" said the doctor.</p> + +<p>Accustomed to visitors at all hours of the day and night, the man +betrayed no surprise at the unreasonable time he had taken to inquire, +but answered quietly in the affirmative.</p> + +<p>"Can I see him?"</p> + +<p>"I think so; step in here one moment, and I will see."</p> + +<p>He ushered Dr. Wiseman into a small and plainly furnished parlor, while +he again went up stairs. In a few moments he reappeared, and, bidding +his visitor follow him, led the way up the long staircase through a +spacious suite of apartments, and finally into a long, dark room, where +the astrologer usually received visitors.</p> + +<p>The doctor glanced around with intense curiosity, not unmingled with +awe. The floor was painted black, and the walls were hung with dark +tapestry, covered with all manner of cabalistic figures. Skulls, +crucibles, magic mirrors, tame serpents, vipers, and all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> manner of +hideous things were scattered profusely around.</p> + +<p>While the doctor still stood contemplating the strange things around +him, the door opened and the astrologer himself entered. He was an +imposing-looking personage, tall and majestic, with grave, Asiatic +features, and arrayed with Eastern magnificence. He bent his head with +grave dignity in return to the doctor's profound bow, and stood for a +few moments silently regarding him.</p> + +<p>"You would know the future?" said the astrologer, at length, in his +slow, impressive voice.</p> + +<p>"Such is my business here to-night."</p> + +<p>"You would have your horoscope cast, probably?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then give me the day and hour of your birth, and return to-morrow +morning."</p> + +<p>"No, I cannot wait until then; I must know all to-night."</p> + +<p>The astrologer bowed, and after many tedious preliminaries, directed the +doctor to quit the room until he should send for him. Dr. Wiseman then +entered one of the long suite of apartments through which he had passed, +and seated himself in a state of feverish anxiety to hear the result. +Some time elapsed ere the swarthy individual who had admitted him +presented himself at the door and announced that the astrologer was +ready to receive him.</p> + +<p>Dr. Wiseman found Ali Hamed standing beside a smoking caldron, with his +cross-bones, and lizards, and mystic figures around him, awaiting his +entrance.</p> + +<p>Not much given to credulity, the doctor determined to test his skill +before placing implicit belief in his predictions; and therefore, +bluntly announcing his skepticism, he demanded to know something of the +past.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are a widower, with one child," said the astrologer, calmly.</p> + +<p>The doctor bowed assent.</p> + +<p>"You are not rich, but avaricious; there is nothing you would not do for +money. You are liked by none; by nature you are treacherous, cunning, +and unscrupulous; your hands are dyed, and your heart is black with +crime; you——"</p> + +<p>"Enough!" interrupted the doctor, turning as pale as his saffron visage +would permit; "no more of the past. What has the future in store for +me?"</p> + +<p>"A life of disgrace, and death <i>on the scaffold</i>!"</p> + +<p>A suppressed cry of horror burst from the white lips of the doctor, who +reeled as if struck by some sudden blow.</p> + +<p>"To-night," continued the astrologer, unheeding the interruption, "<i>a +child has been born whose destiny shall be united with yours through +life; some strange, mystic tie will bind you together for a time. But +the hand of this child will yet bring your head to the halter.</i>"</p> + +<p>He paused. Dr. Wiseman stood stiff, rooted to the ground with horror.</p> + +<p>"Such is your future; you may go," said the Egyptian, waving his hand.</p> + +<p>With his blood freezing in his veins, with hands trembling and lips +palsied with horror, he quitted the house. An hour had scarcely passed +since his entrance; but that hour seemed to have added ten years to his +age. He felt not the cold, keen air as he slowly moved along, every +sense paralyzed by the appalling prediction he had just heard.</p> + +<p>"Die on the scaffold!" His crime deserved it. But the bare thought made +his blood run cold. And through a child born that night he was to +perish! Was it the child of Esther Oranmore? Oh, absurd! it had been +swept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> far away by the waves long ere this. Whose, then, could it be? +There were more children born this Christmas Eve than that one; but how +could any one ever know what he had done? No one knew of it but Mrs. +Oranmore; and he well knew she would never tell.</p> + +<p>He plunged blindly onward through the heaps of drifted snow, heeding +not, caring not, whither his steps wended. Once or twice he met a +watchman going his rounds, and he shrank away like the guilty thing that +he was, dreading lest the word "<i>murder</i>" should be stamped on his brow. +He thought with cowardly terror of the coming day, when every eye, he +fancied, would turn upon him with a look of suspicion.</p> + +<p>Involuntarily he wandered to the sea-shore, and stood on the bank where +he had been one hour before. The waves were dashing now almost to his +feet; no trace of any living thing was to be seen around.</p> + +<p>"It <i>has</i> perished, then!" he exclaimed, with a feeling of intense +relief. "I knew it! I knew it! <i>It</i>, then, is not the child which is to +cause my death. But, pshaw! why do I credit all that <i>soi-disant</i> +prophet told me! Yet he spoke so truly of the past, I cannot avoid +believing him. Perish on the scaffold! Heavens! if I felt sure of it, I +would go mad. Ha! what is that? Can it be the ghastly white face of a +child?"</p> + +<p>He leaned over and bent down to see, but nothing met his eye save the +white caps of the waves.</p> + +<p>"Fool that I am!" he exclaimed, turning away impatiently. "Well might +stony Madam Oranmore deem me a coward did she see me now. I will hasten +back to her, and report the success of my mission."</p> + +<p>He turned away, and strode in the direction of her house as fast as he +could walk over the frozen ground, quite unconscious of what was at that +same moment passing in another quarter of the city on that same eventful +night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>BARRY ORANMORE.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock34"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">——"Pray for the dead—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why for the dead, who are at rest?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray for the living, in whose breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The struggle between right and wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is raging, terrible and strong."—<span class="smcap">Longfellow.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_i.png" alt="I" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +t was a luxuriously furnished apartment. A thick, soft carpet, where +blue violets peeped from glowing green leaves so naturally that one +involuntarily stooped to cull them, covered the floor. Rare old +paintings adorned the wall, and the cornices were fretted with gold. The +heavy crimson curtains shut out the sound of the wintry wind, and a +glowing coal fire shed a living, radiant glow over everything around. +The air was redolent of intoxicating perfume, breathing of summer and +sunshine. On the marble-topped center-table stood bottles and glasses, a +cigar-case, a smoking-cap, and a pair of elegant, silver-mounted +pistols. It was evidently a gentleman's room, judging by the disorder. A +beautiful marble Flora stood in one corner, arrayed in a gaudy +dressing-gown, and opposite stood a dainty little Peri adorned with a +beaver hat. Jupiter himself was there, with a violin suspended +gracefully around his neck, and Cupid was leaning against the wall, +heels uppermost, with bent bow, evidently taking deliberate aim at the +flies on the ceiling.</p></div> + +<p>Among the many exquisite paintings hanging on the wall, there was one of +surpassing beauty; it represented a bleak hill-side, with a flock of +sheep grazing on the scanty herbage, a lowering, troubled sky above; and +one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> could almost see the fitful gusts of wind sighing over the gray +hill-tops. Standing erect was a young girl—a mere child in years—her +long golden hair streaming wildly in the breeze, her straw hat swinging +in her hand, her fair, bright face and large blue eyes raised with +mingled shyness and sauciness to a horseman bending over her, as if +speaking. His fiery steed seemed pawing with impatience; but his rider +held him with a firm hand. He was a tall, slight youth, with raven black +hair and eyes, and a dark, handsome face. There was a wild look about +the dark horseman and darker steed, reminding one of the Black Horseman +of the Hartz Mountains. Underneath was written, in a dashing masculine +hand, "The first meeting." There was something strikingly, vividly +life-like in the whole scene; even the characters—the slender girl, +with her pretty, piquant face, and the handsome, graceful rider—were +more like living beings than creations of fancy.</p> + +<p>And—yes, standing by the fire, his arm resting on the mantel, his eyes +fixed on the hearth, stood the original of the picture. The same tall, +superb form; the same clear olive complexion; the same curling locks of +jet, and black eyes of fire; the same firm, proud mouth, shaded by a +thick black mustache—there he stood, his eyes riveted on the glowing +coals, his brow knit as though in deep and painful thought. Now and then +the muscles of his face would twitch, and his white hands involuntarily +clench at some passing thought.</p> + +<p>At intervals the noise of doors shutting and opening would reach his +ear, and he would start as though he had received a galvanic shock, and +listen for a moment intently. Nothing could be heard but the crackling +of the fire at such times, and again he would relapse into gloomy +musing.</p> + +<p>"What a fool I have been!" he exclaimed, at length<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> between his clenched +teeth, as he shook back with fierce impatience his glossy hair, "to +burden myself with this girl! Dolt, idiot that I was, to allow myself to +be bewitched by her blue eyes and yellow hair! What demon could have +possessed me to make her my wife? My wife! Just fancy me presenting that +little blushing, shrinking Galway girl as my wife to my lady mother, or +to that princess of coquettes, Lizzie Erliston! I wish to heaven I had +blown my brains out instead of putting my head into such a confounded +noose—making myself the laughing-stock of all my gallant friends and +lady acquaintances! No, by heaven! they shall never laugh at Barry +Oranmore. Eveleen shall be sent back to her friends. They will be glad +enough to get her on any terms; and she will soon forget me, and be +happy tending her sheep once more. And yet—and yet—poor Eveleen!" he +said, suddenly, pausing before the picture, while his dark eyes filled +with a softer light, and his voice assumed a gentler tone; "she loves me +so well yet—far more than I do her. I hardly like the thought of +sending her away; but it cannot be helped. My mother's purse is running +low, I fear; Erliston's coffers must replenish it. Yes, there is no help +for it; Eveleen must go, and I must marry little Lizzie. Poor child; she +left home, and friends, and all for me; and it <i>does</i> seem a villainous +act in me to desert her for another. But go she must; there is no +alternative."</p> + +<p>He was walking up and down in his intense excitement—sometimes pausing +suddenly for a few moments, and then walking on faster than before. Thus +half an hour passed, during which he seemed to have formed some +determination; for his mouth grew stern, and his clear eyes cold and +calm, as he once more leaned against the mantel, and fell into thought.</p> + +<p>Presently the door opened and a woman entered. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> was a stout, +corpulent person, with coarse, bloated face, and small, bleared eyes. As +she entered, she cast an affectionate glance toward the brandy bottle on +the table—a glance which said plainly she would have no objection to +trying its quality. She was arrayed for the street, with a large cloak +enveloping her ample person, and a warm quilted hood tied over her +substantial double chin.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I'll be movin', I reckon," said the woman, adjusting her +cloak. "The young lady's doing very nicely, and the baby's sleeping like +an angel. So they'll get along very well to-night without me."</p> + +<p>The young man started at the sound of her voice, and, looking up, said +carelessly:</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's you, is it? Are you for leaving?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; it's time I was home and to bed. I ain't used to bein' up +late nights now—don't agree with my constitution; it's sorter delicate. +Shouldn't wonder if I was fallin' into a decline."</p> + +<p>The quizzical dark eyes of the young man surveyed the rotund person +before him, and in spite of himself he burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, if you was in a decline yourself, you'd laugh t'other side +of your mouth, I reckon," said the offended matron. "S'pose you think +it's very funny laughing at a poor, lone 'oman, without chick nor child. +But I can tell you——"</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand pardons, madam, for my offense," he interrupted, +courteously, though there was still a wicked twinkle in his eye. "Pray +sit down for a moment; I have something to say to you."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, it don't seem exactly right to sit here with you at this +hour of the night. Howsomever, I will, to oblige you," and the worthy +dame placed her ample frame in a cushioned elbow-chair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps this argument may aid in overcoming your scruples," said the +young man, filling her a glass of wine, and throwing himself on a +lounge; "and now to business. You are a widow?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. My blessed husband died a martyr to his country—died in the +discharge of his duty. He was a custom-house officer, and felt it his +duty always to examine liquors before destroying them. Well, one day he +took too much, caught the devil-rum tremendous, and left me a +disconsolate widder. The coroner of the jury set onto him, and——"</p> + +<p>"There, there! never mind particulars. You have no children?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the old woman stiffly, rather offended by his unceremonious +interruption.</p> + +<p>"If you were well paid, you would have no objection to taking one and +bringing it up as your own?" said the young man, speaking quietly, +though there was a look of restless anxiety in his fine eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, no; I'd have no objection, if——" and here she slapped her +pocket expressively, by way of finishing the sentence.</p> + +<p>"Money shall be no object; but remember, the world must think it is your +own—<i>I</i> am never to be troubled about it more."</p> + +<p>"All right—I understand," said the nurse, nodding her head sagely. +"S'pose it's the little one in there?"</p> + +<p>"It is. Can you take it away now?"</p> + +<p>"To-night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"But laws! ain't it too cold and stormy. Better wait till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"No," was the quick and peremptory answer. "To-night, now, within this +very hour, it must be removed; and I am never to hear of it more."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And the poor young lady? Seems sorter hard, now don't it? she'll take +on wonderfully, I'm feared."</p> + +<p>A spasm of pain passed over his handsome face, and for a moment he was +silent. Then, looking up, he said, with brief sternness:</p> + +<p>"It cannot be helped. You must go without disturbing her, and I will +break the news to her myself. Here is my purse for the present. What is +your address?"</p> + +<p>The woman gave it.</p> + +<p>"Very well, you shall hear from me regularly; but should we ever meet +again, in the street or elsewhere, you are not to know me, and you must +forget all that has transpired to-night."</p> + +<p>"Hum!" said the fat widow, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"And now you had better depart. The storm has almost ceased, and the +night is passing away. Is Ev—is my wife awake?"</p> + +<p>"No; I left her sleeping."</p> + +<p>"So much the better. You can take <i>it</i> with you without disturbing her. +Go."</p> + +<p>The buxom widow arose and quitted the room. Oranmore lay on a lounge, +rigidly motionless, his face hidden by his hand. A fierce storm was +raging in his breast—"the struggle between right and wrong." Pride and +ambition struggled with love and remorse, but the fear of the world +conquered: and when the old woman re-entered, bearing a sleeping infant +in her arms, he looked up as composedly as herself.</p> + +<p>"Pretty little dear," said the widow, wrapping the child in a thick +woolen shawl, "how nicely she sleeps! Very image of her mother, and +she's the beautifulest girl I ever saw in my life. I gave her some +paregoric to make her sleep till I go home. Well, good-night, sir. Our +business is over."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, good-night. Remember the secret; forget what has transpired +to-night, and your fortune is made. You will care for <i>it</i>"—and he +pointed to the child—"as though it were your own."</p> + +<p>"Be sure I will, dear little duck. Who could help liking such a sweet, +pretty darling? I s'pose you'll come to see it sometimes, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No. You can send me word of its welfare now and then. Go, madam, go."</p> + +<p>The widow turned to leave the room, and, unobserved by the young man, +who had once more thrown himself on his face on the sofa, she seized a +well-filled brandy-flask and concealed it beneath her shawl.</p> + +<p>Quitting the house, she walked as rapidly as her bulksome proportions +would permit over the snowy ground. The road leading to her home lay in +the direction of the sea-shore; and, as she reached the beach, she was +thoroughly chilled by the cold, in spite of her warm wrappings.</p> + +<p>"It's as cold as the Arctic Ocean, and I've heerd say that's the coldest +country in the world. A drop of comfort won't come amiss just now. Lucky +I thought on't. This little monkey's as sound as a top. It's my 'pinion +that young gent's no better than he ought to be, to treat such a lovely +young lady in this fashion. Well, it's no business of mine, so's I'm +well paid. Lor! I hope I hain't gin it too much paregoric; wouldn't for +anything 'twould die. S'pose I'd get no more tin then. That's prime," +she added, placing the flask to her lips and draining a long draught.</p> + +<p>As the powerful fumes of the brandy arose to her head, the worthy lady's +senses became rather confused; and, falling rather than sitting on the +bank, the child, muffled like a mummy in its plaid, rolled from her arms +into a snow-wreath. At the same moment the loud ring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>ing of bells and +the cry of "Fire! fire!" fell upon her ear. It roused her; and, in the +excitement of the moment forgetting her little charge, she sprang up as +well as she could, and, by a strange fascination, was soon involuntarily +drawn away to mingle with the crowd, who were hurrying in the direction +of her abode.</p> + +<p>Scarcely five minutes before, Dr. Wiseman had quitted that very spot: +and there, within a few yards of each other, the two unconscious infants +lay, little knowing how singularly their future lives were to be +united—little dreaming how fatal an influence <i>one</i> of them was yet to +wield over <i>him</i>.</p> + +<p>Some time after, when the flames were extinguished and the crowd had +quitted the streets for their beds—when the unbroken silence of coming +morning had fallen over the city—the widow returned to seek for her +child.</p> + +<p>But she sought in vain; the rising tide had swept over the bank, and was +again retreating sullenly to the sea.</p> + +<p>Sobered by terror and remorse, the wretched woman trod up and down the +dreary, deserted snowy beach until morning broke; but she sought and +searched in vain. The child was gone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>MOUNT SUNSET HALL.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A jolly place, 'twas said, in days of old."</span> +<p style="margin-left: 65%;"><span class="smcap">Wordsworth.</span></p> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_t.png" alt="T" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +he jingle of the approaching sleigh-bells, which had frightened Dr. +Wiseman from the beach, had been unheard by the drunken nurse; but ten +minutes after she had left, a sleigh came slowly along the narrow, +slippery path.</p></div> + +<p>It contained but two persons. One was an elderly woman, wrapped and +muffled in furs. A round, rosy, cheery face beamed out from a black +velvet bonnet, and two small, twinkling, merry gray eyes, lit up the +pleasantest countenance in the world.</p> + +<p>Her companion, who sat in the driver's seat, was a tall, jolly-looking +darkey, with a pair of huge, rolling eyes, looking like a couple of +snow-drifts in a black ground. A towering fur cap ornamented the place +where the "wool ought to grow," and was the only portion of this son of +darkness which could be discovered for his voluminous wrappings.</p> + +<p>The path was wet, slippery, and dangerous in the extreme. The horses +were restive, and a single false step would have overturned them into +the water.</p> + +<p>"Missus Scour, if you please, missus, you'd better git out," said the +negro, reining in the horses, in evident alarm; "this yer's the wussest +road I'se ever trabeled. These wishious brutes 'll spill me and you, and +the sleigh, and then the Lor only knows what'll ever become of us."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you think there's any danger, Jupiter?" said Mrs. Gower (for such +was the name her sable attendant had transformed into <i>Scour</i>), in a +voice of alarm.</p> + +<p>"This road's sort o' 'spicious anyhow," replied Jupiter. "I'd 'vise you, +Missus Scour, mum, to get out and walk till we is past this yer beach. +'Sides the snow, this yer funnelly beach is full o' holes, an' if we got +upsot inter one of 'em, ole marse might whistle for you and me, and the +sleigh arter that!"</p> + +<p>With much difficulty, and with any amount of whoaing, Jupiter managed to +stop the sleigh, and assisted stout Mrs. Gower to alight. This was no +easy job, for that worthy lady was rather unwieldy, and panted like a +stranded porpoise, as she slowly plunged through the wet snow-drifts.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, above the jingling sleigh-bells, the wail of an infant met her +ear. She paused in amazement, and looked around. Again she heard +it—this time seemingly at her feet. She looked down and beheld a small, +dark bundle, lying amid the deep snow.</p> + +<p>Once more the piteous cry met her ear, and stooping down, she raised the +little dark object in her arms.</p> + +<p>Unfolding the shawl, she beheld the infant whose cries had first +arrested her ear.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens! a baby exposed to this weather—left here to perish!" +exclaimed good Mrs. Gower, in horror. "Poor little thing, it's half +frozen. Who could have done so unnatural a deed?"</p> + +<p>"Laws! Missus Scour, what ye got dar?" inquired Jupiter.</p> + +<p>"A baby, Jupe! A poor little helpless infant whom some unnatural wretch +has left here to die!" exclaimed Mrs. Gower, with more indignation than +she had ever before felt in her life.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good Lor! so 'tis! What you gwine to do wid it, Missus Scour, mum?"</p> + +<p>"Do with it?" said Mrs. Gower, looking at him in surprise. "Why, take it +with me, of course. You wouldn't have me leave the poor infant here to +perish, would you?"</p> + +<p>"'Deed, Missus Scour, I wouldn't bring it 'long ef I was you. Jes' +'flect how tarin' mad ole marse 'll be 'bout it. Don't never want to see +no babies roun'. Deed, honey, you'd better take my 'vice an' leave it +whar it was," said Jupiter.</p> + +<p>"What? Leave it here to die. I'm ashamed of you, Jupiter," said the old +lady, rebukingly.</p> + +<p>"But Lor! Missus Scour! ole marse 'll trow it out de winder fust thing. +Shouldn't be s'prised, nudder, ef he'd wollop me for bringing it. Jes' +'flect upon it, Missus Scour, nobody can't put no 'pendence onto him, de +forsooken ole sinner. Trowed his 'fernal ole stick at me, t'other day, +and like to knock my brains out, jes' for nothin' at all. 'Deed, honey, +I wouldn't try sich a 'sperriment, no how."</p> + +<p>"Now, Jupiter, you needn't say another word. My mind's made up, and I'm +going to keep this child, let 'ole marse' rage as he will. I'm just as +sure as I can be, that the Lord sent it to me, to-night, as a Christmas +gift, in place of my poor, dear Aurora, that he took to heaven," said +good Mrs. Gower, folding the wailing infant closer still to her warm, +motherly bosom.</p> + +<p>"Sartin, missus, in course you knows best, but ef you'd only 'flect. +'Pears to me, ole marse 'll tar roun worser dan ever, when he sees it, +and discharge you in you 'sponsible ole age o' life 'count of it."</p> + +<p>"And if he <i>does</i> discharge me, Jupiter, after twenty years' service, I +have enough to support myself and this little one to the end of my life, +thank the Lord!" said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> Mrs. Gower, her honest, ruddy face all aglow with +generous enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Well, I s'pose 'taint no sorter use talking," said Jupiter, with a +sigh, as he gathered up the reins; "but ef anything happens, jes 'member +I 'vised you of it 'forehand. Here we is on de road now, so you'd better +get in ef you's agoin' to take de little 'un wid you."</p> + +<p>With considerable squeezing, and much panting, and some groaning, good +Mrs. Gower was assisted into the sleigh, and muffled up in the buffalo +robes.</p> + +<p>Wrapping the child in her warm, fur-lined mantle, to protect it from the +chill night air, they sped merrily along over the hard, frozen ground.</p> + +<p>Christmas morning dawned bright, sunshiny, and warm. The occupants of +the sleigh had long since left the city behind them, and were now +driving along the more open country. The keen, frosty air deepened the +rosy glow on Mrs. Gower's good-humored face. Warmly protected from the +cold, the baby lay sleeping sweetly in her arms, and even Jupiter's +sable face relaxed into a grin as he whistled "Coal Black Rose."</p> + +<p>The sun was about three hours high when they drew up before a solitary +inn. And here Jupiter assisted Mrs. Gower into the house, while he +himself looked after his horses.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gower was shown by the hostess into the parlor, where a huge +wood-fire roared up the wide chimney. Removing the large shawl that +enveloped it, Mrs. Gower turned for the first time to examine her prize.</p> + +<p>It did not differ much from other babies, save in being the tiniest +little creature that ever was seen; with small, pretty features, and an +unusual profusion of brown hair. As it awoke, it disclosed a pair of +large blue eyes—rather vacant-looking, it must be confessed—and +immediately set up a most vigorous squealing. Small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> as it was, it +evidently possessed lungs that would not have disgraced a newsboy, and +seemed bent upon fully exercising them; for in spite of Mrs. Gower's +cooing and kissing, it cried and screamed "and would not be comforted."</p> + +<p>"Poor little dear, it's so hungry," said the good old lady, rocking it +gently. "What a pretty little darling it is. I'm <i>sure</i> it looks like +little Aurora!"</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with baby?" inquired the hostess, at this moment +entering.</p> + +<p>"It's hungry, poor thing. Bring in some warm milk, please," replied Mrs. +Gower.</p> + +<p>The milk was brought, and baby, like a sensible child, as it doubtless +was, did ample justice to it. Then rolling it up in the shawl, Mrs. +Gower placed it in the rocking-chair, and left it to its own +reflections, while she sat down to a comfortable breakfast of fragrant +coffee, hot rolls, and fried ham.</p> + +<p>When breakfast was over Jupiter brought round the horses and sleigh, and +Mrs. Gower entered, holding her prize, and they drove off.</p> + +<p>It was noon when they reached the end of their long journey, and entered +the little village of St. Mark's. Sloping upward from the bay on one +side, and encircled by a dense primeval forest on the other, the village +stood. St. Mark's was a great place in the eyes of its inhabitants, and +considered by them the only spot on the globe fit for rational beings to +live in. It was rather an unpretending-looking place, though, to +strangers, who sometimes came from the city to spend the hot summer +months there, in preference to any fashionable watering-place. It +contained a church, a school-house, a lecture-room, a post-office, and +an inn.</p> + +<p>But the principal building, and pride of the village, was Mount Sunset +Hall. It stood upon a sloping emi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>nence, which the villagers dignified +with the title of hill, but which in reality was no such thing. The hall +itself was a large, quaint, old mansion of gray stone, built in the +Elizabethan style, with high turrets, peaked gables, and long, high +windows. It was finely situated, commanding on one side a view of the +entire village and the bay, and on the other the dark pine forest and +far-spreading hills beyond. A carriage-path wound up toward the front, +through an avenue of magnificent horse chestnuts, now bare and leafless. +A wide porch, on which the sun seemed always shining, led into a long, +high hall, flanked on each side by doors, opening into the separate +apartments. A wide staircase of dark polished oak led to the upper +chambers of the old mansion.</p> + +<p>The owner of Sunset Hall was Squire Erliston, the one great man of the +village, the supreme autocrat of St. Mark's. The squire was a rough, +gruff, choleric old bear, before whom children and poultry and other +inferior animals quaked in terror. He had been once given to high living +and riotous excesses, and Sunset Hall had then been a place of +drunkenness and debauchery. But these excesses at last brought on a +dangerous disease, and for a long time his life was despaired of; then +the squire awoke to a sense of his situation, took a "pious streak"—as +he called it himself—and registered a vow, that if it pleased +Providence not to deprive the world in general, and St. Marks in +particular, of so valuable an ornament as himself, he would eschew all +his evil deeds and meditate seriously on his latter end. Whether his +prayer was heard or not I cannot undertake to say; but certain it is the +squire recovered; and, casting over in his mind the ways and means by +which he could best do penance for his past sins, he resolved to go +through a course of Solomon's Proverbs, and—get married. Deeming it +best to make the greatest sacrifice first, he got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> married; and, after +the honeymoon was past, surprised his wife one day by taking down the +huge family Bible left him by his father, and reading the first chapter. +This he continued for a week—yawning fearfully all the time; but after +that he resolved to make his wife read them aloud to him, and thereby +save him the trouble.</p> + +<p>"For," said the squire sagely, "what's the use of having a wife if she +can't make herself useful. 'A good wife's a crown to her husband,' as +Solomon says."</p> + +<p>So Mrs. Erliston was commanded each morning to read one of the chapters +by way of morning prayers. The squire would stretch himself on a lounge, +light a cigar, lay his head on her lap, and prepare to listen. But +before the conclusion of the third verse Squire Erliston and his good +resolutions would be as sound as one of the Seven Sleepers.</p> + +<p>When his meek little wife would hint at this, her worthy liege lord +would fly into a passion, and indignantly deny the assertion. <i>He</i> +asleep, indeed! Preposterous!—he had heard every word! And, in proof of +it, he vociferated every text he could remember, and insisted upon +making Solomon the author of them all. This habit he had retained +through life—often to the great amusement of his friends—setting the +most absurd phrases down to the charge of the Wise Monarch. His wife +died, leaving him with two daughters; the fate of the eldest, Esther, is +already known to the reader.</p> + +<p>Up the carriage-road, in front, the sleigh containing our travelers +drove. Good Mrs. Gower—who for many years had been Squire Erliston's +housekeeper—alighted, and, passing through the long hall, entered a +cheerful-looking apartment known as the "housekeeper's room."</p> + +<p>Seating herself in an elbow-chair to recover her breath, Mrs. Gower laid +the baby in her bed, and rang<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> the bell. The summons was answered by a +tidy little darkey, who rushed in all of a flutter.</p> + +<p>"Laws! Missus Scour, I's 'stonished, I is! Whar's de young 'un! Jupe say +you fotch one from the city."</p> + +<p>"So I did; there it is on the bed."</p> + +<p>"Sakes alive, ain't it a mite of a critter! Gemini! what'll old marse +say? Can't abide babies no how! 'spect he neber was a baby hisself!"</p> + +<p>"Totty, you mustn't speak that way of your master. Remember, it's not +respectful," said Mrs. Gower, rebukingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll 'member of it—'specially when I's near him, and he's got a +stick in his hand," said Totty, turning again to the baby, and eying it +as one might some natural curiosity. "Good Lor! ain't it a funny little +critter? What's its name, Miss Scour?"</p> + +<p>"I intend calling it Aurora, after my poor little daughter," replied +Mrs. Gower, tears filling her eyes.</p> + +<p>"<i>Roarer!</i> Laws! ain't it funny? Heigh! dar's de bell. 'Spect it's for +me," said Totty, running off.</p> + +<p>In a few moments she reappeared; and, shoving her curly head and ebony +phiz through the door, announced, in pompous tones, "dat marse wanted de +honor ob a few moments' private specification wid Missus Scour in de +parlor."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Totty; stay in here and mind the baby until I come back," +said Mrs. Gower, rising to obey.</p> + +<p>Totty, nothing loth, seated herself by the bed and resumed the scrutiny +of the baby. Whether that young lady remarked the impertinent stare of +the darkey or not, it would be hard to say; for, having bent her whole +heart and soul on the desperate and rather cannibal-like task of +devouring her own little fists, she treated Totty with silent contempt.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Mrs. Gower, with a look of firm deter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>mination, but with a +heart which, it must be owned, throbbed faster than usual, approached +the room wherein sat the lord and master of Sunset Hall. A gruff voice +shouted: "Come in!" in reply to her "tapping at the chamber-door;" and +good Mrs. Gower, in fear and trembling, entered the awful presence.</p> + +<p>In a large easy-chair in the middle of the floor—his feet supported by +a high ottoman—reclined Squire Erliston. He was evidently about fifty +years of age, below the middle size, stout and squarely built, and of +ponderous proportions. His countenance was fat, purple, and bloated, as +if from high living and strong drink; and his short, thick, bull-like +neck could not fail to bring before the mind of the beholder most +unpleasant ideas of apoplexy. His little, round, popping eyes seemed in +danger of starting from their sockets; while the firm compression of his +square mouth betokened an unusual degree of obstinacy.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Mrs. Gower. Fine day, this! Got home, I see. Shut the +door!—shut the door!—draughts always bring on the gout; so beware of +'em. Don't run into danger, or you'll perish in it, as Solomon says. +There! sit down, sit down, sit down!"</p> + +<p>Repeating this request a very unnecessary number of times—for worthy +Mrs. Gower had immediately taken a seat on entering—Squire Erliston +adjusted his spectacles carefully on the bridge of his nose, and glanced +severely at his housekeeper over the top of them. That good lady sat +with her eyes fixed upon the carpet—her hands folded demurely in her +lap—the very personification of mingled dignity and good-nature.</p> + +<p>"Hem! madam," began the squire.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Gower, meekly.</p> + +<p>"Jupe tells me—that is, he told me—I mean, ma'am,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> the short and long +of it is, you've brought a baby home with you—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," replied the housekeeper.</p> + +<p>"And how dare you, ma'am—how <i>dare</i> you bring such a thing here?" +roared the squire, in a rage. "Don't you know I detest the whole +persuasion under twelve years of age? Yes, ma'am! you know it; and yet +you went and brought one here. 'The way of the transgressor is hard,' as +Solomon says; and I'll make it confoundedly hard for you if you don't +pitch the squalling brat this minute out of the window! D'ye hear that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Gower, quietly.</p> + +<p>"And why the deuce don't you go and do it, then—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Because, Squire Erliston, I am resolved to keep the child," said Mrs. +Gower, firmly.</p> + +<p>"What! <i>what!</i> <span class="smcap">WHAT!</span>" exclaimed the squire, speechless with mingled rage +and astonishment at the audacious reply.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," reiterated Mrs. Gower, resolutely. "I consider that child +sent to me by Heaven, and I cannot part with it."</p> + +<p>"Fudge! stuff! fiddlesticks! Sent to you by heaven, indeed! S'pose +heaven ever dropped a young one on the beach? Likely story!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I consider it the same thing. Some one left it on the beach, and +heaven destined me to save it."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! no such thing! 'twas that stupid rascal, Jupe, making you get +out. I'll horsewhip him within an inch of his life for it!" roared the +old man, in a passion.</p> + +<p>"I beg you will do no such thing, sir. It was no fault of Jupiter's. If +you insist on its quitting the house, there remains but one course for +me."</p> + +<p>"Confound it, ma'am! you'd make a saint swear, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> Solomon says. Pray +tell me what <i>is</i> that course you speak of?"</p> + +<p>"I must leave with it."</p> + +<p>"What?" exclaimed the squire, perfectly aghast with amazement.</p> + +<p>"I must leave with it!" repeated Mrs. Gower, rising from her seat, and +speaking quietly, but firmly.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, ma'am—sit down, sit down! Oh, Lord! let me catch my breath! +Leave with it! Just say that over again, will you? I don't think I heard +right."</p> + +<p>"Your ears have not deceived you, Squire Erliston. I repeat it, if that +child leaves, I leave, too!"</p> + +<p>You should have seen Squire Erliston then, as he sat bolt upright, his +little round eyes ready to pop from their sockets with consternation, +staring at good Mrs. Gower much like a huge turkey gobbler. That good +lady stood complacently waiting, with her hand on the handle of the +door, for what was to come next.</p> + +<p>She had not to long wait; for such a storm of rage burst upon her +devoted head, that anybody else would have fled in dismay. But she, +"good, easy soul," was quite accustomed to that sort of thing, and stood +gazing upon him as serenely as a well-fed Biddy might on an enraged +barn-yard chanticleer. And still the storm of abuse raged, interspersed +with numerous quotations from Solomon—by way, doubtless, of impressing +her that his wrath was righteous. And still Mrs. Gower stood serene and +unruffled by his terrible denunciations, looking as placid as a mountain +lake sleeping in the sunlight.</p> + +<p>"Well, ma'am, well; what do you think of your conduct <i>now</i>?" exclaimed +the squire, when the violence of his rage was somewhat exhausted.</p> + +<p>"Just what I did before, sir."</p> + +<p>"And what was that, eh?—what was that?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That I have done right, sir; and that I will keep the child!"</p> + +<p>"<i>You will?</i>" thundered the squire, in an awful voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!" replied Mrs. Gower, slightly appalled by his terrible look, +but never flinching in her determination.</p> + +<p>"You—you—you—abominable—female, you!" stammered the squire, unable +to speak calmly, from rage. Then he added: "Well, well! I won't get +excited—no, ma'am. You can keep the brat, ma'am! But mind you, if it +ever comes across me, I'll wring its neck for it as I would a +chicken's!"</p> + +<p>"Then I <i>may</i> keep the little darling?" said good Mrs. Gower, +gratefully. "I am sure I am much obliged, and——"</p> + +<p>"There! there! there! Hold your tongue, ma'am! Don't let me hear another +word about it—the pest! the plague! Be off with you now, and send up +dinner. Let the turkey be overdone, or the pudding burned, at your +peril! 'Better a stalled ox with quietness, than a dry morsel,' as +Solomon says. Hurry up there, and ring for Lizzie!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gower hastened from the room, chuckling at having got over the +difficulty so easily. And from that day forth, little Aurora, as her +kind benefactress called her, was domesticated at Mount Sunset Hall.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>LIZZIE'S LOVER.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock30"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Fond girl! no saint nor angel he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who wooes thy young simplicity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But one of earth's impassioned sons,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As warm in love, as fierce in ire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the best heart whose current runs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full of the day-god's living fire."</span> +</div></div></div> +<p style="margin-left: 55%;"><span class="smcap">Fire Worshipers.</span></p> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_t.png" alt="T" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +he inn of St. Mark's was an old, brown, wooden house, with huge, +unpainted shutters, and great oak doors, that in summer lay always +invitingly open. It stood in the center of the village, with the forest +stretching away behind, and the beach spreading out in front. Over the +door swung a huge signboard, on which some rustic artist had endeavored +to paint an eagle, but which, unfortunately, more closely resembled a +frightened goose.</p></div> + +<p>Within the "Eagle," as it was generally called, everything was +spotlessly neat and clean; for the landlord's pretty daughter was the +tidiest of housewives. The huge, oaken door in front, directly under the +above-mentioned signboard, opened into the bar-room, behind the counter +of which the worthy host sat, in his huge leathern chair, from "early +morn till dewy eve." Another door, at the farther end, opened into the +"big parlor," the pine floor of which was scrubbed as white as human +hands could make it; and the two high, square windows at either end +absolutely glittered with cleanliness. The wooden chairs were polished +till they shone, and never blazed a fire on a cleaner swept hearth than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +that which now roared up the wide fire-place of the "Eagle."</p> + +<p>It was a gusty January night. The wind came raw and cold over the +distant hills, now rising fierce and high, and anon dying away in low, +moaning sighs among the shivering trees. On the beach the waves came +tramping inward, their dull, hollow voices booming like distant thunder +on the ear.</p> + +<p>But within the parlor of the "Eagle" the mirth and laughter were loud +and boisterous. Gathered around the blazing fire, drinking, smoking, +swearing, arguing, were fifteen or twenty men—drovers, farmers, +fishermen, and loafers.</p> + +<p>"This yer's what <i>I</i> calls comfortable," said a lusty drover, as he +raised a foaming mug of ale to his lips and drained it to the last drop.</p> + +<p>"I swan to man if it ain't a rouser of a night," said a rather +good-looking young fellow, dressed in the coarse garb of a fisherman, as +a sudden gust of wind and hail came driving against the windows.</p> + +<p>"Better here than out on the bay to-night, eh, Jim?" said the drover, +turning to the last speaker.</p> + +<p>"Them's my sentiments," was the reply, as Jim filled his pipe.</p> + +<p>"I reckon Jim hain't no objection to stayin' anywhere where Cassie is," +remarked another, dryly.</p> + +<p>"Who's taking my name in vain here?" called a clear, ringing voice, as a +young girl, of some eighteen years of age, entered. Below the middle +size, plump and round, with merry, black eyes, a complexion decidedly +brown, full, red lips, overflowing with fun and good-nature—such was +Cassie Fox, the pretty little hostess of the "Eagle."</p> + +<p>Before any one could reply, an unusual noise in the bar-room fell upon +their ears. The next moment, Sally,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> the black maid-of-all-work, came +into the "big parlor," with mouth and eyes agape.</p> + +<p>"Laws, misses," she said, addressing Cassie, "dar's a gemman—a rale +big-bug—out'n de bar-room; a 'spectable, 'sponsible, 'greeable gemman, +powerful hansom, wid brack eyes an' har, an' a carpet-bag!"</p> + +<p>"Sakes alive!" ejaculated Cassie, dropping the tray, and turning to the +looking-glass; "he's handsome, and—<i>my hair's awfully mussed</i>! +Gracious! what brings him here, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"Got cotch in de storm; 'deed he did, chile—heard him tell marse so my +own blessed self."</p> + +<p>"Goodness!" again ejaculated the little hostess. "I'm all in a +flusterfication. Handsome! dear, dear!—my hair's all out of curl! Black +eyes!—I must unpin my dress. Nice hair! Jim Loker, take your legs out +of the fire, nobody wants you to make andirons of 'em."</p> + +<p>"Cass! Cass, I say! Come here, you Cass!" called the voice of mine host +from the bar-room.</p> + +<p>Cassie bustled out of the room and entered the bar. Old Giles Fox stood +respectfully before the stranger, a young man wrapped in a cloak, tall +and handsome, with a sort of dashing, reckless air, that well became +him.</p> + +<p>"Here, Cass," said her father, "this gentleman's going to stay all +night. Show him into the best room, and get supper ready. Be spry, now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Cassie, demurely, courtesying before the handsome +stranger, who glanced half carelessly, half admiringly, at her pretty +face. "This way, sir, if you please."</p> + +<p>The stranger followed her into the parlor, and encountered the battery +of a score of eyes fixed full upon him. He paused in the doorway and +glanced around.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon," he said, in the refined tone of a gentleman, "but I +thought this room was unoccupied. Can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> I not have a private apartment?" +he added, turning to Cassie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, to be sure," replied the little hostess; "step this way, sir," +and Cassie ran up-stairs, followed by the new-comer, whose dark eyes had +already made a deep impression in the susceptible heart of Cassie.</p> + +<p>He threw himself into a chair before the fire and fixed his eyes +thoughtfully on the glowing coals. Cassie, having placed his dripping +cloak before the fire to dry, ran down stairs, where he could distinctly +hear her shrill voice giving hasty orders to the servants.</p> + +<p>Supper was at length brought in by Cassie, and the stranger fell to with +the readiness of one to whom a long journey has given an appetite.</p> + +<p>"There," he said at last, pushing back his chair. "I think I have done +justice to your cookery, my dear—Cassie—isn't that what they call +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; after Cassiopia, who was queen in furrin parts long ago. +Efiofia, I think, was the name of the place," said Cassie, complacently.</p> + +<p>"What?" said the stranger, repressing a laugh. "What do you say was the +name of the place?"</p> + +<p>"Efiofia!" repeated Cassie, with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Ethiopia! Oh, I understand! And who named you after that fair queen, +who now resides among the stars?"</p> + +<p>"Mother, of course, before she died," replied the namesake of that +Ethiopian queen. "She read about her in some book, and named me +accordingly."</p> + +<p>The stranger smiled, and fixed his eyes steadily on the complacent face +of Cassie, with an expression of mingled amusement and curiosity. There +was a moment's pause, and then he asked:</p> + +<p>"And what sort of place is St. Mark's—I mean, what sort of people are +there in it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, pretty nice," replied Cassie; "most all like those you saw down +stairs in the parlor."</p> + +<p>"But, I mean the gentry."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the big-bugs. Well, yes, there is some of 'em here. First, there's +the squire——"</p> + +<p>"Squire who?" interrupted the stranger, with a look of interest.</p> + +<p>"Squire Erliston, of course; he lives up there in a place called Mount +Sunset."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said the young man, inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," repeated Cassiopia, "with his daughter, Miss Lizzie."</p> + +<p>"Has he only one daughter?"</p> + +<p>"That's all, now. He had two; but Miss Esther ran off with a wild young +fellow, an' I've hearn tell as how they were both dead, poor things! So +powerful handsome as they were too—'specially him."</p> + +<p>"And Miss Lizzie?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Well, you see she ain't married—she's more sense. She's awful +pretty, too, though she ain't a mite like Miss Esther was. Laws, she +might have bin married dozens of times, I'm sure, if she'd have all the +gents who want her. She's only been home for two or three months; she +was off somewhere to boardin'-school to larn to play the pianner and +make picters and sich."</p> + +<p>"And the papa of these interesting damsels, what is he like?" inquired +the young man.</p> + +<p>"He?—sakes alive! Why, he's the ugliest-tempered, crossest, +hatefullest, disagreeablest old snapping-turtle ever you saw. He's as +cross as two sticks, and as savage as a bear with a sore head. My stars +and garters! I'd sooner run a mile out of my way than meet him in the +street."</p> + +<p>"Whew! pleasant, upon my word! Are all your country magnates as amiable +as Squire Erliston?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There ain't many more, 'cepting Doctor Nick Wiseman, and that queer old +witch, Miss Hagar."</p> + +<p>"Has he any grown-up daughters?" inquired the stranger, carelessly.</p> + +<p>Cassie paused, and regarded him with a peculiar look for an instant.</p> + +<p>"Ahem!" she said, after a pause. "No; he's a widderer, with only one +child, a daughter, 'bout nine months old, and a nevvy a year or so +older. No, there ain't no young ladies—I mean real ladies—in the +village, 'cept Miss Lizzie Erliston."</p> + +<p>He paid no attention to the meaning tone in which this was spoken, and +after lingering a few moments longer, Cassie took her leave, inwardly +wondering who the handsome and inquisitive stranger could be.</p> + +<p>"Praps this'll tell," said Cassie, as she lifted the stranger's +portmanteau, and examined it carefully for name and initials. "Here it +is, I declare!" she exclaimed, as her eyes fell on the letters "B. O.," +inscribed on the steel clasp. "B. O. I wonder what them stands for! 'B +O' <i>bo</i>. Shouldn't wonder if he was a beau. Sakes alive! what can his +name be and what can he want? Well, I ain't likely to tell anybody, +'cause I don't know myself. 'Has he got any grown-up darters?'" she +muttered, as the young man's question came again to her mind. "Maybe +he's a fortin' hunter. I've hern tell o' sich. Well, I hope Miss Lizzie +won't have anything to do with him if he is, and go throw herself away +on a graceless scamp like Miss Esther did. Well, I guess, if he goes +courtin' there, old Thunderclap will be in his wool, and—O, massy on +us!—if that Sally hain't let the fire go dead out, while I was talkin' +up-stairs with 'B. O.' Little black imp! won't I give it to her?"</p> + +<p>The morning after the storm dawned clear and cold. All traces of the +preceding night's tempest had passed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> away, and the sun shone forth +brightly in a sky of clear, cloudless blue.</p> + +<p>The handsome young stranger stood in the bar-room of the "Eagle," gazing +from the open door at the bay, sparkling and flashing in the sun's +light, and dotted all over with fishing-boats. Behind the counter sat +worthy Giles Fox, smoking his pipe placidly. From the interior of the +building came at intervals the voice of Cassie, scolding right and left +at "You Sally" and "little black imp."</p> + +<p>Suddenly the stranger beheld, emerging from a forest path on the right +of the inn, a gentleman on horseback. He rode slowly, and the stranger +observed that all the villagers he encountered saluted him respectfully, +the men pulling off their hats, the women dropping profound courtesies, +and the children, on their way to school, by scampering in evident alarm +across meadows and fields.</p> + +<p>As he drew rein before the inn-door, the stranger drew back. The old +gentleman entered and approached the bar.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Giles," he said, addressing the proprietor of the "Eagle" +in a patronizing tone.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, squire—good-morning, sir. Fine day after the storm last +night," said the host, rising.</p> + +<p>"Great deal of damage done last night—great deal," said the old man, +speaking rapidly, as was his custom: "one or two of the fishermen's huts +down by the shore washed completely away. Yes, <i>sir—r</i>! Careless fools! +Served 'em right. Always said it would happen—<i>I</i> knew it. 'Coming +events cast their shadows afore,' as Solomon says."</p> + +<p>The young stranger stepped forward and stood before him.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, sir," he said, with a slight bow; "have I the honor of +addressing Squire Erliston?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—to be sure you have; that's me. Yes, <i>sir</i>. Who're you, +eh?—who're you?" said the squire, staring at him with his round, bullet +eyes.</p> + +<p>"If Squire Erliston will glance over this, it will answer his question," +said the young man, presenting a letter.</p> + +<p>The squire held the letter in his hand, and stared at him a moment +longer; then wiped his spectacles and adjusted them upon his nose, +opened the letter, and began to read.</p> + +<p>The stranger stood, in his usual careless manner, leaning against the +counter, and watched him during its perusal.</p> + +<p>"Lord bless me!" exclaimed the squire, as he finished the letter. "So +you're the son of my old friend, Oranmore? Who'd think it? You weren't +the size of a well-grown pup when I saw you last. And you're his son? +Well, well! Give us your hand. 'Who knows what a day may bring forth?' +as Solomon says. I'd as soon have thought of seeing the Khan of Tartary +here as you. Oranmore's son! Well, well, well! You're his very image—a +trifle better-looking. And you're Barry Oranmore? When did you come, +eh?—when did you come?"</p> + +<p>"Last night, sir."</p> + +<p>"Last night, in all the storm? Bless my soul! Why didn't you come up to +Mount Sunset? Eh, sir? Why didn't you come?"</p> + +<p>"Really, sir, I feared——"</p> + +<p>"Pooh!—pshaw!—nonsense!—no, you did not. 'Innocence is bold; but the +guilty flee-eth when no one pursues,' as Solomon says. What were you +afraid of? S'pose everybody told you I was a demon incarnate—confound +their impudence! But I ain't; no, <i>sir</i>! 'The devil's not as black as +he's painted,' as Solomon says—or if he didn't say it, he ought to."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir, I should be sorry to think of my father's old friend in +any such way, I beg to assure you."</p> + +<p>"No, you won't—haven't time. Come up to Mount Sunset—come, right off! +Must, sir—no excuse; Liz'll be delighted to see you. Come—come—come +along!"</p> + +<p>"Since you insist upon it, squire, I shall do myself the pleasure of +accepting your invitation."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—to be sure you will!" again interrupted the impatient squire. +"Bless my heart!—and you're little Barry. Well, well!"</p> + +<p>"I am Barry, certainly," said the young man, smiling; "but whether the +adjective 'little' is well applied or not, I feel somewhat doubtful. I +have a dim recollection of measuring some six feet odd inches when I +left home."</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, ha!—to be sure! to be sure!" laughed the lusty old squire. +"Little!—by Jove! you're a head and shoulders taller than I am myself. +Yes, sir—true as gospel. 'Bad weeds grow fast,' as Solomon says. Lord! +<i>won't</i> my Liz be astonished, though?"</p> + +<p>"I hope your daughter is quite well, squire."</p> + +<p>"Well!—you'd better believe it. My daughter is <i>never</i> sick. No, sir; +got too much sense—specially Liz. Esther always <i>was</i> a simpleton—ran +away, and all that, before she was out of her bibs and tuckers. Both +died—knew they would. 'The days of the transgressors shall be short on +the earth,' as Solomon says. But Liz has got her eye-teeth cut. Smart +girl, my Liz."</p> + +<p>"I anticipate great pleasure in making the acquaintance of Miss +Erliston," said Oranmore, carelessly; "her beauty and accomplishments +have made her name familiar to me long ago."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Liz is good-looking—deucedly good-looking; very like what I +was at her age. Ah, you're laughing, you rascal! Well, I dare say I'm no +beauty <i>now</i>;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> but never mind that at present. 'Handsome is as handsome +does,' as Solomon says. Come, get your traps and come along. Giles, fly +round—we're in a hurry."</p> + +<p>Thus adjured, Giles kindly consented to "fly round." All was soon ready; +and, after giving orders to have his portmanteau sent after him, young +Oranmore mounted his horse, and, accompanied by the squire, rode off +toward Mount Sunset Hall, the squire enlivening the way by numerous +quotations from Solomon.</p> + +<p>On reaching the Hall, his host ushered him into the parlor, where, +seated at the piano, was the squire's daughter, Lizzie, singing, by some +singular coincidence:</p> + +<div class="poemblock30"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There's somebody coming to marry me—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's somebody coming to woo."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Whether Miss Lizzie had seen that <i>somebody</i> coming through the window, +I cannot say.</p> + +<p>She rose abruptly from her seat as they entered, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa! I'm so glad you have come."</p> + +<p>Then, seeing the stranger, she drew back with the prettiest affectation +of embarrassment in the world.</p> + +<p>Lizzie Erliston was pretty—decidedly pretty—with a little round, +graceful figure, snowy complexion, rosebud lips, and sparkling, +vivacious blue eyes. Graceful, thoughtless, airy, dressy, and a most +finished flirt was little Lizzie.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Oranmore, my daughter Liz; Liz, Mr. Oranmore, son of my old friend. +Fact! Hurry up breakfast now—I'm starving."</p> + +<p>"I am delighted to welcome the son of papa's friend." said Lizzie, +courtesying to the handsome stranger, who returned the salutation with +easy gallantry.</p> + +<p>Breakfast was brought in, and the trio, together with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> worthy Mrs. +Gower, were soon seated around the table.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid, Mr. Oranmore, you will find it very dull here, after being +accustomed to the gayety of city life. Our village is the quietest place +in the world."</p> + +<p>"Dull!" repeated Oranmore. "Did angels ever condescend to dwell on this +earth. I should say they had taken up their abode in St. Mark's."</p> + +<p>He fixed his large dark eyes on her face, and bowed with a look of such +ardent yet respectful admiration as he spoke, that Lizzie blushed +"celestial, rosy red," and thought it the prettiest speech she had ever +heard.</p> + +<p>"Fudge!" grunted the squire.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mr. Oranmore, I see you are a sad flatterer," said the little lady, +smilingly, buttering another roll.</p> + +<p>"Not so, Miss Erliston. Dare I speak what I think, I should indeed be +deemed a flatterer," replied Oranmore, gallantly.</p> + +<p>"Bah!" muttered the squire, with a look of intense disgust.</p> + +<p>At this moment a child's shrill screams resounded in one of the rooms +above, growing louder and louder each moment.</p> + +<p>"There—that's Aurora! Just listen to the little wretch!" exclaimed +Lizzie. "That child will be the death of us yet, with her horrid yells. +Her lungs must be made of cast-iron, or something harder, for she is +incessantly screaming."</p> + +<p>The Squire darted an angry look at Mrs. Gower, who faltered out: She was +very sorry—that she had told Totty to be sure and keep her quiet—that +she didn't know what was the matter, she was sure——</p> + +<p>"Ring the bell!" said the squire, savagely cutting her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> short. The +summons was answered by the little darkey, Totty.</p> + +<p>"Well, Totty, what's the matter?" said Lizzie. "Don't you hear the baby +squalling there like a little tempest? Why don't you attend to her?"</p> + +<p>"Lor! Miss Lizzie, 'twan't none o' my fault—'deed 'twan't," said the +little darkey. "Miss Roarer's a-roarin' 'cause she can't put her feet in +de sugar-bowl. 'Deed I can't 'vent her, to save my precious life. Nobody +can't do nothing wid dat 'ar little limb."</p> + +<p>"I'll do something to <i>you</i> you won't like if you don't make her stop!" +said the angry squire. "Be off with you now; and, if I hear another +word, I'll—I'll twist your neck for you!"</p> + +<p>"Marse, I declare I can't stop her," said Totty, dodging in alarm toward +the door.</p> + +<p>"Be off!" thundered the squire, in a rage, hurling a hot roll at the +black head of Totty, who adroitly dodged and vanished instanter.</p> + +<p>"Of all diabolical inventions, young ones are the worst!" snappishly +exclaimed Squire Erliston, bringing down his fist on the table. "Pests! +plagues! abominations! Mrs. Gower, ma'am, if you don't give it a +sleeping draught when it takes to yelling, I'll—I'll—I'll——"</p> + +<p>"By the way, Mr. Oranmore, as you are from the city," broke in Lizzie, +"perhaps you may have heard of some one there who has lost a child?"</p> + +<p>"What—what did you say?—a child?" exclaimed Oranmore, starting so +suddenly and looking so wild, that all looked at him in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes. But, dear me, how pale you look! Are you ill?"</p> + +<p>"Ill! Oh, no; pray go on," said Oranmore, recovering himself by an +effort.</p> + +<p>"Well; last Christmas eve, Mrs. Gower was return<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>ing from the city, +where she had been to make purchases, and taking the shore road, picked +up an infant on the beach, and brought it home. It is a wonder no +inquiries were made about it."</p> + +<p>Barry Oranmore breathed freely again. It could not be <i>his</i> child, for +he had seen the nurse before leaving the city; and she, fearing to lose +her annuity, had told him the child was alive and well: therefore it +must be another.</p> + +<p>A week passed rapidly away at Sunset Hall. There were sails on the bay, +and rides over the hills, and shady forest walks, and drives through the +village, and long romantic rambles in the moonlight. And Lizzie Erliston +was in love. Was <i>he</i>? She thought so sometimes when his deep, dark eyes +would rest on her, and fill with softest languor as they wandered side +by side. But, then, had she not discovered his restlessness, his evident +longing to be away, though he still remained? Something in his conduct +saddened and troubled her; for she loved him as devotedly as it was in +the power of a nature essentially shallow and selfish to love. But the +dangerous spell of his voice and smile threw a glamour over her senses. +She could almost have loved his very faults, had she known them. And, +yielding herself to that witching spell, Lizzie Erliston, who had often +caught others, at last found herself caught.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>THE CYPRESS WREATH.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock30"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Bride, upon thy marriage-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did the fluttering of thy breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak of joy or woe beneath?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hue that went and came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thy cheek like waving flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowed that crimson from the unrest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the gladness of thy breast?"—<span class="smcap">Hemans.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p><span class="floatleft">"</span></p> +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_s.png" alt="S" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +quire Erliston, can I have a few moments' private conversation with +you this morning?" said Oranmore, as he sought the squire, whom Mrs. +Gower was just helping to ensconce in his easy-chair.</p></div> + +<p>"Certainly, certainly, my boy. Mrs. Gower, bring the rest of the pillows +by and by. 'Time for everything,' as Solomon says. Clear out now, ma'am, +while I attend to this young man's case."</p> + +<p>Barry Oranmore stood in the middle of the floor, resting one hand +lightly on the back of a chair. Squire Erliston, propped up in an +easy-chair with pillows and cushions, and wearing an unusually benign +expression of countenance—caused, probably, by Miss Aurora's +extraordinary quietness on that morning.</p> + +<p>"You have doubtless perceived, sir, my attentions to your daughter," +went on the young man, in a tone that was almost careless. "Miss Lizzie, +I am happy to say, returns my affection; and, in short, sir, I have +asked this interview to solicit your daughter's hand."</p> + +<p>He bowed slightly, and stood awaiting a reply. The squire jumped from +his seat, kicked one pillow to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> other end of the room, waved another +above his head, and shouted:</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul! it's just what I wanted! Give us your hand, my dear boy. +Solicit her hand! Take it, take it, with all my heart. If she had a +dozen of hands, you should have them all."</p> + +<p>"I thank you sincerely, Squire Erliston. Believe me, it only needed your +consent to our union to fill my cup of <i>happiness</i> to the brim."</p> + +<p>His voice was low—almost scornful; and the emphasis upon "happiness" +was bitter, indeed. But the squire, in his delight, neither heeded nor +noticed.</p> + +<p>"The wedding must come off immediately, my dear fellow. We'll have a +rousing one, and no mistake. I was afraid Liz might run off with some +penniless scamp, as Esther did; but now it's all right. Yes, the sooner +the wedding comes off the better. 'He who giveth not his daughter in +marriage, doeth well; but he who giveth her doeth better,' as Solomon +ought to know, seeing he had some thousands of 'em. Be off now, and +arrange with Lizzie the day for the wedding, while I take a sleep. When +it's all over, wake me up. There, go! Mrs. Gower! hallo! Mrs. Gower, I +say! come here with the pillows."</p> + +<p>Oranmore hurried out, while Mrs. Gower hurried in—he to tell Lizzie of +the success of his mission, and she to prepare her master for the arms +of Morpheus.</p> + +<p>That day fortnight was fixed upon as their marriage-day. The Bishop of +P—— was to visit St. Mark's, and during his advent in the village the +nuptials were to be celebrated.</p> + +<p>And such a busy place as Sunset Hall became after the important fact was +announced! Poor Mrs. Gower lost, perceptibly, fifty pounds of flesh, +with running in and out, and up and down stairs. Old carpets and old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +servants were turned out, and new curtains and French cooks turned in. +Carpets and custards, and ice-creams and Aurora's screams, and milliners +and feathers, and flowers and flounces, and jellies and jams, and +upholstery reigned supreme, until the squire swore by all the "fiends in +flames" that it was worse than pandemonium, and rushed from the place in +despair to seek refuge with Giles Fox, and smoke his pipe in peace at +the "Eagle."</p> + +<p>Barry Oranmore, finding his bride so busily engaged superintending +jewels, and satins, and laces, as to be able to dispense with his +services, mounted his horse each day, and seldom returned before night. +And, amid all the bustle and confusion, no one noticed that he grew +thinner and paler day after day; nor the deep melancholy filling his +dark eyes; nor the bitter, self-scorning look his proud, handsome face +ever wore. They knew not how he paced up and down his room, night after +night, trying to still the sound of <i>one</i> voice that was ever mournfully +calling his name. They knew not that when he quitted the +brilliantly-lighted rooms, and plunged into the deep, dark forest, it +was to shut out the sight of a sad, reproachful face, that ever haunted +him, day and night.</p> + +<p>Lizzie was in her glory, flitting about like a bird from morning till +night. Such wonderful things as she had manufactured out of white satin +and Mechlin lace, and such confusion as she caused—flying through the +house, boxing the servants' ears, and lecturing Mrs. Gower and shaking +Aurora—who had leave now to yell to her heart's content—and turning +everything topsy-turvy, until the squire brought down his fist with a +thump, and declared that though Solomon had said there was a time for +everything, neither Solomon, nor any other man, could ever convince him +that there was a time allotted for such a racket and rumpus as <i>that</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>But out of chaos, long ago, was brought forth order; and the "eve before +the bridal" everything in Sunset Hall was restored to peace and +quietness once more. The rooms were perfectly dazzling with the glitter +of new furniture and the blaze of myriads of lusters. And such a crowd +as on the wedding night filled those splendid rooms! There was Mrs. +Gower, magnificent in brown velvet, preserved for state occasions like +the present, with such a miraculous combination of white ribbons and +lace on her head. There was the squire, edifying the public generally +with copious extracts from Solomon and some that were <i>not</i> from +Solomon. There was Mrs. Oranmore, grim and gray as ever, moving like the +guilty shadow of a lost soul, through those gorgeous rooms and that +glittering crowd, with the miserable feeling at her heart, that her only +son was to be offered that night a sacrifice on the altar of her pride +and ambition. There was Doctor Wiseman, all legs and arms, as usual, +slinking among the guests. There was the bishop, a fat, pompous, +oily-looking gentleman, in full canonicals, waiting to tie the Gordian +knot.</p> + +<p>There was a bustle near the door, a swaying to and fro of the crowd, and +the bridal party entered. Every voice was instantaneously hushed, every +eye was fixed upon them. How beautiful the bride looked, with her +elegant robes and gleaming jewels, her downcast eyes, and rose-flushed +cheeks, and half-smiling lips. The eyes of all the gentlemen present +were fixed wistfully upon her. And the eyes of the ladies wandered to +the bridegroom, with something very like a feeling of awe, as they saw +how pale and cold he was looking—how different from any bridegroom they +had ever seen before. Were his thoughts wandering to <i>another</i> bridal, +in a land beyond the sea, with one for whose blue eyes and golden hair +he would <i>then</i> willingly have surrendered fame, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> wealth, and +ambition? And now, she who had left friends, and home, and country for +his sake, was deserted for another. Yet still that unknown, penniless +girl was dearer than all the world beside. Well might he look and feel +unlike a bridegroom, with but one image filling his heart, but one name +on his lips—"<i>Eveleen! Eveleen!</i>"</p> + +<p>But no one there could read the heart, throbbing so tumultuously beneath +that cold, proud exterior. They passed through the long rooms—the +bishop stood before them—the service began. To <i>him</i> it seemed like the +service for the dead—to <i>her</i> it was the most delightful thing in the +world. There was fluttering of fans, flirting of perfumed handkerchiefs, +smiling lips and eyes, and</p> + +<div class="poemblock40"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With decorum all things carried;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Miss smiled, and blushed, and then was—married."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>The ceremony was over, and Lizzie Erliston was Lizzie Erliston no +longer.</p> + +<p>But just at that moment, when the crowd around were about to press +forward to offer their congratulations, a loud, ringing footstep, that +sounded as though shod with steel, was heard approaching. A moment more, +and an uninvited guest stood among them. The tall, thin, sharp, angular +figure of a woman past middle age, with a grim, weird, old-maidenish +face; a stiff, rustling dress of iron-gray; a black net cap over her +grizzled locks, and a tramp like that of a dragoon, completed the +external of this rather unprepossessing figure.</p> + +<p>All fell back and made way for her, while a murmur: "Miss Hagar! What +brings Miss Hagar here?" passed through the room.</p> + +<p>She advanced straight to where Lizzie stood, leaning proudly and fondly +on the arm of Oranmore, and drawing forth a wreath of mingled cypress +and dismal yew,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> laid it amid the orange blossoms on the head of the +bride.</p> + +<p>With a shriek of superstitious terror, Lizzie tore the ominous wreath +from her head, and flung it on the floor. Heeding not the action, the +woman raised her long, gaunt, fleshless arm like an inspired sibyl, and +chanted in a voice so wild and dreary, that every heart stood still:</p> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, bride! woe to thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the spring leaves deck the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those locks you now with jewels twine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall wear this cypress wreath of mine."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Then striding through the awe-struck crowd, she passed out and +disappeared.</p> + +<p>Faint and sick with terror, Lizzie hid her face in the arm that +supported her. A moment's silence ensued, broken by the squire, who came +stamping along, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Hallo! what's the matter here! Have either of these good people +repented of their bargain, already. 'Better late than never,' as Solomon +says."</p> + +<p>"It was only my sister Hagar, who came here to predict fortunes, as +usual," said Doctor Wiseman, with an uneasy attempt at a laugh, "and +succeeded in scaring Miss Lizzie—Mrs. Oranmore, I mean—half out of her +wits."</p> + +<p>"Pooh! pooh! is that all. Liz, don't be such a little fool! There goes +the music. Let every youngster be off, on penalty of death, to the +dancing-room. 'Time to dance,' as Solomon says, and if it's not at +weddings, I'd like to know when it is. Clear!"</p> + +<p>Thus adjured, with a great deal of laughing and chatting, the company +dispersed. The folding-doors flew open, and merry feet were soon +tripping gayly to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> the music, and flirting, and laughing, and +love-making, and ice-creams were soon at their height, and Lizzie, as +she floated airily around the room in the waltz, soon forgot all about +Miss Hagar's prediction. Barry Oranmore, by an effort, shook off his +gloom, and laughed with the merriest, and waltzed with his bride, and +the pretty bride-maids; and all the time his heart was far away with +that haunting shape that had stood by his side all the night.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A month had passed away. Their bridal tour had been a short one, and the +newly wedded pair had returned to Sunset Hall. And Lizzie was at last +beginning to open her eyes, and wonder what ailed her husband. So +silent, so absent, so restless, growing more and more so day after day. +His long rides over the hills were now taken alone; and he would only +return to lie on a lounge in some darkened room, with his face hidden +from view by his long, neglected locks. At first she pouted a little at +this; but seeing it produced no effect, she at last concluded to let him +have his own way, and she would take hers. So evening after evening, +while he lay alone, so still and motionless, in his darkened chamber, +Lizzie frequented parties and <i>soirees</i>, giving plausible excuses for +her husband's absence, and was the gayest of the gay.</p> + +<p>One morning, returning with the gray dawn, from an unusually brilliant +<i>soiree</i>, she inquired for her husband, and learned that, half an hour +before, he had called for his horse and ridden off. This did not +surprise her, for it had often happened so before; so, without giving +the matter a second thought, she flung herself on her bed, and fell fast +asleep.</p> + +<p>Half an hour after the sound of many feet, and a confused murmur of many +voices below, fell on her ear.</p> + +<p>Wondering what it could mean, she raised herself on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> her elbow to +listen, when the door was burst open; and Totty, gray, gasping, +horror-stricken, stood before her.</p> + +<p>"Totty, what in the name of heaven is the matter!" exclaimed Lizzie, in +surprise and alarm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, missus! Oh, missus!" were the only words the frightened negress +could utter.</p> + +<p>"Merciful heaven! what has happened?" exclaimed Lizzie, springing to her +feet, in undefined terror. "Totty, Totty, tell me, or I shall go and +see."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Lizzie! Oh, Miss Lizzie!" cried the girl, falling on her +knees, "for de dear Lord's sake, don't go. Oh, Miss Lizzie, it's too +drefful to tell! It would kill you!"</p> + +<p>With a wild cry, Lizzie snatched her robe from the clinging hands that +held it, and fled from the room down the long staircase. There was a +crowd round the parlor door; all the servants were collected there, and +inside she could see many of the neighbors gathered. She strove to force +her way through the throng of appalled servants, who mechanically made +way for her to pass.</p> + +<p>"Keep her back—keep her back, I tell you," cried the voice of Dr. +Wiseman, "would you kill her?"</p> + +<p>A score of hands were extended to keep her back, but they were too late. +She had entered, and a sight met her eyes that sent the blood curdling +with horror to her heart. A wild, terrific shriek rang through the +house, as she threw up both arms and fell, in strong convulsions, on the +floor.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>Gipsy.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock28"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A little, wild-eyed, tawny child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fairy sprite, untamed and wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like to no one save herself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A laughing, mocking, gipsy elf."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_y.png" alt="Y" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +ear after year glides away, and we wonder vaguely that they can have +passed. On our way to the grave we may meet many troubles, but time +obliterates them all, and we learn to laugh and talk as merrily again as +though the grass was not growing between our face and one we could never +love enough. But such is life.</p></div> + +<p>Ten years have passed away at St. Mark's since the close of our last +chapter; ten years of dull, tedious monotony. The terrible sight that +had met Lizzie Oranmore's eyes that morning, was the dead form of her +young husband. He had been riding along at his usual reckless, headlong +pace, and had been thrown from his horse and killed.</p> + +<p>Under the greensward in the village church-yard, they laid his +world-weary form to rest, with only the name inscribed on the cold, +white marble to tell he had ever existed. And no one dreamed of the +youthful romance that had darkened all the life of Barry Oranmore. Lying +on the still heart, that had once beat so tumultuously, they found the +miniature of a fair young face and a long tress of sunny hair. Wondering +silently to whom they belonged, good Mrs. Gower laid them aside, little +dreaming of what they were one day to discover.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lizzie, with her usual impulsiveness, wept and sobbed for a time +inconsolably. But it was not in her shallow, thoughtless nature to +grieve long for any one; and ere a year had passed, she laughed as gayly +and sang as merrily as ever.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, it may be, when her child—her boy—would look up in her face +with the large dark eyes of him who had once stolen her girlish heart +away, tears for a moment would weigh down her golden eyelashes; but the +next instant the passing memory was forgotten, and her laugh again rang +out merry and clear.</p> + +<p>And so the ten years had passed, and no change had taken place at Sunset +Hall save that it was far from being the quiet place it had been +formerly.</p> + +<p>Has the reader forgotten Aurora, the little foundling of yelling +notoriety? If so, it is no fault of hers, for that shrill-voiced young +lady never allowed herself to be pushed aside to make room for any one. +Those ten years at least made a change in her.</p> + +<p>See her now, as she stands with her dog by her side, for a moment, to +rest, in the quaint old porch fronting Sunset Hill. She has been romping +with Lion this morning, and now, panting and breathless, she pauses for +an instant to prepare for a fresh race. There she stands! A little, +slight, wiry, agile figure, a little thin, dark, but bright and +sparkling face, with small, irregular features, never for a moment at +rest. With a shower of short, crisp, dark curls streaming in the breeze, +every shining ring dancing with life, and fire, and mirth, and mischief. +And with such eyes, looking in her face you forgot every other feature +gazing in those "bonny wells of brown," that seemed fairly scintillating +wickedness. How they did dance, and flash, and sparkle, with youth, and +glee, and irrepressible fun—albeit the darker flame that now and then +leaped from their shining depths be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>spoke a wild, fierce spirit, untamed +and daring, slumbering in her heart, quiet and unaroused as yet, but +which would one day burst forth, scathing, blighting all on whom it +fell.</p> + +<p>And such is Aurora Gower. A wild, dark, elfish changeling, not at all +pretty, but the most bewitching sprite withal, that ever kept a +household in confusion. Continually getting into scrapes and making +mischief, and doing deeds that would have been unpardonable in any one +else, Aurora, in some mysterious way of her own, escaped censure, and +the most extravagant actions were passed over with the remark, that it +was "just like her—just what you might expect from a gipsy." Owing to +her dark skin and wild habits, "Gipsy" was the name by which Mrs. +Gower's <i>protegee</i> was universally known. With every one she was a +favorite, for though always saucy, often impertinent, and invariably +provoking, it was impossible to be angry with a little fairy of a +creature whom they could almost hold up between their finger and thumb.</p> + +<p>As for the burly old squire, he could as soon think of getting along +without his brandy as without Gipsy. For though they continually +quarreled, he abusing her unmercifully, and she retorting impudently, +yet, when Gipsy at the end would flounce out in a towering passion, she +was sure a few hours after to find a peace-offering from the old man, in +the shape of a costly gift, lying on her table. After some coaxing she +would consent to forgive him, and Squire Erliston and his little ward +would smoke the calumet of peace (figuratively speaking); but, alas! for +the short-lived truce—ere another hour the war of words would be raging +"fast and furious" once more.</p> + +<p>Good Mrs. Gower zealously strove to impress on the wayward elf a +becoming respect for the head of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> household; and sometimes, in a fit +of penitence, Aurora would promise "not to give Guardy any more bile," +but being by nature woefully deficient in the bump of reverence, the +promise had never been kept; and at last the worthy housekeeper gave up +the task in despair.</p> + +<p>And so Aurora was left pretty much to follow her "own sweet will," and +no one need wonder that she grew up the maddest, merriest elf that ever +danced in the moonlight. At the age of eleven she could ride with the +best horseman for miles around, hunt like a practiced sportsman, bring +down a bird on the wing with her unerring bullet, and manage a boat with +the smartest fisherman in St. Marks. Needle-work, dolls, and other +amusements suitable for her age, she regarded with the utmost contempt, +and with her curls streaming behind her, her hat swinging in her hand, +she might be seen flying about the village from morning till night, +always running, for she was too quick and impetuous to walk. In the +stormiest weather, when the winds were highest and the sea roughest, she +would leap into one of the fishermen's boats, and unheeding storm and +danger, go out with them, in spite of commands and entreaties to the +contrary, until danger and daring became with her second nature. But +while Aurora has been standing for her picture the rest of the family +have assembled in the breakfast-parlor of Mount Sunset Hall. Languidly +stretched on a sofa lay Lizzie Oranmore. Those ten years have made no +change in her; just the same rose-leaf complexion, the same round, +little graceful figure, the same coquettish airs and graces as when we +saw her last. She might readily have been taken for the elder sister of +her son, Louis, who stood by the window sketching the view before him.</p> + +<p>There was a striking resemblance between Louis and his dead father; the +same clear, olive complexion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> the same sable locks and bold black eyes, +the same scornful, curving upper lip, and the same hot, rash, impetuous +nature. But with all his fiery impetuosity he was candid, open and +generous, the soul of honor and frankness, but with a nature which, +according as it was trained, must be powerful for good or evil.</p> + +<p>Sitting propped up in an easy-chair, with his gouty leg, swathed in +flannel, stretched on two chairs, was the squire, looking in no very +sweet frame of mind. The morning paper, yet damp from the press, lay +before him; but the squire's attention would wander from it every moment +to the door.</p> + +<p>"Where's that little wretch this morning?" broke out the squire, at +last, throwing down his paper impatiently.</p> + +<p>"I really can't say," replied Lizzie, opening her eyes languidly. "I saw +her racing over the hills this morning, with those dreadful dogs of +hers. I expect she will be back soon."</p> + +<p>"And we must wait for her ladyship!" growled the squire. "I'll cane her +within an inch of her life if she doesn't learn to behave herself. +'Spare the child and spoil the rod,' as Solomon says."</p> + +<p>"Here she comes!" exclaimed Louis, looking up. "Speak of Satan and he'll +appear."</p> + +<p>"Satan! She's no Satan, I'd have you know, you young jackanapes!" said +the squire, angrily, for though always abusing the "little vixen," +Aurora, himself, he would suffer no one else to do it.</p> + +<p>"Look, look how she dashes along!" exclaimed Louis, with kindling eyes, +unheeding the reproof. "There! she has leaped her pony over the gate, +and now she is standing up in her saddle; and—bravo! well done, Gipsy! +She has actually sprung over black Jupe's head in a flying leap."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>While he spoke Gipsy came running up the lawn toward the house, singing, +in a high, shrill voice, as she ran:</p> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He died long, long ago, long ago—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He had no hair on the top of his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The place where the wool ought to grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lay down the shovel and the hoe-o-o,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hang up——"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>"Stop that, stop that, you vixen! Stop it, I tell you, or I'll hang +<i>you</i> up!" said the squire, angrily. "Where do you learn those vulgar +doggerels?"</p> + +<p>"Make 'em up, Guardy—every one of 'em. Ain't I a genius?"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it, you scapegrace."</p> + +<p>"No wonder you don't, seeing there never was a genius in the family +before; but 'better late than never,' you know."</p> + +<p>"None of your impertinence, miss. Give an account of yourself, if you +please. Where were you this morning? Answer me <i>that</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Nowhere, sir."</p> + +<p>"Don't tell stories, you little sinner. Where is nowhere?"</p> + +<p>"Over to Doctor Spider's."</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, my dear, why will you persist in calling Doctor Wiseman +nicknames?" remonstrated Lizzie.</p> + +<p>"Why, Aunt Liz, because he's just like a spider, for all the world—all +legs," flippantly replied Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"And what business had you there, monkey? Didn't I tell you not to go? I +thought I told you <i>never</i> to go there!" said the squire, in rising +wrath.</p> + +<p>"Know it, Guardy, and that's just the reason I went."</p> + +<p>"Because I forbade you, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You—you—you disobedient little hussy, you! Aren't you ashamed of +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Ashamed!—what of? I haven't got the gout in my leg."</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, you dreadful child, hush!" said Lizzie, in alarm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, let her go on! She's just as you taught her, madam. And as to you, +Miss Gipsy, or Aurora, or whatever your name is, let me tell you, the +gout is nothing to be ashamed of. It runs in the most respectable +families, miss."</p> + +<p>"Lord, Guardy! What a pity I can't have it, too, and help to keep up the +respectability of the family!"</p> + +<p>Louis turned to the window, and struggled violently with a laugh, which +he endeavored to change into a cough, and the laugh and cough meeting, +produced a choking sensation. This sent Gipsy to his aid, who, after +administering sundry thumps on his back with her little closed fists, +restored him to composure, and the squire returned to the charge.</p> + +<p>"And now, to 'return to our mutton,' as Solomon says; or—hold on a +minute—was it Solomon who said that?"</p> + +<p>The squire paused, and placed his finger reflectively on the point of +his nose, in deep thought; but being unable to decide, he looked up, and +went on:</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss, as I was saying, what took you over to Deep Dale so early +this morning? Tell me that."</p> + +<p>"Well, if I must, I must, I s'pose—so here goes."</p> + +<p>"Hallo, Gipsy!" interrupted Louis. "Take care—you're making poetry."</p> + +<p>"No, sir! I scorn the accusation!" said Gipsy, drawing herself up. "But, +Guardy, since I <i>must</i> tell you, I went over to see—ahem!—Archie!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You did!" grunted Guardy. "Humph! humph! humph!"</p> + +<p>"Don't take it so much to heart, Guardy. No use grieving—'specially as +the grief might settle in your poor afflicted leg—limb, I mean."</p> + +<p>"And may I ask, young lady, what you could possibly want with him?" said +the squire, sternly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, fifty things! He's my beau, you know."</p> + +<p>"Your beau!—<i>your</i> beau!—your <span class="smcap">BEAU</span>! My conscience!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, we're engaged."</p> + +<p>"You are? 'Oh, Jupiter,' as Solomon says. Pray, madam (for such I +presume you consider yourself), when will you be twelve years old?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, as soon as I can. I don't want to be an old maid."</p> + +<p>"So it seems, you confounded little Will-o'-the-wisp. And will you be +good enough to inform us how this precious engagement came about?" said +the squire, with a savage frown.</p> + +<p>"With pleasure, sir. You see, we went out to gather grapes in the wood +one day, and we had a splendiferous time. And says I, 'Archie, ain't +this nice?'—and says he 'Yes'—and says I, 'Wouldn't it be nice if we'd +get married?'—and says he, 'Yes'—and says I, '<i>Will</i> you have me, +though?'—and says he, 'Yes'—and says I——"</p> + +<p>"'Ain't we a precious pair of fools?' and says he, 'Yes,'" interrupted +the squire, mimicking her. "Oh, you're a nice gal—you're a pretty young +lady!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ain't I, now? You and I are of one opinion there, exactly. Ain't +you proud of me?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Proud</i> of you, you barefaced little wretch! I'd like to twist your +neck for you!" thundered the squire.</p> + +<p>"Better not, Guardy; you'd be hung for <i>man</i>-slaughter if you did, you +know."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> don't call yourself a man, I hope!" said Louis.</p> + +<p>"Well, if I don't, I'm a girl—which is a thousand times nicer. And +speaking of girls, reminds me that Miss Hagar's got the dearest, +darlingest, <i>beautifulest</i> little girl you ever set your eyes on."</p> + +<p>"Miss Hagar?" they all exclaimed in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes, to be sure. Law! you needn't look so astonished; this is a free +country. And why can't Miss Hagar have a little girl, if she wants to, +as well as anybody else, I'd like to know?" exclaimed Gipsy, rather +indignantly.</p> + +<p>"To be sure," said Louis, who took the same view of the case as Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Where did she get it?—whose little girl is it?" inquired Lizzie, +slightly roused from her languor by the news.</p> + +<p>"Don't know, I'm sure; nobody don't. She was off somewhere poking round +all day yesterday, and came home at night with this little girl. Oh, +Louis, she's such a dear little thing!"</p> + +<p>"Is she?" said Louis, absently.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed—with a face like double-refined moonlight, and long, +yellow hair, and blue eyes, and pink dress, and cheeks to match. She's +twice as pretty as Minette; and Miss Hagar's going to keep her, and +teach her to tell fortunes, I expect."</p> + +<p>"I wonder Dr. Wiseman allows Miss Hagar to fill the house with little +beggars," said Lizzie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Spider's got nothing to do with it. Miss Hagar has money of her +own, and can keep her if she likes. Pity if she'd have to ask permission +of that 'thing of legs and arms,' everything she wants to do."</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, my dear, you really must not speak so of Dr. Wiseman: it's +positively shocking," said the highly-scandalized Mrs. Oranmore.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I don't care; he <i>is</i> a 'thing of legs and arms.' There, now!"</p> + +<p>"What's the little girl's name, Gipsy?" inquired Louis.</p> + +<p>"<i>Celeste</i>—isn't it pretty? And she—oh, she's a darling, and no +mistake. <i>Wouldn't</i> I marry her if I was a man—maybe I wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"What's her other name?"</p> + +<p>"Got none—at least she said so; and, as I didn't like to tell her she +told a story, I asked Miss Hagar, and <i>she</i> told me to mind my own +business; yes, she actually did. Nobody minds how they talk to me. +People haven't a bit of respect for me; and I have to put up with <i>sass</i> +from every one. I won't stand it much longer, either. There!"</p> + +<p>"No, I wouldn't advise you to," said Louis. "Better <i>sit</i> down; no use +in standing it."</p> + +<p>"Wiseman's a fool if he lets that crazy tramp, his sister, support +beggars in his house," exclaimed the squire, in a threatening tone. +"Lunatics like her should not be allowed to go at large. He has no +business to permit it."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see him trying to stop it," said Gipsy. "I'd be in his +wool."</p> + +<p>"<i>You!</i>" said the squire, contemptuously. "What could a little Tom Thumb +in petticoats, like you, do?"</p> + +<p>"Look here, now, Guardy, don't call a lady names. When you speak of Tom +Thumb, you know, it's getting personal. What could I do? Why, I'd set +his house on fire some night about his ears, or some day, when out +shooting, a bullet might strike him accidentally on purpose. It takes me +to defend injured innocence," said Gipsy, getting up, and squaring-off +in an attitude of defiance, as she exclaimed: "Come on, old Wiseman, I'm +ready for you!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I can't allow you to associate with beggars. You must never go to +Deep Dale again. I can't countenance his proceedings. If he choose to +make a fool of himself, it's no reason why I should do so too."</p> + +<p>"None in the world, sir—especially as nature has saved you that +trouble."</p> + +<p>"You audacious little demon, you! what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Ahem! I was just observing, sir, that it's time for breakfast," said +Gipsy, demurely.</p> + +<p>"Humph! humph! well, ring for Mrs. Gower, and hold your tongue."</p> + +<p>"Sorry I can't oblige you, Guardy. But how can I hold my tongue and +eat?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I could find something to take the edge off it; it's altogether +too sharp," growled the old man to himself.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gower, fat and good-natured as ever, entered at this moment; and, +as they assembled round the table, the squire—who, though he generally +got the worst of the argument, would never let Gipsy rest—again resumed +the subject.</p> + +<p>"Mind, monkey, you're not to go to Deep Dale again; I forbid +you—positively forbid you."</p> + +<p>"Lor! Guardy, you don't say so!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be disrespectful, minx. If I'm your guardian, you shall obey me. +You heard me say so before, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, I think so; but, then, you say so many things, a body can't +be expected to remember them all. You <i>must</i> be talking, you know; and +you might as well be saying that as anything else."</p> + +<p>"But I am determined you shall obey me this time. Do you hear? At your +peril, minion, <i>dare</i> to go there again!" thundered the squire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That very pretty, Guardy, won't you say it over again," replied the +tantalizing elf.</p> + +<p>"Gipsy! oh, Gipsy, my dear!" chanted the ladies Gower and Oranmore, in a +horrified duet.</p> + +<p>"You—you—you—little, yellow abomination you! You—you—skinny——"</p> + +<p>"Squire Erliston," said Gipsy, drawing herself up with stately dignity, +"let me remind you, you are getting to be personal. How would you like +it if I called <i>you</i>—you—you red-faced old fright—you—you—you +gouty-legged——"</p> + +<p>"There! there! that'll do," hastily interrupted the squire, while a +universal shout of laughter went round the table at the ludicrous manner +in which the little imp mimicked his blustering tone. "There, there! +don't say a word about it; but mind, if you dare to go to Dr. Wiseman's, +you'll rue it. Mind that."</p> + +<p>"All right, sir; let me help you to another roll," said Gipsy, with her +sweetest smile, as she passed the plate to the old man, who looked, not +only daggers, but bowie-knives at the very least.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>A STORM AT MOUNT SUNSET HALL.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock38"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"At this Sir Knight grew high in wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lifting hands and eyes up both,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three times he smote his stomach stout,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From whence, at length, fierce words broke out."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> +<p style="margin-left: 65%;"><span class="smcap">Hudibras.</span></p> + +<p><span class="floatleft">"</span></p> +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_t.png" alt="T" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +otty! Totty! I say, Totty, where are you? I declare to screech, I +never saw such a provoking darkey in my life. Nobody never can find her +when she's wanted! Totty! Totty! hallo, Totty! I want you dreadfully, +it's a matter of life and death! If that girl doesn't pay more attention +to me, I'll—I'll discharge her; <i>I will</i>, so help me Jimmy Johnston! +Totty! Totty-y-y!" So called and shouted Gipsy, as she flew in and out, +and up and down stairs, banging doors after her with a noise that made +the old house ring, and scolding at the top of her voice all the time.</p></div> + +<p>"Laws! Miss Roarer, here I is," said Totty, hurrying as fast as possible +into the presence of the little virago, to get rid of the noise.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's a wonder you came! I s'pose you'd rather be lounging down in +the kitchen than 'tending to your mistress. How dare you go away, when +you don't know what minute I may want you? Hey?"</p> + +<p>"Good Lor! Miss Roarer, I only went down to de kitchen to get my +breakfas' 'long o' the res'. How you 'spec I's gwine to live 'thout +eatin'? You allers <i>does</i> call jes' the contrariest time, allers——"</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue!" exclaimed her imperious little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> mistress; "don't +give me any of your <i>imperunce</i>! There, curl my hair, and put on my +pretty purple riding-habit, and make me just as pretty as ever you can. +Hurry up!"</p> + +<p>"Make you pretty, indeed!" muttered the indignant Totty; "'deed, when de +Lord couldn't do it, 'taint very likely I can. Come 'long and keep +still, two or free minutes, if you can. I never knew such a res'less +little critter in all my life."</p> + +<p>While Gipsy was standing as quietly as her fidgety nature would allow, +to have her hair curled, Mrs. Gower entered.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'Rora, my dear, where are you going this morning, that you are +dressing in your best?" said Mrs. Gower, glancing at the gay purple +riding-habit—for dress was a thing Gipsy seldom troubled herself about.</p> + +<p>"Why, aunty, where <i>would</i> I be going; over to Spider's, of course."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy, my dear, pray don't think of such a thing!" exclaimed the +good woman, in a tone of alarm. "Your guardian will be dreadfully +angry."</p> + +<p>"Lor! aunty, I know that; there wouldn't be any fun in it if he wasn't," +replied the elf.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Aurora, child! you don't know what you're doing. Consider all he +has done for you, and how ungrateful it is of you to disobey him in this +manner. Now, he has set his heart on keeping you from Deep Dale (you +know he never liked the doctor nor his family), and he will be terribly, +frightfully angry if he finds you have disobeyed him. Ride over the +hills, go out sailing or shooting, but do not go there."</p> + +<p>Gipsy, who had been yawning fearfully during this address, now jerked +herself away from Totty, and replied, impatiently:</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>let</i> him get frightfully angry; I'll get 'fright<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>fully angry' +too, and so there will be a pair of us. Do you s'pose I'd miss seeing +that dear, sweet, little girl again, just because Guardy will stamp, and +fume, and roar, and scare all mankind into fits? Not I, indeed. Let him +come on, who's afraid," and Gipsy threw herself into a stage attitude, +and shouted the words in a voice that was quite imposing, coming as it +did from so small a body.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy, child! consider," again began Mrs. Gower.</p> + +<p>"Oh, aunty, dear! I won't consider, never did; don't agree with my +constitution, no how you can fix it. Archie told me one day when I was +doing something he considered a crazy trick, to 'consider.' Well, for +his sake, I tried to, and before ten minutes, aunty, I felt symptoms of +falling into a decline. There now!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear! my dear! you are incorrigible," sighed Mrs. Gower; "but +what would you do if your guardian some day turned you out of doors? You +have no claim on him, and he <i>might</i> do it, you know, in a fit of +anger."</p> + +<p>"If he did"—exclaimed Gipsy, springing up with flashing eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, and if he did, what would you do?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I'd defy him to his face, and then I'd run off, and go to sea, and +make my fortune, and come back, and marry you—no, I couldn't do that, +but I'd marry Archie. Lor! I'd get along splendidly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy! rightly named Gipsy! how little you know what it is +to be friendless in the world, you poor little fairy you! Now, child, be +quiet, and talk sensibly to me for a few minutes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother, aunty! I can't be quiet; and as to talking sensibly, why I +rather think I am doing that just now. There, now—now do, please, +bottle up that lecture<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> you've got for me, and it'll keep, for I'm off!" +And darting past them, she ran down stairs, through the long hall, and +was flying toward the stables in a twinkling.</p> + +<p>On her way she met our old friend, Jupiter.</p> + +<p>"Hallo, Jupe! Oh, there you are! Go and saddle Mignonne <i>'mediately</i>. I +want him; quick, now!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss Roarer, honey, I'se sorry for ter diserblige yer, chile, but +ole mas'r he tole me not to let yer get Minnin to-day," said Jupiter, +looking rather uneasily at the dark, wild, little face, and large, +lustrous eyes, in which a storm was fast brewing.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say he told you not to let me have my pony?" she said, +or rather hissed, through her tightly-clenched teeth.</p> + +<p>"Jes' so, Miss Roarer; he tell me so not ten minutes ago."</p> + +<p>"Now, Jupiter, look here; you go right off and saddle Mignonne, or it'll +be the worse for you. D'ye hear?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Roarer, I 'clare for't I dassent. Mas'r'll half kill me."</p> + +<p>"And I'll <i>whole</i> kill you if you don't," said Gipsy, with a wild flash +of her black eyes, as she sprang lightly on a high stone bench, and +raised her riding-whip over the head of the trembling darkey; "go, sir; +go right off and do as I tell you!"</p> + +<p>"Laws! I can't—'deed chile! I can't——"</p> + +<p>Whack! whack! whack! with no gentle hand went the whip across his +shoulders, interrupting his apology.</p> + +<p>"There, you black rascal! will you dare to disobey your mistress again!" +Whack! whack! whack!" If you don't bring Mignonne out this minute, I'll +shoot you dead as a mackerel! There; does that argument overcome your +scruples?" whack! whack! <i>whack!</i></p> + +<p>With something between a yell and a howl, poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> Jupiter sprung back, and +commenced rubbing his afflicted back.</p> + +<p>"Will you go?" demanded Gipsy, raising her whip once more.</p> + +<p>"Yes! yes! Who ever did see such a 'bolical little limb as dat ar. Ole +mas'r'll kill me, I knows he will," whimpered poor Jupiter as he slunk +away to the stables, closely followed by his vixenish little mistress, +still poising the dangerous whip.</p> + +<p>Mignonne, a small, black, fleet-footed, spirited Arabian, was led forth, +pawing the ground and tossing his head, as impatient to be off, even, as +his young mistress.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Jupe," said Gipsy, as she sprang into the saddle and +gathered up the reins; "but mind, for the future, never dare to disobey +<i>me</i>, no matter what anybody says. Mind, if you do, look out for a +pistol-ball, some night, through your head."</p> + +<p>Jupiter, who had not the slightest doubt but what the mad-headed little +witch would do it as soon as not, began whimpering like a whipped +schoolboy. Between the Scylla of his master's wrath, and the Charybdis +of his willful little mistress, poor Jupiter knew not which way to +steer.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, Jupe—there's a good fellow," said Gipsy, touched by his +distress. "Keep out of your master's sight till I come back, and I'll +take all the blame upon myself. There, now—off we go, Mignonne!"</p> + +<p>And waving her plumed hat above her head, with a shout of triumphant +defiance as she passed the house, Gipsy went galloping down the road +like a flash.</p> + +<p>The sky, which all the morning had looked threatening, was rapidly +growing darker and darker. About half an hour after the departure of +Gipsy, the storm burst upon them in full fury. The wind howled fiercely +through the forest, the rain fell in torrents, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> lightning flashed in +one continued sheet of blue electric flame, the thunder crashed peal +upon peal, until heaven and earth seemed rending asunder.</p> + +<p>The frightened inmates of Sunset Hall were huddled together, shivering +with fear. The doors and windows were closed fast, and the servants, +gray with terror, were cowering in alarm down in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Lor' have massy 'pon us! who ever seed sich lightnin'? 'Pears as though +all de worl' was 'luminated, and de las' day come!" said Jupiter, his +teeth chattering with terror.</p> + +<p>"An' Miss Roarer, she's out in all de storm, an' ole mas'r don't know +it," said Totty. "She <i>would</i> go, spite of all Missus Scour said. I +'clare to man, that dat ar rampin', tarryfyin' little limb's 'nuff to +drive one clar 'stracted. I ain't no peace night nor day 'long o' her +capers. Dar!"</p> + +<p>"Won't we cotch it when mas'r finds out she's gone," said a +cunning-looking, curly-headed little darkey, whom Gipsy had nicknamed +Bob-o-link, with something like a chuckle; "good Lor! jes' see ole mas'r +a swearin' an' tearin' round', an' kickin' de dogs an' niggers, an' +smashin' de res' ob de furnitur'. Oh, Lor!" And evidently overcome by +the ludicrous scene which fancy had conjured up, Bob-o-link threw +himself back, and went off into a perfect convulsion of laughter, to the +horror of the rest.</p> + +<p>While this discussion was going on below stairs, a far different scene +was enacting above.</p> + +<p>At the first burst of the storm, Lizzie and Mrs. Gower hastened in +affright to the parlor, where the squire was peacefully snoring in his +arm-chair, and Louis was still finishing his sketch.</p> + +<p>The noise and bustle of their entrance aroused the squire from his +slumbers, and after sundry short snorts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> he woke up, and seeing the +state of affairs, his first inquiry was for Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Where's that little abomination, now?" he abruptly demanded, in a tone +that denoted his temper was not improved by the sudden breaking up of +his nap.</p> + +<p>All were silent. Mrs. Gower through fear, and the others through +ignorance.</p> + +<p>"Where is she? where is she, I say?" thundered the squire. "Doesn't +somebody know?"</p> + +<p>"Most likely up stairs somewhere," said Louis. "Shall I go and see?"</p> + +<p>"No, you sha'n't 'go and see.' It's the duty of the women there to look +after her, but they don't do it. She might be lost, or murdered, or +killed, fifty times a day, for all they care. 'Who trusteth in the +ungodly shall be deceived,' as Solomon says. Ring that bell."</p> + +<p>Louis obeyed; and in a few minutes Totty, quaking with terror, made her +appearance.</p> + +<p>"Where's your young mistress? Where's Miss Gipsy, eh?" demanded the +squire, in an awful voice.</p> + +<p>"Deed, mas'r, she's rode off. I couldn't stop her nohow, 'deed——"</p> + +<p>"Rode off!" shouted the squire, as, forgetful of his gouty leg, he +sprang to his feet; "rode off in this storm? Villains! wretches! demons! +I'll murder every one of you! Out in this storm! Good Lord! Clear out, +every living soul of you, and if one of you return without her, +I'll—I'll blow his brains out!" roared the old man, purple with rage.</p> + +<p>"Why, grandfather," said Louis, while the rest cowered with fear, "it is +not likely Gipsy is out exposed to the storm. There are many places of +shelter well-known to her among the hills, and there she will stay until +this hurricane is over. It would be impossible for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> any one to find her +now, even though they could ride through this storm."</p> + +<p>"Silence!" thundered the squire; "they must find her! Here, Jupe, Jake, +Bob, and the rest of you, mount, and off in search of Miss Aurora over +the hills, and at the peril of your life, return without her. Be off! +go! vanish! and mind ye, be sure to bring her home."</p> + +<p>"Law! mas'r, Miss Roarer ain't over de hills. She's gone over to Deep +Dale," said Totty.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">What!</span>" exclaimed the squire, pausing in his rage, aghast, thunderstruck +at the news.</p> + +<p>"'Deed, Lord knows, mas'r, I couldn't stop her."</p> + +<p>"You—you—you—diabolical imp you!" roared the old man, seizing his +crutch, and hurling it at her head, as Totty, in mortal alarm, dodged +and fled from the room. "Oh, the little demon! the little wretch! won't +I pay her for this, when I get hold of her! the—the disobedient, +ungrateful, undutiful hussy! I'll cane her within an inch of her life! +I'll lock her up on bread and water! I'll keep her in the house day and +night! I'll—oh, Lord, my leg," he exclaimed, with a groan, as he fell +back, powerless, between rage and despair, in his seat.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gower and Lizzie, still quaking with terror, drew farther into the +corner to escape his notice, while Louis bent still lower over his +drawing to hide a smile that was breaking over his face.</p> + +<p>At this moment a fresh burst of rain and wind shook the doors and +windows of the old house, and with it the squire's rage broke out +afresh.</p> + +<p>"Call Jupe! Be off, Louis, and tell him to ride over to Deep Dale this +instant, and bring that little fiend home! And tell him if he doesn't +return with her in less than half an hour, I'll break every bone in his +body! Go!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>Louis accordingly repaired to the kitchen and delivered the order to +poor Jupiter—who, bemoaning his hard fate in being obliged to serve so +whimsical a master, was forced to set out in the storm in search of the +capricious Gipsy.</p> + +<p>Half an hour, three-quarters passed, and then Jupiter, soaking with +rain, and reeking with sweat, came galloping back; but like young +Lochinvar, immortalized in the song:</p> + +<div class="poemblock34"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He rode unattended and rode all alone,"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>and gray, and shaking, and trembling with fear and expectation of the +"wrath which was to come," he presented himself before his master.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, where's Miss Gipsy?" shouted the old man, as he entered.</p> + +<p>"Mas'r, I couldn't bring her, to save my precious life; she wouldn't +come, nohow. I tell her you wanted her in a desprit hurry; and she said, +s'posin' you waited till your hurry was over. I said you tole me not to +come home 'thout her; and she said, very well, I might stay all night, +if I liked, 'cause she warn't comin' home till to-morrer. I tole her you +was t'arin' mad; and she said, you'd better have patience, and smoke +your pipe. I couldn't do nothin' 'tall with her, so I left, an' come +back, an' dat's all." And without waiting for the burst of wrath which +he saw coming, Jupiter beat a precipitate retreat to the lower regions.</p> + +<p>You should have seen the wrath of Squire Erliston then. How he stamped, +and raged, and swore, and threatened, until he nearly frightened Lizzie +into hysterics, used as she was to his fits of passion. And then, at +last, when utterly exhausted, he ordered the servants to go and prepare +a large, empty room, which had long been unused, as a prison for Gipsy, +upon her return.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> Everything was taken out of it, and here the squire +vowed she should remain until she had learned to obey him for the +future. Then, relapsing into sulky silence, he sat down, "nursing his +wrath to keep it warm," until the return of the little delinquent.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>MISS HAGAR.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let me gaze for a moment, that ere I die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may read thee, lady, a prophecy:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That brow may beam in glory awhile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cheek may bloom, and that lip may smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But clouds shall darken that brow of snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sorrows blight that bosom's glow."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">—<span class="smcap">L. Davison.</span></p> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_m.png" alt="M" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +eantime, while the squire was throwing the household of Sunset Hall +into terror and consternation, the object of his wrath was enjoying +herself with audacious coolness at Deep Dale.</p></div> + +<p>The family of Doctor Nicholas Wiseman consisted of one daughter, a year +or two older than Gipsy, a nephew called Archie Rivers, and a maiden +step-sister, Miss Hagar Dedley. The doctor, who was naturally grasping +and avaricious, would not have burdened himself with the care of those +two had it been anything out of his own pocket. The parents of Archie +Rivers had been tolerably wealthy, and at their death had left him quite +a fortune, and amply remunerated the doctor for taking charge of him +until he should be of age. Miss Hagar had a slender income, sufficient +for her wants, and was permitted a room<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> in his house as long as she +should continue to take care of herself.</p> + +<p>Deep Dale had once been the residence of a wealthy and aristocratic +family, but had by some unknown means passed from their hands to those +of Doctor Wiseman.</p> + +<p>It was, as its name implied, a long, deep, sloping dale, with the forest +of St. Mark's towering darkly behind, and a wide, grassy lawn sloping +down from the front. The house itself was a long, low, irregular mansion +of gray sandstone, with a quaint, pleasant, old-fashioned look.</p> + +<p>Evening was now approaching. The curtains were drawn, the lamps lighted, +and the family assembled in the plainly, almost scantily, furnished +sitting-room.</p> + +<p>By the fire, in a large leathern arm-chair, sat our old acquaintance, +the doctor, with one long, lean leg crossed over the other, one eye +closed, and the other fixed so intently on the floor that he seemed to +be counting the threads in the carpet. Years have done anything but add +to his charms, his face never looked so much like yellow parchment as it +did then, his arms and legs were longer and skinnier-looking than ever, +and altogether, a more unprepossessing face could hardly have been +discovered.</p> + +<p>By the table, knitting, sat Miss Hagar. Her tall, thin figure, and +grave, solemn face, made her look almost majestic, as, with her lips +firmly compressed, she knit away in grim silence. Unlike other +spinsters, she neither petted dogs nor cats, but had a most +unaccountable mania for fortune-telling, and had been, for years, the +seeress and sibyl of the whole neighborhood.</p> + +<p>In a distant corner of the room sat the little <i>protegee</i> of Miss Hagar, +with Gipsy on one side of her, and Archie Rivers on the other, regarding +her as though she were some sort of natural curiosity. And, truly, a +more lovely child could scarcely have been found.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>She appeared to be about the same age as Gipsy, but was taller and more +graceful, with a beautifully rounded figure, not plump, like that of +most children, but slender and elegant, and lithe as a willow wand. A +small, fair, sweet face, with long, golden hair, and soft, dreamy eyes +of blue, and a smile like an angel's.</p> + +<p>Such was Celeste!</p> + +<p>Such a contrast as she was to Gipsy, as she sat with her little white +hands folded in her lap, the long golden lashes falling shyly over the +blue eyes; her low, sweet voice and timid manner, so still and gentle; +and her elfish companion, with her dark, bright face, her eager, +sparkling, restless eyes, her short, sable locks, and her every motion +so quick and startling, as to make one nervous watching her.</p> + +<p>Archie Rivers, a merry, good-looking lad, with roguish blue eyes and a +laughing face, sat, alternately watching the fair, downcast face of +Celeste, and the piquant, gipsyish countenance of the other.</p> + +<p>At the table sat Minnette Wiseman, a proud, superb-looking girl of +twelve. Her long, jet-black hair fell in glossy braids over her +shoulders; her elbows rested on the table; her chin supported by her +hands; her large, glittering black eyes fixed on Celeste, with a look of +fixed dislike and jealousy that was never to die out during life.</p> + +<p>"And so you have no other name but Celeste," said Gipsy, trying to peer +under the drooping lashes resting on the blue-veined cheek. "Now, if +that isn't funny! Everybody has two names but you—even <i>me</i>. I have two +names."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Gipsy Gower. There is something odd and elfinish in the very +name," said Archie, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Elfinish? It's no such thing. It's a great deal prettier than yours, +Archie Rivers! And where did you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> live before you came here, Celeste?" +continued Gipsy, returning to the charge.</p> + +<p>"With Aunt Katie," replied Celeste, softly.</p> + +<p>"And where is she now?" went on Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Dead!" said the child, while her lip trembled, and a tear fell on the +little brown hand lying on her own.</p> + +<p>"Do tell! and I've made you cry, too. Now, if that ain't too bad. Do you +know, Celeste, I never cried in my life?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a fib!" exclaimed Archie. "You were the horridest young one to +cry ever I heard in my life. You did nothing but yell and roar from +morning till night."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" indignantly exclaimed Gipsy. +"I'm sure I was too sensible a baby to do anything of the kind. Anyway, +I have never cried since I can remember. And as to fear—were you ever +afraid?" she asked, suddenly, of Celeste.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—often."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever? Why, you look afraid now. Are you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"My! What of?"</p> + +<p>"Of <i>you</i>," said Celeste, shrinking back, shyly, from her impetuous +little questioner.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my stars and garters! Afraid of <i>me</i>, and after I've been so quiet +and good with her all the evening!" ejaculated Gipsy; while Archie, who +was blessed with a lively sense of the ridiculous, leaned back and +laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>"Well, after that I'm never going to believe there's anything but +ingratitude in <i>this</i> world," said Gipsy, with an emphasis on the +"<i>this</i>" which seemed to denote she <i>had</i> met with gratitude in +another.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>But tears filled the gentle eyes of Celeste, as she looked up, and said:</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope you're not angry with me. I didn't mean to offend you, I'm +sure. I'm <i>so</i> sorry."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's no matter. Nobody minds what they say to me. I'm used to it. +But it's so funny you should be afraid. Why, I never was afraid in my +life."</p> + +<p>"That's true enough, anyway," said Archie, with an assenting nod.</p> + +<p>"There's Guardy now. Oh! won't he be awful when I get home—but laws! +who cares! I'll pay him off for it, if he makes a fuss. I sha'n't be in +his debt long, that's one comfort."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember how dolefully Jupiter looked as he came in for you, all +dripping wet; and when you told him you wouldn't go, he——" and +overcome by the ludicrous recollection, Master Archie again fell back in +a paroxysm of laughter.</p> + +<p>"What a fellow you are to laugh, Archie!" remarked Gipsy. "You astonish +me, I declare. Do you laugh much, Celeste?"</p> + +<p>"No, not much."</p> + +<p>"That's right—I don't laugh much either—I'm too dignified, you know; +but somehow I make other people laugh. There's Archie now, for +everlasting laughing; but Minnette—do you know I never saw her laugh +yet—that is, really laugh. She smiles sometimes; not a pleasant smile +either, but a scornful smile like. I say, Minnette," she added, raising +her voice, "what is the reason you never laugh?"</p> + +<p>"None of your business," rudely replied Minnette.</p> + +<p>"The Lord never intended her face for a smiling one," said Miss Hagar, +breaking in, suddenly. "And you, you poor little wild eaglet, who, a +moment ago, boasted you had never wept, you shall yet shed tears of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +blood. The bird has its eyes put out with red-hot iron before it can be +made to sing sweetly; and so you, too, poor bird, must be blinded, even +though you should flutter and beat yourself to death, trying to break +through the bars of your cage."</p> + +<p>"Humph! I'd like to see them trying to put my eyes out," said Gipsy. "I +guess I'd make them sing, and on the wrong side of their mouths, too—at +least, I think I should!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Hagar, tell us our fortunes—you haven't done so this long +time," exclaimed Archie, jumping up. "Here is Gipsy wants to know hers, +and Celeste's, too; and as for me, I know the future must have something +splendid in store for so clever a fellow, and I'm anxious to know it +beforehand."</p> + +<p>"Don't be too anxious," said Miss Hagar, fixing her gloomy eyes +prophetically on his eager, happy face; "troubles are soon enough when +they come, without wishing to forestall them."</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss Hagar, you don't mean to say I'm to have troubles?" cried +Archie, laughing. "If they do come, I'll laugh in their face, and cry, +'Never surrender.' I don't believe, though, my troubles will be very +heavy."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the heaviest troubles that man can ever know shall be thine," said +the oracle, in her deep, gloomy voice. "The day will come when despair, +instead of laughter, will fill your beaming eyes; when the smile shall +have left your lip, and the hue of health will give place to the dusky +glow of the grave. Yes, the day will come when the wrong you may not +quell shall cling to you like a garment of flame, crushing and +overwhelming you and all you love, in its fiery, burning shame. The day +will come when one for whom you would give your life shall desert you +for your deadliest enemy, and leave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> you to despair and woe. Such is the +fate I have read in the stars for you."</p> + +<p>"La! Archie, what a nice time you're going to have," said the +incorrigible Gipsy, breaking the impressive silence that followed the +sibyl's words—"when all that comes to pass! It will be as good as a +play to you."</p> + +<p>"Miss Hagar must have sat up all last night getting that pretty speech +by heart," said Minnette, fixing her mocking black eyes on the face of +the spinster. "How well she repeated it! She'd make her fortune on the +stage as a tragedy queen."</p> + +<p>"Scoffer!" said the sibyl, turning her prophetic eyes on the deriding +face of the speaker, while her face darkened, and her stern mouth grew +sterner still. "One day that iron heart of thine shall melt; that heart, +which, as yet, is sealed with granite, shall feel every fiber drawn out +by the roots, to be cast at your feet quivering and bleeding, unvalued +and uncared for. Come hither, and let me read your future in your eyes."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" said Minnette, shaking back, scornfully, her glossy black +hair. "Prate your old prophecies to the fools who believe you. I'll not +be among the number."</p> + +<p>"Unbeliever, I heed it not!" said Miss Hagar as she rose slowly to her +feet; and the light of inspiration gathered in her eyes of gray, as, +swaying to and fro, she chanted, in a wild, dirge-like tone:</p> + +<div class="poemblock34"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Beware! beware! for the time will come—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A blighted heart, a ruined home.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dim future I foresee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fate far worse than death for thee."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Her eyes were still riveted on the deriding face and bold, bright eyes, +that, in spite of all their boldness, quailed before her steady gaze.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good-gracious, Miss Hagar, if you haven't nearly frightened this little +atomy into fits!" said Gipsy. "I declare, of all the little cowards ever +was, she's the greatest! Now, if I thought it wouldn't scare the life +out of her, I'd have my fortune told. If everybody else is going to have +such pretty things happen to them, I don't see why I shouldn't, too."</p> + +<p>"Come here, then, and let me read thy fate," said Miss Hagar. "The +spirit is upon me to-night, and it may never come more."</p> + +<p>"All right. Archie, stop grinning and 'tend this little scary thing. +Now, go ahead, Miss Hagar."</p> + +<p>The seeress looked down solemnly into the dark, piquant little face +upturned so gravely to her own; into the wicked brown eyes, twinkling +and glittering with such insufferable mischief and mirth; and, bending +her tall body down, she again chanted, in her dreary tone:</p> + +<div class="poemblock48"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thou wast doomed from thy birth, oh, ill-fated child;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like thy birthnight, thy life shall be stormy and wild;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is blood on thine hand, there is death in thine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the one who best loves thee, <i>by thee shall he die</i>!"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>"Whew! if that ain't pleasant! I always knew I'd be the death of +somebody!" exclaimed Gipsy. "Wonder who it is going to be? Shouldn't be +s'prised if 'twas Jupiter. I've been threatening to send him to Jericho +ever since I can remember. La! if it comes true, won't Minette, and +Archie and I be in a 'state of mind' one of these days! I say, Celeste, +come over here, and let's have a little more of the horrible. I begin to +like it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, go, Celeste, go," said Archie, lifting her off her seat.</p> + +<p>But Celeste, with a stifled cry of terror, covered her face with her +hands, and shrank back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Coward!" exclaimed Minnette, with a scornful flash of her black eyes.</p> + +<p>"Little goose!" said Gipsy, rather contemptuously; "what are you afraid +of? Go! it won't hurt you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no!—no, no!—no, no!" cried the child, crouching farther back +in terror. "It's too dreadful. I can't listen to such awful things."</p> + +<p>"Let her stay," said Miss Hagar, seating herself moodily. "Time enough +for her—poor, trembling dove!—to know the future when its storm-clouds +gather darkly over her head. Let her alone. One day you may all think of +my words to-night."</p> + +<p>"There! there! don't make a fool of yourself any longer, Hagar," +impatiently broke in the doctor. "Leave the little simpletons in peace, +and don't bother their brains with such stuff."</p> + +<p>"Stuff!" repeated Miss Hagar, her eyes kindling with indignation. "Take +care; lest I tell <i>you</i> a fate more awful still. I speak as I am +inspired; and no mortal man shall hinder me."</p> + +<p>"Well, croak away," said her brother, angrily, "but never again in my +presence. I never knew such an old fool!" he muttered to himself in a +lower tone.</p> + +<p>He started back almost in terror, as he ceased; for standing by his +side, with her eyes fairly blazing upon him with a wild, intense gaze, +was the elfish Gipsy. She looked so like some golden sprite—so small +and dark, with such an insufferable light in her burning eyes—that he +actually shrank in superstitious terror from her.</p> + +<p>Without a word, she glided away, and joined Archie in the corner, who +was doing his best to cheer and amuse the timid Celeste.</p> + +<p>During the rest of the evening, Gipsy was unusually silent and still; +and her little face would at times wear a puzzled, thoughtful look, all +unused to it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What in the world's got into you, Gipsy?" asked Archie, at length, in +surprise. "What are you looking so solemn about?"</p> + +<p>"Archie," she said, looking up solemnly in his face, "am I <i>possessed</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Possessed! Why, yes, I should say you were—possessed by the very +spirit of mischief!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Archie, it's not that. Don't you know it tells in the Bible about +people being possessed with demons? Now, Archie, do you think I am?"</p> + +<p>"What a question! No; of course not, you little goose. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because when <i>he</i>," pointing to the doctor, "said what he did, I just +felt as if something within me was forcing me to catch him by the throat +and kill him. And, Archie, I could hardly keep from doing it; and I do +believe I'm possessed."</p> + +<p>This answer seemed to Master Archie so comical that he went off into +another roar of laughter; and in the midst of it, he rolled off his seat +upon the floor—which event added to his paroxysm of delight.</p> + +<p>The doctor growled out certain anathemas at this ill-timed mirth, and +ordered Master Rivers off to bed. Then Miss Hagar folded up her work, +and taking Celeste with her, sought her own room, where a little +trundle-bed had been prepared for the child. And Minnette—who, much +against her will, was to share her room with Gipsy, for whom she had no +particular love—got up and lit the night-lamp, and, followed, by the +willful fay, betook herself to rest.</p> + +<p>The next morning dawned clear, sunshiny and bright. Immediately after +breakfast, Gipsy mounted Mignonne, and set out to encounter the storm +which she knew awaited her at Sunset Hall.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>GIPSY OUTWITS THE SQUIRE.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then on his cheek the flush of rage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'ercame the ashen hue of age;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fierce he broke forth; 'And dar'st thou, then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To beard the lion in his den,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Douglas in his hall?'"—<span class="smcap">Marmion.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_g.png" alt="G" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +ipsy rode along, singing gayly, and thinking, with an inward chuckle, +of the towering rage which "Guardy" must be in. As she entered the yard +she encountered Jupiter, who looked upon her with eyes full of fear and +warning.</p></div> + +<p>"Hallo, Jupe! I see you haven't 'shuffled off this mortal coil' yet, as +Louis says. I suppose you got a blowing up last night, for coming home +without me, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Roarer, honey, for mussy sake, don't 'front mas'r to-day," +exclaimed Jupiter, with upraised hands and eyes; "dar's no tellin' what +he might do, chile. I 'vises you to go to bed an' say you's sick, or +somefin, caze he'd jes' as lief kill you as not, he's so t'arin' mad."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, you old simpleton! Do you think I'd tell such a lie? Let him +rage; I'll rage too, and keep him in countenance."</p> + +<p>"Miss Roarer, if you does, dar'll be bloodshed, and den I'll be took up +for all—I knows dar will," said poor Jupiter, in a whimpering tone. +"Dis comes' o' livin' with ladies what ain't ladies, and old gen'lemen +what's got de old boy's temper in dem."</p> + +<p>"Why, you old good-for-nothing, do you mean to say I'm not a lady!" +exclaimed Gipsy, indignantly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Jes' so, Miss Roarer, I don't care ef yer does whip me—dar! S'pose a +lady, a <i>real</i> lady, would go for to shoot a poor nigger what ain't a +doing no harm to nobody, or go ridin' out all hours ob de night as <i>you</i> +do. No! stands to reason, dey wouldn't, an' dat's de trufe now, ef I +<i>is</i> a good-for-nothin'. Dar!"</p> + +<p>"You aggravating old Jupiter, you, I'll <i>dar</i> you if you give me any +more of your impudence," said Gipsy, flourishing her whip over her head.</p> + +<p>"Miss Roarer," began Jupiter, adroitly ducking his head to avoid a blow.</p> + +<p>"Silence, sir! Don't 'Miss Roarer' me. Keep your advice till it's called +for, and take Mignonne off to the stables, an' rub him down well; and if +you leave one speck of dust on him, I'll leave you to guess what I'll do +to you." And so saying, Gipsy gathered up her riding-habit in her hand, +and ran up the broad step, singing at the top of her voice:</p> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh! whistle and I'll come to you, my lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! whistle and I'll come to you, my lad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Guardy and aunty, an' a' should go mad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just whistle an' I'll come to you, my lad."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>"Gipsy, Gipsy, hush, child! Your guardian is dreadfully angry with you, +and will punish you very severely, I'm afraid," said Mrs. Gower, +suddenly appearing from the dining-room. "This reckless levity will make +matters worse if he hears you. Oh, Gipsy, how could you do such an +outrageous thing?"</p> + +<p>"La, aunty! I haven't done any 'outrageous thing' that I know of."</p> + +<p>"Oh, child! you know it was very wrong, <i>very</i> wrong, of you, indeed, to +stay at Deep Dale all night against his express commands."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now, aunty, I don't see anything very wrong at all about it. I only +wanted to have a little fun."</p> + +<p>"Fun! Oh! you provoking little goose! he'll punish you very severely, +I'm certain."</p> + +<p>"Well, let him, then. I don't care. I'll pay him off for it some +time—see if I don't. What do you s'pose he'll do to me, aunty? Have me +tried by court-martial, or hold a coroner's inquest on top of me, or +what?"</p> + +<p>"He is going to lock you up in that old lumber-room, up in the attic, +and keep you there on bread and water, he says."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I'll leave it to everybody, if that isn't barbarous. It's +just the way the stony-hearted fathers in the story-books do to their +daughters, when they fall in love, and then their beaus come, filled +with love and rope-ladders, and off they go through the window. I say, +aunty, is there any chance for me to get through the window?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, they are fastened outside with wooden shutters and iron +bolts. There is no chance of escape, so you had best be very good and +penitent, and beg his pardon, and perhaps he may forgive you."</p> + +<p>"Beg his pardon! Ha! ha! ha! aunty, I like that, wouldn't Archie laugh +if he heard it. Just fancy <i>me</i>, Gipsy Gower, down on my knees before +him, whimpering and snuffling, and a tear in each eye, like a small +potato, and begging his serene highness to forgive me, and I'll never do +it again. Oh! goodness gracious, just fancy what a scene it would be!"</p> + +<p>"You provoking little minx! I am sure any other little girl would beg +her guardian's pardon, when she knew she did wrong."</p> + +<p>"But I <i>don't</i> know that I've did wrong. On the contrary, I know I've +did <i>right</i>; and I'm going to do it over again, the first +chance—there!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy!—child—you are perfectly incorrigible. I despair of ever +being able to do anything with you. As I told you before, I shouldn't be +surprised if your guardian turned you out of doors for your conduct."</p> + +<p>"And as I told <i>you</i> before, aunty, I would not want better fun. Archie +Rivers is going to West Point soon, and I'll go with him, and 'do my +country some service' in the next war."</p> + +<p>"If he turned you out, Gipsy, it would break my heart," said Mrs. Gower, +plaintively.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I suppose it would break mine too, but I luckily don't happen +to have a heart," said Gipsy, who never by any chance could, as she +called it, "do the sentimental." "However, aunty, let's live in the +sublime hope that you'll break the necks of two or three hundred +chickens and geese, before you break your own heart yet. And I protest, +here comes Guardy, stamping and fuming up the lawn. Clear out, aunty, +for I expect he'll hurl the whole of the Proverbs of Solomon at my head, +and one of 'em might chance to hit you. Go, aunty, I want to fight my +own battles; and if I don't come off with drums beating and colors +flying, it'll be a caution! Hooray!"</p> + +<p>And Gipsy waved her plumed hat above her head, and whirled round the +room in a defiant waltz.</p> + +<p>She was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of the squire, who, +thrusting both hands into his coat pockets, stood flaming with rage +before her; whereupon Gipsy, plunging her hands into the pockets of her +riding-habit, planted both feet firmly on the ground, and confronted him +with a dignified frown, and an awful expression of countenance +generally, and to his amazement, burst out with:</p> + +<p>"You unprincipled, abandoned, benighted, befuddled old gentleman! how +dare you have the impudence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> the effrontery, the brazenness, the +impertinence, the—the—everything-else! to show your face to me after +your outrageous, your unheard-of, your monstrous, your—yes, I will say +it—diabolical conduct yesterday! Yes, sir! I repeat it, sir—I'm amazed +at your effrontery, after sending a poor, unfortunate, friendless, +degenerate son of Africa through the tremendous rain, the roaring +lightning, the flashing thunder, the silent winds, in search of me, to +stand there, looking no more ashamed of yourself than if you weren't a +fair blot on the foul face of creation! Answer me, old gentleman, and +forever afterward hold thy peace!"</p> + +<p>"You abominable little wretch! You incarnate little fiend, you! You +impish little imp, you! I'll thrash you within an inch of your life!" +roared the old man, purple with rage.</p> + +<p>"Look out, Guardy, you'll completely founder the English language, if +you don't take care," interrupted Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"You impudent little vixen! I'll make you repent yesterday's conduct," +thundered the squire, catching her by the shoulder and shaking her till +she was breathless.</p> + +<p>"Loo—loo—look here, old gentleman, do—do—don't you try that again!" +stuttered Gipsy, panting for breath, and wrenching herself, by a +powerful jerk, free from his grasp.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you come home when I sent for you? Answer me that, or I +won't leave a sound bone in your body. Now, then!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Guardy, to tell the truth, it was because I didn't choose to. +Now, then!"</p> + +<p>"You—you—you incomparable little impudence, I'll fairly murder you!" +shouted the squire, raising his hand in his rage to strike her a blow, +which would assuredly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> have killed her; but Gipsy adroitly dodged, and +his hand fell with stunning force on the hall table.</p> + +<p>With something between a howl and a yell, he started after her as she +ran screaming with laughter; and seizing her in a corner, where she had +sunk down exhausted and powerless with her inward convulsions, he shook +her until he could shake her no longer.</p> + +<p>"I'll lock you up! I'll turn you out of doors! I'll thrash you while I +am able to stand over you! No, I won't thrash a woman in my own house, +but I'll lock you up and starve you to death. I'll be hanged if I +don't!"</p> + +<p>"You'll be hanged if you do, you mean."</p> + +<p>"Come along; we'll see what effect hunger and solitary confinement will +have on your high spirits, my lady," said the squire, seizing her by the +arm and dragging her along.</p> + +<p>"Guardy, if you do, my ghost'll haunt you every night, just as sure as +shooting," said Gipsy, solemnly.</p> + +<p>"What do I care about you or your ghost! Come along. 'The unrighteous +shall not live out half their days,' as Solomon says; therefore it's +according to Scripture, and no fault of mine if you don't live long."</p> + +<p>"Solomon was never locked up in a garret," said Gipsy, thrusting her +knuckles in her eyes and beginning to sob, "and he don't know anything +about it. It's real hateful of you to lock me up—now! But it's just +like you, you always were an ugly old wretch every way." Sob, sob, sob.</p> + +<p>"That's right, talk away! You can talk and scold as much as you like to +the four bare walls presently," said the squire, dragging her along.</p> + +<p>"You're a hateful old monster! I wish you were far enough—I just do! +and I don't care if I'm taken up for defamation of character—so, there! +Boo, hoo—a hoo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>—a hoo," sobbed, and wept, and scolded Gipsy, as the +squire, inwardly chuckling, led her to her place of captivity.</p> + +<p>They reached it at length; a large empty room without a single article +of furniture, even without a chair. It was quite dark, too, for the +windows were both nailed up, and the room was situated in the remotest +portion of the building, where, let poor Gipsy cry and scream as she +pleased, she could not be heard.</p> + +<p>On entering her prison, Gipsy ceased her sobs for a moment to glance +around, and her blank look of dismay at the aspect of her prison, threw +the squire into a fit of laughter.</p> + +<p>"So," he chuckled, "you're caught at last. Now, here you may stay till +night, and I hope by that time I'll have taken a little of the mischief +out of you."</p> + +<p>"And I'll have nothing to pass the time," wept Gipsy. "Mayn't I go down +stairs and get a book?"</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! ha! No. I rather think you mayn't. Perhaps I may bring you up +one by and by," said the squire, never stopping to think how Gipsy was +to read in the dark.</p> + +<p>"Look up there on that shelf, I can't reach; there's one, I think," said +Gipsy, whose keen eye had caught sight of an old newspaper lying on the +spot indicated.</p> + +<p>The squire made a step forward to reach it, and like an arrow sped from +a bow, at the same instant, Gipsy darted across the room, out through +the open door. Ere the squire could turn round, he heard the door slam +to, and he was caught in his own trap, while a triumphant shout, a +delighted "hurrah!" reached his ear from without.</p> + +<p>The squire rushed frantically to the door, and shook, and pulled, and +swore, and threatened and shouted, to all of which Gipsy answered by +tantalizingly asking him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> whether he'd come out now, or wait till she +let him. Then, finding threats of no avail, he betook himself to +coaxing; and wheedled, and persuaded, and promised, and flattered, but +equally in vain, for Gipsy replied that she wouldn't if she could, +couldn't if she would, for that she had thrown the key as far as she +could pitch it, out of the window, among the shrubs in the +garden—where, as she wasn't in the habit of looking for needles in +hay-stacks, she thought it quite useless searching for it; and ended by +delivering him a lecture on the virtue of patience and the beauty of +Christian resignation. And after exhorting him to improve his temper, if +possible, during his confinement, as she was going over to spend the day +at Dr. Spider's and teach Miss Hagar's little girl to ride, she went off +and left him, stamping, and swearing, and foaming, in a manner quite +awful to listen to.</p> + +<p>True to her word, Gipsy privately sought the stables, saddled Mignonne +herself, and rode off, without being observed, to spend the day at Deep +Dale. The absence of the squire was noticed; but it was supposed he had +ridden off on business after locking up Gipsy, and therefore it created +no surprise. As he had positively forbidden any one in the house to go +near her prison, no one went; and it was only when Gipsy returned home +late at night that she learned, to her surprise and alarm, he had not +yet been liberated. The door was forced open by Jupiter, and the squire +was found lying on the floor, having raged himself into a state that +quite prevented him from "murdering" Gipsy as he had threatened. Two or +three days elapsed before "Richard" became "himself again;" and night +and day Gipsy hovered over his bedside—the quietest, the most attentive +little nurse that ever was seen, quite unalarmed by his throwing the +pillow, the gruel and pill-boxes at her head every time she appeared in +his sight.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>THE TIGRESS AND THE DOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock28"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, wanton malice—deathful sport—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could ye not spare my all?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mark my words, on thy cold heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A fiery doom shall fall."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_i.png" alt="I" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +n the golden glow of the morning, Minnette Wiseman stood at the door, +gazing out—not watching the radiant beauties of nature—not listening +to the sweet singing of the birds—not watching the waves flashing and +glittering in the sunlight—but nursing her own dark, fathomless +thoughts.</p></div> + +<p>From the first moment of the coming of Celeste she had hated her, with a +deep, intense hatred, that was destined to be the one ruling passion of +her life. She was jealous of her beauty, angry to see her so petted and +caressed by every one, but too proud to betray it.</p> + +<p>Pride and jealousy were her predominant passions; you could see them in +the haughty poise of her superb little head, in the dusky fire +smoldering in her glittering black eyes, in the scornful, curling upper +lip, in the erect carriage and proud step. In spite of her beauty no one +seemed to like Minnette, and she liked no one.</p> + +<p>Among her schoolmates her superior talents won their admiration, but her +eagle ambition to surpass them all soon turned admiration into dislike. +But Minnette went haughtily on her way, living in the unknown world of +her dark, sullen thoughts, despising both them and the love she might +have won.</p> + +<p>A week had passed since the coming of Celeste.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> Miss Hagar, feeling she +was not competent to undertake the instruction of such a shy, sensitive +little creature, wished to send her to school. The school to which +Minnette and Gipsy went (sometimes) was two miles distant, and taught by +the Sisters of Charity. Miss Hagar would have sent her there, but there +was no one she could go with. She mentioned this difficulty to her +brother.</p> + +<p>"Can't she go with Minnette?" said the latter, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"No, she sha'n't," said the amiable Minnette. "I'll have no such +whimpering cry-baby tagging after me. Let Madam Hagar go with her +darling herself if she likes."</p> + +<p>"Just what I expected from you," said Miss Hagar, looking gloomingly in +the sullen face before her. "If the Lord doesn't punish you one day for +your hatred and hard-heartedness, it'll be because some of his creatures +will do it for him. Take my word for it."</p> + +<p>"I don't care for you or your threats," said Minnette, angrily; "and I +<i>do</i> hate your pet, old Miss Hagar, and I'll make everybody else hate +her if I can, too."</p> + +<p>"Minnette, hold your tongue," called her father, angry at being +interrupted in his reading.</p> + +<p>Minnette left the room, first casting a glance full of dislike and +contempt on Celeste, who sat in a remote corner, her hands over her +face, while the tears she struggled bravely to suppress fell in bright +drops through her taper fingers. Sob after sob swelled the bosom of the +sensitive child, on whose gentle heart the cruel words of Minnette had +fallen with crushing weight. Dr. Wiseman, after a few moments, too, left +the room, and Celeste, in her dark corner, wept unseen and uncared for.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a light footstep entering the room startled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> her. Her hands +were gently removed from her tear-stained face, while a spirited voice +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Hallo! Sissy! what's the matter? Has that kite-heart, Minnette, been +mocking you?"</p> + +<p>"No-o-o!" faltered Celeste, looking up through her tears into the bright +face of Archie Rivers.</p> + +<p>"What's the case, then? Something's wrong, I know. Tell me, like a good +little girl, and I'll see if I can't help you," said Archie, resolutely +retaining the hands with which she struggled to cover her face.</p> + +<p>"Miss Hagar wants to send me to school, and I've no one to go with. +Minnette doesn't like to be troubled with——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see it all! Minnette's been showing her angelic temper, and won't +let you go with her, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-e-es," sobbed Celeste, trying bravely not to cry.</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind, birdie! I have to pass the Sisters' school every day +on my way to the academy, and I'll take care of you, if you'll go with +me. Will you?" he said, looking doubtfully into her little, shrinking +face.</p> + +<p>"I—I think so," said Celeste, rather hesitatingly. "I will be a +trouble, though, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"Not you!" exclaimed Archie, gayly. "I'll be your true knight and +champion now, and by and by you'll be my little wife. Won't you?"</p> + +<p>"No-o-o, I don't like to," said Celeste, timidly.</p> + +<p>Archie seemed to think this answer so remarkably funny that he gave way +to a perfect shout of laughter. Then, perceiving the sensitive little +creature on the verge of crying again, he stopped short by an effort, +and said, apologetically:</p> + +<p>"There! don't cry, sis: I wasn't laughing at you. I say, Miss Hagar," he +added, springing abruptly to his feet as that ancient lady entered, +"mayn't I bring Celeste<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> to school? I'll 'tend to her as carefully as if +she was my daughter. See if I don't."</p> + +<p>A grim sort of smile relaxed the rigid muscles of Miss Hagar's iron face +as she glanced benignly at his merry, thoughtless face over the top of +her spectacles.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she may go with you, and the Lord will bless you for your good, +kind heart," she said, laying her hand fondly on his curly head.</p> + +<p>Archie, throwing up his cap in the exuberance of his glee, said:</p> + +<p>"Run and get ready, sis, and come along."</p> + +<p>"No; wait until to-morrow," said Miss Hagar. "She cannot go to-day."</p> + +<p>"All right; to-morrow, then, you've to make your <i>debut</i> in the school +of St. Mark's. I say, Miss Hagar, what shall we call her? not your +name—Dedley's too dismal."</p> + +<p>"No; call her Pearl—she <i>is</i> a pearl," said Miss Hagar, while her voice +became as gentle as <i>such</i> a voice could.</p> + +<p>"Very well, Celeste. Pearl then be it. And so, Celeste, be ready bright +and early to-morrow morning, and we'll go by Sunset Hall, and call for +Gipsy and Louis. By the way, you haven't seen Louis yet, have you?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Celeste.</p> + +<p>"Oh, then, you must see him, decidedly, to-morrow. But mind, you mustn't +go and like him better than you do me, because he's better-looking. I +tell you what, little sis, he's a capital fellow, and <i>so</i> clever; he's +ahead of every fellow in the academy, and beats <i>me</i> all to smash, +because I'm not clever at anything except riding and shooting, and I'm +his equal in those branches. So now I'm off—good-bye!"</p> + +<p>And with a spring and a jump, Archie was out of the room and dashing +along the road at a tremendous rate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>The next morning Celeste, with a beating heart, set out with Archie for +school. How pretty she looked in her white muslin dress, her white +sunbonnet covering her golden curls—a perfect little pearl!</p> + +<p>Archie, having paid her a shower of compliments, took her by the hand +and set out with her for Sunset Hall. At the gate Celeste halted, and no +persuasions could induce her to enter.</p> + +<p>"No, no; I'll wait here until you come back. Please let me," she said, +pleadingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, then, I won't be long," said Archie, rushing frantically up +the lawn and bursting like a whirlwind into the hall door.</p> + +<p>In a few moments he reappeared, accompanied by Louis.</p> + +<p>"Look, old fellow! there she is at the gate. Isn't she a beauty?" said +Archie.</p> + +<p>Louis stopped and gazed, transfixed by the radiant vision before him. In +her floating, snowy robes, golden hair, her sweet, angel-like face, on +which the morning sunshine rested like a glory, she was indeed lovely, +bewildering, dazzling.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful! how radiant! how splendid! Archie, she is as pretty as +an angel!" burst forth Louis, impetuously.</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha ha! a decided case of love at first sight. Come along and I'll +introduce you," exclaimed Archie.</p> + +<p>Having presented the admiring Louis to Celeste, who, after the first shy +glance, never raised her eyes, he informed her that Gipsy had gone out +riding early in the morning, and they were forced to go without her.</p> + +<p>"Celeste, you must sit to me for your portrait," said Louis, +impulsively, as they walked along.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Celeste, shrinking closer to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> Archie, whom she had +learned to trust in like an old friend.</p> + +<p>"I'm sketching the 'Madonna in the Temple' for Sister Mary, and your +sweet, holy, calm face will do exactly for a model," said Louis.</p> + +<p>"That's a compliment, sis," said Archie, pinching her cheek; "you'd +better sit. Hallo! if that isn't Gipsy's bugle! And here she comes, as +usual, flying like the wind. If she doesn't break her neck some day, it +will be a wonder."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, the clear, sweet notes of a bugle resounded musically among +the hills above them; and the next moment the spirited little Arabian, +Mignonne, came dashing at a break-neck pace down the rocks, with Gipsy +on his back, a fowling-piece slung over her shoulder, and sitting her +horse as easily as though she were in an easy-chair. With a wild +"tally-ho!" she cleared a yawning chasm at a bound, and reined her horse +in so suddenly that he nearly fell back on his haunches. The next +instant she was beside them, laughing at Celeste, who clung, pale with +fear, to Archie.</p> + +<p>"What luck this morning, Diana?" exclaimed Archie.</p> + +<p>"Pretty well for two hours. Look!" said Gipsy, displaying a well-filled +game-bag.</p> + +<p>"Did you kill those birds?" inquired Celeste, lifting her eyes in fear, +not unmixed with horror, to the sparkling face of the young huntress.</p> + +<p>"To be sure! There! don't look so horror-struck. I declare if the little +coward doesn't look as if she thought me a demon," said Gipsy, laughing +at Celeste's sorrowful face. "Look! do you see that bird away up there, +like a speck in the sky? Well, now watch me bring it down;" and Gipsy, +fixing her eagle eye on the distant speck, took deliberate aim.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, don't—don't!" cried Celeste, in an agony of terror; but ere the +words were well uttered, they were lost in the sharp crack of her little +rifle.</p> + +<p>Wounded and bleeding, the bird began rapidly to fall, and, with a wild +shriek, Celeste threw up her arms, and fell to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Good gracious! if I haven't scared the life out of Celeste!" exclaimed +Gipsy, in dismay, as Archie raised her, pale and trembling, in his arms.</p> + +<p>"What a timid little creature!" thought Louis, as he watched her, +clinging convulsively to Archie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the bird! the poor bird!" said Celeste, bursting into tears.</p> + +<p>Gipsy laughed outright, and pointing to a tree near at hand, said:</p> + +<p>"There, Louis, the bird has lodged in that tree; go and get it for her."</p> + +<p>Louis darted off to search the tree, and Gipsy, stooping down, said, +rather impatiently:</p> + +<p>"Now, Celeste, don't be such a little goose! What harm is it to shoot a +bird?—everybody does it."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it's right; it's so cruel. Please don't do it any more," +said Celeste, pleadingly.</p> + +<p>"Can't promise, dear? <i>I</i> must do something to keep me out of mischief. +But here comes Louis. Well, is it dead?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Louis, "but badly wounded. However, I'll take care of it; and +if it recovers, Celeste, you shall have it for a pet."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you! you're <i>so</i> good," said Celeste, giving him such a +radiant look of gratitude that it quite overcame the gravity of Master +Rivers, who fell back, roaring with laughter.</p> + +<p>Celeste and Gipsy stood a little apart, conversing, and the boys sat +watching them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I say, Louis, what do you think of her?" said Archie, pointing to +Celeste.</p> + +<p>"I think she is perfectly bewitching—the loveliest creature I ever +beheld," replied Louis, regarding her with the eye of an artist. "She +reminds me of a lily—a dove, so fair, and white, and gentle."</p> + +<p>"And Gipsy, what does <i>she</i> remind you of?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! of a young Amazon, or a queen eaglet of the mountains, so wild and +untamed."</p> + +<p>"And Minnette, what is she like?"</p> + +<p>"Like a tigress, more than anything else I can think of just now," said +Louis, laughing; "beautiful, but rather dangerous when aroused."</p> + +<p>"Aroused! I don't think she could be aroused, she is made of marble."</p> + +<p>"Not she. As Miss Hagar says, the day will come when she will, she must +feel; every one does sometime in his life. What does Scott say:</p> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Hearts are not flint, and flints are rent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearts are not steel, and steel is bent.'"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>"Well, if you take to poetry, you'll keep us here all day," said Archie, +rising. "Good-bye, Gipsy; come along Celeste!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>True to promise, Louis adopted the wounded bird; and under his skillful +hands it soon recovered and was presented to Celeste. She would have set +it free, but Louis said: "No; keep it for my sake, Celeste." And so +Celeste kept it; and no words can tell how she grew to love that bird. +It hung in a cage in her chamber, and her greatest pleasure was in +attending it. Minnette hated the very sight of it. That it belonged to +Celeste would have been enough to make her hate it; but added<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> to that, +it had been given her by Louis Oranmore, the only living being Minnette +had ever tried to please; and jealousy added tenfold to her hatred.</p> + +<p>Seeing the bird hanging, one day, out in the sunshine, she opened the +cage-door, and, with the most fiendish and deliberate malice, twisted +its neck, and then, going to Celeste, pointed to it with malignant +triumph sparkling in her bold, black eyes.</p> + +<p>Poor Celeste! She took the dead and mangled body of her pretty favorite +in her lap, and sitting down, wept the bitterest tears she had ever shed +in her life. Let no one smile at her childish grief; who has been +without them? I remember distinctly the saddest tears that ever I shed +were over the remains of a beloved kitten, stoned to death. And through +all the troubles of after years, that first deep grief never was +forgotten.</p> + +<p>While she was still sobbing as if her heart would break, a pair of +strong arms were thrown around her, and the eager, handsome face of +Louis was bending over her.</p> + +<p>"Why, Celeste, what in the world are all those tears for?" he inquired, +pushing the disheveled golden hair off her wet cheek.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis, my bird! my poor bird!" she cried, hiding her face on his +shoulder, in a fresh burst of grief.</p> + +<p>"What! it's dead, is it?" said Louis, taking it up. "Did the cat get at +it?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; it wasn't the cat; it was—it was——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Who?</i>" said Louis, while his dark eyes flashed. "Did any one dare to +kill it? Did Minnette, that young tigress——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis! don't, don't! You mustn't call her such dreadful names!" +said Celeste, placing her hand over his mouth. "I don't think she meant +it; don't be angry with her, please; it's so dreadful!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You little angel!" he said, smoothing gently her fair hair; "no, for +your sake I'll not. Never mind, don't cry; I'll get you another, twice +as pretty as that!"</p> + +<p>"No, Louis; I don't want any more! I'd rather have the dear birds free! +And now, will you—will you bury poor birdie?" said Celeste, almost +choking in her effort to be "good and not cry."</p> + +<p>"Yes; here's a nice spot, under the rose-bush," said Louis; "and I'll +get a tombstone and write a nice epitaph. And you must console yourself +with the belief that it's happy in the bird's heaven, if there is such a +place," added Louis, as he placed poor "Birdie" in its last +resting-place.</p> + +<p>Half an hour after, Celeste sought the presence of Minnette. She found +her sitting by the window, her chin resting on her hand, as was her +habit, gazing out. She did not turn round as Celeste entered; but the +latter went up softly, and, placing her hand on hers, said gently:</p> + +<p>"Minnette, I'm afraid you're angry with me? I'm very sorry; please +forgive me?"</p> + +<p>Minnette shook her roughly off, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Don't bother me, you little whining thing! Go out of this!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but only say you forgive me, first! Indeed, indeed, Minnette, I +didn't mean to offend you. I want to love you, if you'll let me!"</p> + +<p>"Love!" exclaimed Minnette, springing fiercely to her feet, her black +eyes gleaming like fire. "You artful little hypocrite! You consummate +little cheat? Don't talk to me of love! Didn't I see you in the garden, +with your arms around Louis Oranmore, in a way for which you ought to be +ashamed of yourself—complaining to him of my wickedness and cruelty in +killing the bird he gave you. And yet, after turning him against me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +you come here, and tell me you love me! Begone, you miserable little +beggar! I hate the very sight of you!"</p> + +<p>Her face was convulsed with passion. With a cry of terror, Celeste fled +from the room to weep alone in her own chamber, while Minnette sat by +the window, watching the stars come out in their splendor, one by one, +with the germs of that jealousy taking deep root in her soul, that would +grow and bear fruit for evermore!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>GIPSY ASTONISHES THE NATIVES.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock30"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What mighty mischief glads her now?"</span> +</div></div></div> +<p style="margin-left: 60%;"><span class="smcap">Fire Worshipers.</span></p> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_a.png" alt="A" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +mong the villagers of St. Mark's, the mad-headed, wild-eyed, fearless +Gipsy Gower was a universal favorite. Not one among them but had +received from her warm heart and generous hand some service. The squire +furnished his "imp" plentifully with pocket-money, which was invariably +bestowed with careless generosity upon the poor of the parish; but given +in a way that precluded all thanks. Sometimes the door would be thrust +open with such violence as to wake the inmates, thinking a troop of +horse was about to favor them with a visit, and her purse flung into the +middle of the floor; and away she would ride like a flash. But on these +occasions they were never at a loss to know the donor. If, on her next +visit, they began to thank her for her gift,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> Gipsy indignantly denied +all knowledge of it, and positively refused to listen to them.</p></div> + +<p>Dr. Wiseman, who was a pretty extensive land-owner, had several tenants +in the remotest part of the village, whom he forced to pay an exorbitant +rent, giving them to understand that unless they paid it on the very day +it came due, out they must go! One evening, about dusk, Gipsy, who had +been riding out, was overtaken by a storm of wind and rain, and sought +shelter in one of the cottages.</p> + +<p>On entering she found the whole family in deep distress. The head of the +family sat gazing moodily at the fire: his wife, surrounded by her +children, was weeping; and they, following her example, had set up a +clamorous cry.</p> + +<p>"Why, what's up now? What's the matter, Mrs. Brown?" inquired Gipsy, in +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Gipsy! is it you? Sit down. Alas, it's the last time we can +ever ask you!" said the woman, with a fresh burst of tears.</p> + +<p>"Why, are you going to turn me out the next time I come?" said Gipsy, +taking the proffered seat.</p> + +<p>"Heaven forbid we'd ever turn you out, Miss Gipsy, after all you've done +for us!" said the woman; "but after to-night we'll no longer have a roof +to shelter us."</p> + +<p>"You won't, eh? Do you intend to set fire to this old shanty, and burn +it down?" inquired Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"No, no; but Dr. Wiseman was here for his rent (this is pay-day, you +know), and we haven't a cent in the house to give him. Mr. Brown's been +sick mostly all summer, and all we could make it took to feed the +children. And now Dr. Wiseman says he'll turn us out, to starve or beg, +to-morrow," replied the woman through her tears.</p> + +<p>"The old sinner!" exclaimed Gipsy, through her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> hard-closed teeth. "Did +you ask him to give you time to pay?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I went on my knees, and begged him to spare us for a few months, +and we would pay him every cent; but he wouldn't. He said he would give +us until to-morrow morning, and if we didn't have it then, out we must +go."</p> + +<p>For a moment Gipsy was silent, compressing her lips to keep down her +fiery wrath, while the woman wept more passionately than ever.</p> + +<p>"Have his other tenants paid him?" inquired Gipsy, at length.</p> + +<p>"Yes, all but us."</p> + +<p>"When did he start for home?"</p> + +<p>"Not five minutes ago?"</p> + +<p>"Which way did he take?" said Gipsy, springing to her feet, and +beginning to examine her pistols.</p> + +<p>"He went over the hills," said the man at the fire, speaking now for the +first time; "I heard them say he was afraid to be robbed if he went +round by the road, as he had all the money he got from the tenants with +him."</p> + +<p>"All right, then, Mrs. Brown, my dear woman. Keep up heart; and if some +good fairy gets you out of this scrape, don't say a word about it. Good +night."</p> + +<p>"You had better not venture alone in the storm," said Mrs. Brown, +anxiously; "one of the boys will go with you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, there's no necessity. I feel safer on Mignonne's back than +with all the boys that ever afflicted the world for its sins for a +body-guard. So mind my words, 'hold on to the last,' as the shoemaker +said, and don't despair."</p> + +<p>The last words were lost in the storm of wind and rain, as she opened +the door. Springing on the back of Mig<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>nonne, she turned his head in the +direction of the hills, and sped over the ground as rapidly as her +fleet-footed Arabian could carry her.</p> + +<p>Through the night, and wind, and rain, over the dangerous hilly path +jogged Dr. Wiseman. He scarcely felt the storm, for a talisman in the +shape of a well-filled pocket-book lay pressed to his avaricious heart. +His mare, a raw-boned old brute, as ugly as her master, walked along +slowly, manifesting a sublime contempt for storm and wind that would +have done the heart of a philosopher good. What her thoughts were about +it, would be hard to say; but her master's ran on money, robbers, +highwaymen, and other such "knights of the road."</p> + +<p>"There are many desperate characters in the village who know I have a +large sum of money about me, and who would no more mind waylaying, +robbing, and perhaps murdering me, than I would of turning the Brown's +out to-morrow. Luckily, however, they'll think I've taken the village +road," said the doctor to himself, in a sort of soliloquy, "and so I'll +escape them. But this road is a dismal one, and seems just the place for +a rendezvous of robbers. Now, if a highwayman were to step up from +behind one of these rocks, and cry——"</p> + +<p>"Your money or your life!" cried a deep, sepulchral voice at his ear, +with such startling suddenness that, with an exclamation of horror and +fear, the doctor nearly fell from his seat.</p> + +<p>Recovering himself, he strove to see the robber, but in the deep +darkness and beating rain it was impossible. But though he couldn't see, +he could hear, and the sharp click of a pistol distinctly met his ear.</p> + +<p>"Your money or your life!" repeated the low, hoarse voice, in an +imperious tone.</p> + +<p>For reply, the doctor, rendered desperate by the fear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> of losing his +money, drew a pistol and fired. As it flashed, he saw for a moment a +horse standing before him, but the rider seemed to have lain flat down, +for no man was there. Ere he could draw his second pistol, his horse was +grasped by the bridle-rein, and the cold muzzle of a pistol was pressed +to his temple.</p> + +<p>"Your money or your life!" cried a fierce, excited voice that terror +alone prevented him from recognizing. "Deliver up your money, old man, +or this instant you shall die."</p> + +<p>"Oh, spare my life!" cried the wretched doctor, in an agony of terror, +for the cold ring of steel still pressed his temple like the deadly fang +of a serpent. "Spare my life, for God's sake, and you shall have all! +I'm a poor man, but you shall have it."</p> + +<p>"Quick, then," was the imperious rejoinder, as the doctor fumbled in his +pockets, and at last, with a deep groan of despair, surrendered the +plump pocket-book to the daring outlaw.</p> + +<p>"That is all I have; now let me go," cried the miserable doctor.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but first you must solemnly swear never to speak to man, woman, or +child of what has occurred to-night. Swear by your own miserable soul!"</p> + +<p>"I swear!" groaned the unhappy doctor.</p> + +<p>"And lest you should be tempted to commit perjury, and break your oath, +let me tell you that the very first attempt to do so will be followed by +instant <i>death</i>. Mind! I will watch you day and night, dog your steps +like a blood-hound, and if you dare to breathe it to living mortal, that +moment will be your last."</p> + +<p>"I'll never mention it! I'll never speak of it. Oh, let me go," implored +the agonized Galen.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then. I have the honor to wish you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> good-night. If you don't +ride straight home, I'll send a bullet through your head."</p> + +<p>And with this cheering assurance the robber put spurs to the horse, and +rode off in the direction opposite to that leading to Deep Dale.</p> + +<p>Little need was there to exhort the terror-stricken doctor to ride +straight home. Never before had the spavined old mare fled over the +ground with the velocity she did that night, and Doctor Wiseman did not +breathe freely until he was double-locked in his own room.</p> + +<p>The Browns paid their rent the next day, and would no longer remain +tenants of the doctor. If he suspected any one, the robber's threat +caused him prudently to remain silent; but his wretched look was an +unfailing subject of mirth for Gipsy Gower for a month after, and the +cunning twinkle of her eye said as plainly as words:</p> + +<p>"I know, but I won't tell."</p> + +<p>One day, Gipsy fell into deeper disgrace with the squire than had ever +occurred before. In fact, it was quite an outrageous thing, and the only +apology I can offer for her is, that she meant no harm.</p> + +<p>The Bishop of B., Senator Long, and a number of distinguished gentlemen +and ladies from the city had come to St. Mark's to spend a few days. +Squire Erliston, as a matter of course, immediately called to see his +friends, and a few days after gave a large dinner-party, to which they +were all invited.</p> + +<p>The important day for the dinner-party arrived. Lizzie was up in her +room, dressing. Mrs. Gower was superintending affairs in the +dining-room. The squire, in full dress, sat alone, awaiting his friends. +As he sat, sleep overpowered him, and unconsciously he sank into a +profound slumber.</p> + +<p>While he was snoring in peace, little dreaming of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> fate awaiting +him, that little imp of mischief, Gipsy, entered. One glance sufficed, +and across her fertile brain there shot a demoniacal project of +mischief, while her whole form became instinct, and her wicked eyes +scintillated with fun.</p> + +<p>Quitting the room, she returned presently with a box of lampblack in one +hand, and the mustard-pot in the other.</p> + +<p>"Now, Guardy, you keep still a little while till I turn you into an +Indian chief, and here goes for your war-paint."</p> + +<p>So saying, the little wretch drew a streak of mustard across his nose, +following it by a similar one of lampblack. And so she continued until +his whole face was covered with alternate stripes of yellow and black, +scarcely able to repress a shout of laughter as she worked, at the +unspeakably ludicrous appearance he presented.</p> + +<p>Having exhausted her supply of paint, Gipsy stepped to the door to +survey her work, and unable longer to restrain a roar of laughter, fled +to her room, quivering with the anticipation of the fun to come.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had she quitted the room when the door was flung open, and, in +pompous tones, the servant announced:</p> + +<p>"De Right Reveren' Bishop of B., de Hon'ble Senator Long and Mrs. Long."</p> + +<p>And the whole party, half a dozen in number, entered the apartment.</p> + +<p>The noise awoke the squire; and a most musical snore was mercilessly +interrupted, and ended in a hysterical snort. Starting to his feet with +an expression of countenance that utterly repudiated the idea of his +having been asleep, he advanced with extended hand toward the bishop. +That high functionary drew back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> for a moment aghast, and glanced at his +companions in horror. Human nature could stand it no longer, and a +universal shout of laughter resounded through the room.</p> + +<p>"Eh? What? Lord bless me, what's the matter?" said the squire, turning +his face from one to another, inwardly wondering if they had all gone +mad. "What are you laughing at?"</p> + +<p>A fresh roar of laughter from the whole party answered this, as they all +pressed their hands to their sides, utterly unable to stop. Seeing this, +the squire at last began grinning with sympathy, thereby adding so much +to the ludicrousness of his appearance, that some threw themselves on +the floor, some on chairs and sofas, in perfect convulsions.</p> + +<p>"What the deuce is it?" repeated the squire, at last losing patience. +"Will you oblige me by telling me what the matter is?"</p> + +<p>"My dear sir," began the bishop, in tremulous tones.</p> + +<p>The squire turned his painted face eagerly toward the speaker. In vain +he attempted to proceed, it was not in human nature to withstand that +face, and the bishop fell back in a paroxysm that threatened never to +end.</p> + +<p>It was a scene for an artist. The row of convulsed faces around, pausing +for a moment breathlessly, but breaking forth louder than ever the +minute their eyes again fell upon him. And there sat the squire with his +black and yellow face, turning in dismay from one to another, his round +bullet-eyes ready to pop from their sockets.</p> + +<p>At this moment the door opened, and Lizzie, Louis, and Mrs. Gower, +followed by all the servants in the house, attracted by the noise, burst +into the room. The moment their eyes fell on the squire, who had started +to his feet to address them, their looks of surprise vanished and, as if +by one accord, shout after shout of laughter broke from all. In vain did +the squire stamp, and fume,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> and demand to know what was the matter; his +only answer was a fresh explosion of mirth.</p> + +<p>At last, in despair, Mrs. Gower managed to point to a mirror opposite. +The squire rushed frantically to the spot, and then paused, transfixed, +aghast with horror. Turning slowly round, he confronted his guests with +such a look of blank, utter dismay, that all the laughter previous was +nothing to the universal roar which followed that despairing glance. +Then bursting out with: "It's that fiend!—that demon incarnate!—that +little Jezebel has done this," he rushed from the room in search of her.</p> + +<p>Gipsy, attracted by the laughter, had ventured cautiously to descend the +stairs. The squire perceived her, as like a flash she turned to fly. +With one galvanic bound he sprang up the stairs, seized her by the +shoulder, shouting:</p> + +<p>"By Heaven! I'll pay you for this when they go!"</p> + +<p>Then opening an adjoining door, he thrust her in, turned the key, put it +in his pocket, and rushed out of the house into the yard, where, by the +friendly aid of soap and hot water, and some hard scrubbing, he managed +to make himself once more look like a Christian.</p> + +<p>Then, returning to his guests—who by this time had laughed themselves +into such a state that they could laugh no longer—he dispersed the +servants with sundry kicks and cuffs, and proceeded to explain, as well +as he was able, how it came about. Politeness forced the party to make +every effort to maintain their gravity, but more than once, while seated +in solemn conclave round the dinner-table, the recollection of the old +man's ludicrous appearance would prove too much for flesh and +blood—and, leaning back, they would laugh until the tears stood in +their eyes. Their example proving contagious, the whole party would join +in, to the great mor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>tification of the squire—who inwardly vowed that +Gipsy should pay dearly for every additional laugh.</p> + +<p>But for the squire to reckon without Gipsy was rather a hazardous +experiment. Seldom did that young lady find herself in a position from +which her genius would not extricate her—as the squire found to his +cost in the present instance.</p> + +<p>Gipsy's first sensation at finding herself for the first time really a +prisoner was one of intense mortification, followed by indignation; and +her thoughts ran somewhat after the following fashion:</p> + +<p>"The mean old thing!—to lock me up here just because I applied a little +mustard outside instead of inside! Never mind; if I don't fix him for +it, it'll be a wonder. So you'll pay me for this, will you, Guardy? Ah! +but you ain't sure of me yet, you see. If I don't outwit you yet, my +name's not Gipsy Roarer Gower! Now, Gipsy, my dear, set your wits to +work, and get yourself out of this black hole of a prison."</p> + +<p>Going to the window, she looked out. The sight would have appalled any +one else; but it did not intimidate Gipsy. The room she was in was on +the third story, at a dizzy height from the ground. She looked around +for a rope to descend; but none did the room contain. What was she to +do? Gipsy raised herself on one toe to consider.</p> + +<p>Suddenly her eye fell on a new suit of broadcloth her guardian had +brought home only the day before. She did not hesitate an instant.</p> + +<p>To her great delight she found a pair of scissors in her pocket; and, +taking the coat and unmentionables from the wall where they hung, she +sat down and diligently fell to work cutting them into long strips. +Fifteen minutes passed, and nothing remained of Guardy's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> new clothes +but a long black knotted string—which, to her great delight, she found +would reach easily to the ground.</p> + +<p>Fastening it to the window-sill securely, she began to descend, and in +ten minutes she stood once more on <i>terra firma</i>.</p> + +<p>Going to the stables, she saddled Mignonne and led him to the front +gate, where she left him standing. Then, with unheard-of audacity, she +entered the hall, opened the dining-room door, and thrusting in her +wicked little head, she exclaimed exultingly:</p> + +<p>"I say, Guardy, you can 'pay' me any time at your leisure, and I'll give +you a receipt in full."</p> + +<p>Then, I am sorry to say, making a hideous grimace, she turned to fly; +but the squire jumped from his seat—overturning the bishop and Mrs. +Senator Long in his violent haste—and shouting, "Stop her! stop her!" +rushed after her from the room.</p> + +<p>But he was too late, and she leaped upon Mignonne's back and was off. +Waving her hat in the air in a defiant "hurra!" she dashed down the road +and disappeared.</p> + +<p>Amazement and rage were struggling in the breast of the squire. Doubting +whether it was all a delusion, he rushed up stairs to the room. The door +was still fast; and, burning with impatience, he opened it. And there he +found the window wide open, and his new suit converted into a rope, +which still dangled, as if in exultation from the window. And the +mystery was solved.</p> + +<p>What the squire said and did there, it is useless to say. The reader +knows his remarks were anything but edifying; and even the august +presence of the overturned bishop could not prevent him from hurling a +torrent of invectives against the unfortunate Gipsy. Never had Squire +Erliston been so angry in his life.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> Inwardly vowing that she should +repent what she had done, the squire "bided his time"—little dreaming +how bitterly he was destined to repent that vow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE MOONLIGHT FLITTING.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was a vixen when she went to school,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though she is but little, she is fierce."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_t.png" alt="T" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +he moonlight was falling brightly on the lawn, and shimmering like +silver sheen on the leaves of the horse-chestnuts, as Gipsy rode home. +The company had just dispersed, and the squire was about to retire, when +the clatter of horse's hoofs on the graveled path made him start up and +hasten out to the porch. And there he beheld the audacious Gipsy riding +fearlessly toward him, shouting at the top of her lungs some wild +chorus, of which he only caught the words:</p></div> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"You must place in my coffin a bottle of red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say a good fellow is gone."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>"If I don't pay her off before I sleep to-night!" muttered the squire, +between his clenched teeth. "I'll put an end to her pranks, or know for +why."</p> + +<p>Gipsy leaped lightly from her horse, and resigning him to Jupiter, ran +up the steps, and encountered the purple face and blazing eyes of her +angry guardian.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good-evening, Guardy!" was her salute. "Nice night!"</p> + +<p>"Stop!" said the squire, catching her by the arm as she was about to run +past—"stop! I've an account to settle with you, my lady!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, any time at your convenience, Squire Erliston; I'll not be hard on +you."</p> + +<p>"Silence, Miss Impertinence! You have the impudence of Satan to face me +after what you have done!"</p> + +<p>"Now, Guardy, don't be unreasonable, but look at the matter in its +proper light. All fashionable people paint."</p> + +<p>"Silence!" exclaimed the squire, in a voice hoarse with rage. "Silence! +before I brain you, you little villain! You have made me the +laughing-stock of the country for miles around. I can never dare to show +my face after what has occurred, without being jeered and mocked at. And +all through you—the creature of my bounty—the miserable little wretch +who would have been a common street-beggar if I had not clothed, and +fed, and educated you!—through you, you brazen-faced, good-for-nothing +little pauper, whom I would have kicked out long ago to the workhouse +where you belong, if I had not feared the opinion of the world. Begone +from my sight, before I am tempted to brain you!"</p> + +<p>His face was perfectly livid with the storm of passion into which he had +wrought himself. As he ceased, he raised his hand and brutally struck +her a blow that sent her reeling across the room.</p> + +<p>Then all the demon in her fiery nature was aroused. With the shriek of a +wounded panther, she leaped toward him, with clenched hands, blazing +eyes, hard-ground teeth, ghastly face, convulsed brow, and eyes that +fairly scintillated sparks of fire. She looked a per<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>fect little fiend, +as she glared upon him, quivering in every nerve with frenzied passion.</p> + +<p>The old sinner drew back appalled, frightened into calmness by that +dark, fierce face. For a moment he expected she would spring at his +throat like a tigress and strangle him. But, with a long, wild cry, she +clasped her hands above her head, and fled swiftly up-stairs, +disappearing like some elfin sprite in the darkness beyond.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" muttered the squire, wiping the drops of terror off his +face. "What a perfect little devil! Did ever any one see such a look on +a human face before! It's my opinion she's allied to Old Nick, and will +carry me off some night in a brimstone of cloud and fire—I mean a fire +of cloud and brimstone. Good gracious! I'm palpitating like a hysterical +girl. I never got such a fright in my life. I vow it's a danger to go to +bed with that desperate little limb in the house. I shouldn't wonder if +she set the place on fire about our ears and burned us all in our beds, +or cut our throats, or something. She looked wild and crazy enough to do +it. Well, I reckon, I'll be more careful how I chastise her for the +future, that's certain."</p> + +<p>So saying, the squire took his night-lamp and went off to bed, taking +the precaution to double lock his door, lest the "little imp" should +take it into her head to carry him off bodily during the night.</p> + +<p>No such catastrophe occurred, however, and when the squire went down to +breakfast, he found everything going on as usual. Lizzie lay on a +lounge, immersed in the pages of a novel, and Louis sat by the window +busily sketching, as was his custom.</p> + +<p>"I say, Lizzie, have you seen anything of Gipsy this morning?" he +inquired, as he entered.</p> + +<p>"No, papa."</p> + +<p>"I'd rather think she rode off before any of us were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> up this morning," +said Louis, raising his head. "Mignonne is not in the stable."</p> + +<p>This was nothing unusual, so without waiting for her, the family sat +down to breakfast.</p> + +<p>But half an hour after, Totty came running in alarm to Mrs. Gower, to +say Miss Gipsy's bed had not been slept in all night. This fact was +self-evident; and the worthy housekeeper sought out the squire to learn +whether Gipsy had returned home the night before.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, to be sure she did. 'Night brings home all stragglers,' as +Solomon says. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because she has not slept in her bed the livelong night."</p> + +<p>"No!" shouted the squire, springing from his seat, as if some one had +speared him. "Lord bless me! where can she have gone?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Squire Erliston, you do not think anything has happened to the dear +child, do you?" said Mrs. Gower, clasping her hands.</p> + +<p>"Fiddle-de-dee, woman, of course not. She's gone back to Deep Dale, I'll +lay a wager. Oh, here comes young Rivers, now we'll know."</p> + +<p>"Archie, my dear," said Mrs. Gower, as that young gentleman entered the +room, "did Gipsy go back to Deep Dale last night?"</p> + +<p>"Go back! Why, of course she didn't."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Squire Erliston, you hear that. Oh, where can that crazy creature +have gone?" exclaimed Mrs. Gower, twisting her fingers in distress.</p> + +<p>"Why, what's wrong? Where is Gipsy?" asked Archie, in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. She came home late last night, and must have gone +away somewhere, for she never went to bed at all. Oh, I am sure she has +been killed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> or drowned, or shot, or something! I always knew it would +happen," and Mrs. Gower fairly began to cry.</p> + +<p>"Knew what would happen?" said Archie, perplexed and alarmed.</p> + +<p>"Something or other. I always said it; and now my words have come true," +replied Mrs. Gower sobbing.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Gower, ma'am, allow me to tell you, you're a fool!" broke out the +squire. "Most likely she didn't feel sleepy, and rode off before you +were out of your bed this morning, just like the young minx. Ring the +bell, and we'll see what time she started."</p> + +<p>Archie obeyed, and Totty made her appearance.</p> + +<p>"Tott," said the master, "be off with you, and send Jupiter here +immediately."</p> + +<p>Totty ducked her wooly head by way of reply, as she ran off, and +presently Jupiter made his appearance in evident trouble.</p> + +<p>"Jupe, you black rascal, what time did Gipsy ride off this morning?" +asked the squire.</p> + +<p>"Please, mas'r, it warn't dis mornin' she rid off," said Jupiter, +holding the door ajar, in order that he might retreat if his master grew +violent.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, sir?" roared his master, in rising terror.</p> + +<p>"'Deed, mas'r, I couldn't stop the young wixen—de young lady, I +mean—she don't mind me, no how, she don't."</p> + +<p>"Nor anybody else, for that matter," groaned the squire, inwardly.</p> + +<p>"You see, mas'r, arter she come home, I tuk Minnon inter de stable, and +'gan rubbin' him down, 'caze he was all in a foam she done rid him so +hard. Well, 'bout half an hour arter, as I was goin' to bed, I hears a +noise in de yard, an' when I looks out, dar was Miss Gipsy takin' de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +horse out again. 'Deed she was, mas'r, an' 'fore I could get out she war +gone—'twan't no fault of mine."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy!" shouted the squire, jumping to his legs and stamping +up and down the floor in an agony of remorse and sorrow. "And I've +driven you from home, old monster that I am! I'm a brute! an alligator! +a crocodile! a wretched old wretch! a miserable, forsaken old sinner! +and I'll knock down any man that dare say to the contrary! Oh, Gipsy, my +dear little plague! where are you now? My darling little wild eaglet! +friendless in the wide world!" Here catching sight of Jupiter still +standing in the doorway, he rushed upon him and shook him until the +unfortunate darkey's jaws chattered like a pair of castanets. "As for +you, you black rascal! I have a good mind to break every bone in your +worthless skin. Why didn't you wake me up, sir, when you saw her going, +eh? Answer me that!"</p> + +<p>"Mas'r—ma—ma—mas'r," stuttered poor Jupiter, half strangled, "'deed +de Lord knows I was 'fraid to 'sturb ye. Ma—ma—ma—mas'r——"</p> + +<p>"Silence, sir! Up with you and mount—let every man, woman, and child in +the place be off in search of her. And Mrs. Gower, ma'am, do you stop +snuffling there. 'No use crying for spilled milk,' as Solomon says. +We'll have her home and soundly thrashed before night, or my name's not +Magnus Theodoric Erliston. Ha! there! Louis! Archie! the rest of you, +mount and off! And Mrs. Gower, ma'am, do you run out and saddle my +horse, and bring him round while I draw on my boots."</p> + +<p>"Squire Erliston," sobbed the poor old lady, "you know very well I can't +saddle your horse. Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy!" she added, with a fresh burst of +tears.</p> + +<p>"Well, fly and tell some of the rest, then. Women are such worthless +creatures—good for nothing but cry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>ing. There they go, with Louis and +young Rivers at their head, to scour the country. 'In the days when we +went gipsying,' as Solomon says. I do believe that little minx will be +the death of me yet—I know she will! I'm losing flesh; I'm losing +temper; I'm losing cash! I'm losing rest, and losing patience every day. +She'll bring my gray hairs in sorrow to the grave, as Solomon says, only +I happen to wear a wig, Ah! there's my horse. Now for it! Gipsy Gower, +you little torment, you, <i>won't</i> I tell you a piece of my mind when I +catch you!"</p> + +<p>But the squire was destined not to catch her; for, though they continued +the search for the lost one until night, no trace of her could be found. +All that could be learned of her was from an innkeeper in a neighboring +town, some twenty miles distant. He said a young girl answering the +description given of Gipsy had arrived there about daylight, and, after +taking a hasty breakfast, had left her horse—which was utterly +exhausted by the pace with which she had ridden him—and started in the +mail coach for the city.</p> + +<p>Mignonne was led home, and as it was too late to go farther that day the +tired horsemen returned, silent and dispirited, homeward. The next day +the search was renewed, and the driver of the mail-coach questioned +concerning the little fugitive. He could throw but little light on the +subject; she accompanied him as far as the city, where she paid her fare +and left him. And that was all he knew.</p> + +<p>Placards were posted up, and rewards offered; the police were put upon +her track; but all in vain. And at last all hope was given up, and the +lost child was resigned to her fate.</p> + +<p>One day, about three weeks after her flight, the postman brought a +letter for Mrs. Gower. One glance at the superscription, and with a cry +of joy she tore it open,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> for it was in the light, careless hand of +Gipsy. It ran as follows:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear, Darling Aunty</span>:—I suppose you have had great times up +at Sunset Hall since I made a moonlight flitting of it. I wish I +had been there to see the fun. I suppose Guardy stamped and +roared, and blew up Jupiter, and blessed <i>me</i>—after his old +style. Well, you know, aunty, I just couldn't help it. Guardy was +getting so unbearable there was no standing him, and so I'm going +to take Gipsy Gower under my own especial patronage, and make a +good girl of her. Don't be angry, now, aunty, because I'll take +precious good care of myself—see if I don't. Tell Guardy not to +make a fuss, for fear it might bring on the gout, and tell him +not to keep searching for me, for if he hunts till he's black in +the face he won't find me. Remember me to Aunt Liz, and Louis, +and Celeste, and—and <i>Archie</i>. Tell Archie not to fall in love +with anybody else; if he does he may look out for a squall from +your own little <span class="smcap">Gipsy</span>."</p></blockquote> + +<p>This characteristic letter, instead of comforting the family, plunged +them into still deeper trouble on her account. Mrs. Gower wept for her +darling unceasingly, and would not be comforted; Lizzie sighed and +yawned, and lay on her lounge from morning till night, looking drearier +than ever; and the servants went in silence and sadness about their +daily business, heaving a sigh and shedding a tear over every memento +that recalled poor Gipsy. Now that she was gone they found how dearly +they loved her, in spite of all the scrapes and troubles she had ever +cost them.</p> + +<p>A dull, heavy, stagnant silence hung over the mansion from morning till +night. There was no more banging of doors, and flying in and out, and up +and down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> stairs, and scolding, and shouting, and singing all in one +burst, now. The squire was blue-molding—fairly "running to seed," as he +mournfully expressed it—for want of his little torment.</p> + +<p>No one missed the merry little elf more than the lusty old squire, who +sighed like a furnace, and sat undisturbed in his own arm-chair from one +week's end to the other. Sometimes Louis would bring over Celeste, who +had nearly wept her gentle eyes out for the loss of her friend, to +comfort him, and the fair, loving little creature would nestle on a +stool at his feet and lay her golden head in his lap, and go to sleep. +And the squire would caress her fair, silken curls with his great, rough +hands, and pat her white, dimpling shoulders, and turn away with a half +groan; for she was not Gipsy!</p> + +<p>As for poor Archie, he took to wandering in the woods and shooting +unoffending birds and rabbits, because it was Gipsy's favorite sport, +and looked as doleful as though he had lost every friend in the world.</p> + +<p>"Fall in love with any one else," indeed! Master Archie scorned the +idea, and began to have sundry visions of joining the monks of La Trappe +as soon as he grew old enough. This and his other threats of going to +sea, of enlisting, of killing somebody, by way of relieving his spirits, +kept poor Celeste trembling with fear for him from morning till night. +And in her own gentle way she would put her arms round his neck and cry +on his shoulder, and beg of him not to say such naughty things, for that +Gipsy would come back yet—she <i>knew</i> that she would.</p> + +<p>But Minnette, who didn't care a straw whether Gipsy ever came back or +not, would laugh her short, deriding laugh, and advise him to become a +Sister of Charity at once. And Celeste said <i>she</i> would be one when she +grew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> up, and then she would be always near to comfort him. And +Minnette's taunts always sent poor Archie off to the woods in a more +heart-broken state of mind than ever before.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>THE "STAR OF THE VALLEY."</h3> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——"Face and figure of a child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though too calm, you think, and tender,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the childhood you would lend her."—<span class="smcap">Browning.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_t.png" alt="T" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +he winter was now drawing on. The short, bleak November days had come, +with their chill winds and frosty mornings. Miss Hagar looked at the +slight, delicate form and pale little face of her <i>protegee</i>, and began +to talk of keeping her at home, instead of sending her to school during +the winter months.</p></div> + +<p>Celeste listened, and never dreamed of opposing her wishes, but stole +away by herself, and shed the first selfish tears that had ever fallen +from her eyes in her life. It was so pleasant in school, among so many +happy young faces, and with the holy, gentle-voiced Sisters of Charity, +and so unspeakably lonesome at home, with nothing to do but look out of +the window at gray hills and leafless trees, and listen to the dreary +sighing of the wind. Therefore Celeste grieved in silence, and strove to +keep back the tears when in Miss Hagar's presence, lest she should think +her an ungrateful, dissatisfied little girl.</p> + +<p>One morning, however, as Miss Hagar entered the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> deserted parlor, she +found Celeste sitting in the chimney-corner, her face hidden in her +hands, sobbing gently to herself. A little surprised at this, for the +child seemed always smiling and happy before her, Miss Hagar took her on +her knee, and asked what was the matter.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," replied Celeste, though her cheek glowed crimson red, as she +felt she was not speaking the truth.</p> + +<p>"People don't cry for nothing, child!" said the aged spinster, severely. +"<i>What's the matter?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Please, Miss Hagar, I'm so naughty, but—but—I don't want to leave +school."</p> + +<p>"Don't want to leave school? Why, child, you'd freeze to death going to +school in the winter."</p> + +<p>"But Minnette goes," pleaded Celeste.</p> + +<p>"Minnette's not like you, little lily. She's strong and hardy, and +doesn't mind the cold; it only brings living roses to her cheeks; but +<i>you</i>, little whiff of down that you are, you'd blow away with the first +winter breeze."</p> + +<p>Celeste had no reply to make to this. She only hung down her head, and +tried very hard to swallow a choking sensation in her throat.</p> + +<p>At this moment Archie burst in, in his usual boisterous manner, all +aglow with snow-balling Louis. Master Rivers seemed in very good +condition, notwithstanding the loss of Gipsy; though I rather think he +would have been induced to knock any one down who would tell him he had +forgotten her.</p> + +<p>"What! in trouble again, little sis? Who's been bothering you now? Just +give me a hint, and I'll invite them not to do it again."</p> + +<p>"Why, the little simpleton is crying because I won't let her freeze +herself to death going to school all winter!" said Miss Hagar.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's it—is it? Dry up your tears, then, Birdie; there's 'balm in +Gilead' for you. Yesterday,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> that good-natured old savage, Squire +Erliston, hearing me tell Louis that Celeste could not go to school +owing to the distance, immediately insisted that we should all use his +family sleigh for the winter. Now, Miss Hagar, see how those radiant +smiles chase her tears away. We'll nestle you up in the buffalo robes, +and dash off to school with you every morning to the music of the +jingling sleigh-bells. Eh, puss? won't it be glorious?"</p> + +<p>"What's that?" said Minnette, entering suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Why, Squire Erliston has given his sleigh up to Pussy here to take her +to school, and perhaps we'll take you if you're not cross, though the +squire has no particular love for you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you for nothing," said Minnette, scornfully; "but I wouldn't go +if you did ask me. Before I'd be such a baby!" she added, glancing +contemptuously at Celeste.</p> + +<p>And Minnette was as good as her word, positively refusing even the +stormiest mornings to go in the sleigh. Archie exhausted all his +eloquence, and Celeste pleaded tearfully, offering to stay at home and +let her take her place; but Minnette answered all their entreaties by a +sullen "I won't." Even when Louis, the only living being to whom her +high, stubborn will would bend, pleaded with her to come, she only +turned away, and said, in a tone <i>very</i> gentle for her:</p> + +<p>"No, Louis, don't ask me; I can't go. Why should I? I'm no trembling +little coward like Celeste. I <i>love</i> the winter!—yes, twice as well as +the summer! The summer is too still, and warm, and serene for me! But +the winter, with its maddening winds and howling storms, and white, +frosty ground and piercing cold breeze, sends the blood bounding like +lightning through every vein in my body, until I fly along, scarcely +touching the ground beneath me! Louis, walking alone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> through the +drifted snow, I feel no cold; but in your warm sleigh beside <i>her</i>, my +heart would feel like ice!"</p> + +<p>"Strange, wild girl that you are! Why do you dislike Celeste so much?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I never liked any one in my life—at least not more than +<i>one</i>. Do <i>you</i> like her?" she said, lifting her eyes, glancing with +dusky fire, to his face.</p> + +<p>"Like her!" he exclaimed, shaking back his short, black curls, while his +full, dark eye kindled—"like that lovely little creature! that gentle +little dove! that sweet little fairy! beautiful as an angel! radiant as +a poet's dream! bewitching as an Eastern houri! Like her! Oh, Minnette!"</p> + +<p>She paused for a moment, and fixed her gleaming eyes on the bright, +handsome face, sparkling with boyish enthusiasm; then, without a word, +turned away, and fled from his sight.</p> + +<p>And from that moment her hatred of Celeste redoubled tenfold in its +intensity. Every opportunity of wounding and insulting the sensitive +heart of the gentle child was seized; but every insult was borne with +patience—every taunt and sarcasm met with meek silence, that only +exasperated her merciless tormentor more and more. Sometimes Celeste +would feel rising in her bosom a feeling of dislike and indignation +toward her persecutor; and then, filled with remorse, she would kneel in +the chapel and meekly pray for a better spirit, and always rise +strengthened and hopeful, to encounter her arch-enemy, with her taunting +words and deriding black eyes.</p> + +<p>One last incident, displaying forcibly their different dispositions, and +I have done with the <i>children</i>, Minnette and Celeste, forever.</p> + +<p>The Sisters had purchased a beautiful new statue of the Madonna, and +placed it in the refectory until it could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> be properly fixed in the +chapel. The children were repeatedly forbidden to enter the refectory +while it was there, lest it should accidentally be broken.</p> + +<p>One day, the Sisters had given a <i>conge</i>, and their pupils were out +playing noisily in the large garden and grounds attached to the convent. +Minnette, who never liked to mingle in a crowd, selected three of the +boldest spirits present, and proposed they should play "Puss in the +corner" by themselves.</p> + +<p>"Oh! we can't here in this great big place," was the reply; "besides, +the other girls will be sure to join us."</p> + +<p>"Let us go into the class-room, then," said the adventurous Minnette.</p> + +<p>"Sister Mary Stanislaus is sweeping out the class-room, and she won't +let us," said one of the girls.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, there's the refectory," persisted Minnette.</p> + +<p>"Oh! we daren't go there! Mother Vincent would be dreadfully angry. You +know the new statue is there!" said the girls, aghast at the very idea.</p> + +<p>"Such cowards!" exclaimed Minnette, her lip curling and her eye +flashing. "I wish Gipsy Gower were here. <i>She</i> would not be afraid."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> ain't a coward! I'll go!" cried one, following the daring Minnette, +who had already started for the forbidden room. The others, yielding to +their bolder spirit, followed after, and soon were wildly romping in the +refectory.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, Minnette, in her haste, rushed against the shelf where the +statue stood. Down it came, with a loud crash, shivered into a thousand +fragments.</p> + +<p>The four girls stood pale, aghast with terror. Even Minnette's heart for +a moment ceased to beat, as she gazed on the broken pieces of the +exquisite statue. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> was but for a moment; all her presence of mind +returned, as she breathlessly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Sister will be here in a moment and catch us. Let us run out and join +the other girls, and she'll never know who did it."</p> + +<p>In an instant they were rushing pell-mell from the room. Minnette was +the last, and as she went out her eye fell upon Celeste coming along the +passage. A project for gratifying her hatred immediately flashed across +her mind. Seizing Celeste by the arm she thrust her into the refectory, +closed the door, and fled, just as the Sister, startled by the noise, +came running to the spot.</p> + +<p>She opened the door! There stood Celeste, pale and trembling, gazing in +horror on the ruins at her feet.</p> + +<p>An involuntary shriek from Sister Stanislaus brought all the nuns and +pupils in alarm to the spot. Celeste had entered the forbidden +room—had, by some accident, broken the beautiful and costly statue; +that was a fact self-evident to all. She did not attempt to deny it—her +trembling lips could frame no words, while the <i>real</i> culprits stood +boldly by, silent and unsuspected.</p> + +<p>Celeste was led away to appear before "Mother Vincent," and answer the +heavy charge brought against her. She well knew how it all happened, and +could very easily have cleared herself; but she had just been reading a +lecture on humility and self-denial, and heroically resolved to bear the +blame sooner than charge Minnette. "Minnette will hate me worse than +ever if I tell," she thought; "and I must try and get her to like me. +Besides, I deserve punishment, for I felt dreadfully bad and naughty, +when she made the girls laugh at me this morning."</p> + +<p>So Celeste met the charge only by silence, and sobs, and tears; and +Mother Vincent, leading her into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> class-room, where all the girls +and teachers were assembled, administered a public reproof.</p> + +<p>"Had it been any of the other girls," she said, "she would not have felt +surprised; but Celeste was such a good girl generally, she was indeed +surprised and grieved. It was not for the loss of the statue she cared +most—though <i>that</i> could scarcely be replaced—but so glaring an act of +disobedience as entering the refectory could not go unpunished. +Therefore, Sister Mary Joseph would lead Celeste off and leave her by +herself until school was dismissed, as a warning to be more obedient in +future."</p> + +<p>And Celeste, with her fair face flushed with shame—her bosom heaving +with sobs as though her gentle heart would break—was led away to the +now unforbidden refectory, and left alone in her deep sorrow. The real +culprits sat silent and uneasy, starting guiltily when a low, suppressed +sob would now and then reach their ear. But Minnette, with her black +eyes blazing with triumph, her cheeks crimson with excitement, sat bold +and undaunted, proud and rejoicing in her victory.</p> + +<p>That evening one of the girls, unable to endure the stings of +conscience, went to the Mother Superior and nobly confessed the whole. +The good lady listened amazed, but silent. Celeste was released, brought +before her, and confronted with Minnette.</p> + +<p>"Why did you tell this falsehood, Minnette?" said the justly indignant +lady, turning to her.</p> + +<p>"I told no falsehood, madam," she said, boldly, though her cheek glowed +like fire, and her falcon eye fell beneath the keen, steady gaze of the +other.</p> + +<p>"You <i>acted</i> a falsehood, then, which is quite as bad," said Mother +Vincent; "and I am pained beyond measure to find so artful and wicked a +disposition in one so young. And you, my child," she added, drawing +Celeste<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> toward her and caressing her golden head; "why did you suffer +this wrong in silence?"</p> + +<p>"Because I deserved it, Mother; I didn't like Minnette this morning," +she answered, dropping her pale face sadly.</p> + +<p>A glance that might have killed her, it was so dazzlingly, intensely +angry, shot from the lightning eyes of Minnette.</p> + +<p>After a few brief words, both were dismissed. The sleigh stopped to take +up Celeste, and Minnette walked proudly and sullenly home.</p> + +<p>When she reached the house she found Celeste standing in the doorway, +with Louis beside her, twining her golden curls over his fingers. All +the evil passions in Minnette's nature were aroused at the sight. +Springing upon her, fairly screaming with rage, she raised her clenched +hand and struck her a blow that felled her to the ground. Then darting +past, she flew like a flash up the polished oaken staircase, and locked +herself in her own room; but not until the wild cry of Louis at the +demoniac act reached her ear, turning her very blood to gall.</p> + +<p>He sprang forward, and raised Celeste up. She had struck on a sharp +icicle as she fell, and the golden hair clung to her face clotted with +the flowing blood. Pale and senseless, like a broken lily, she lay in +his arms, as, with a heart ready to burst with anguish, Louis bore her +into the house and laid her on a sofa. His cry brought Miss Hagar to the +spot. She stood in the doorway, and with her usual calmness surveyed the +scene. Celeste lay without life or motion on the sofa, and Louis bent +over her, chafing her cold hands, and calling her by every tender and +endearing name.</p> + +<p>"Some of Minnette's handiwork," she said, coming forward; "poor little +white dove, that vulture would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> tear out your very heart if she could. +But my words will come true, and some day she will find out she has a +heart herself, when it is torn quivering and bleeding in strong agony +from the roots."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Hagar, do you think she is dead?" cried Louis, his brave, +strong heart swelling and throbbing in an agony of grief.</p> + +<p>"No; I hope not. Ring the bell," was her answer.</p> + +<p>Louis obeyed; and having dispatched the servant who answered it for the +doctor, she proceeded to wash the blood from the wound. Doctor Wiseman +came in with the utmost indifference; listened to the story, said it was +"just like Minnette;" thought it ten chances to one whether she would +ever recover; gave a few general directions as to how she was to be +treated, and went off to sip his coffee and read the newspaper.</p> + +<p>Louis' indignation knew no bounds.</p> + +<p>"Leave this detestable old house," he exclaimed impetuously, to Miss +Hagar; "take Celeste over to Sunset Hall, and live with us. Grandfather +is rough, but kind and generous; and you and poor little Celeste will be +warmly welcomed. <i>Do</i> come, Miss Hagar."</p> + +<p>"No, Louis," said Miss Hagar, shaking her head. "I thank you for your +kind offer; but I cannot be dependent on anybody. No; I cannot go."</p> + +<p>"But, good heavens! Miss Hagar, will you stay and let that hawk-heart +Minnette kill this poor, gentle little soul, who is more like an angel +than a living child."</p> + +<p>"No," said Miss Hagar; "there is a cottage belonging to me about half a +mile from here, at a place called Little Valley. You know it, of course. +Well, I shall have it furnished; and as soon as Celeste recovers, if she +ever <i>does</i> recover, poor child, I shall go there. Thank the Lord! I'm +able to support myself; and there she will be beyond the power of +Minnette."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Beyond the power of Minnette," thought Louis, as he walked homeward. +"Will she <i>ever</i> be beyond the power of that mad girl? What can have +made her hate that angelic little creature so, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>Ah, Louis! Ten years from hence will <i>you</i> need to ask that question?</p> + +<p>The indignation of all at Sunset Hall at hearing of Minnette's +outrageous conduct was extreme. The squire was sure that "bedeviled +tigress would never die in bed." Mrs. Gower's fat bosom swelled with +indignation, and even Lizzie managed to drawl out "it was positively too +bad." And immediately after hearing it Mrs. Gower ordered out the +sleigh, and loading it with delicacies for the little sufferer, set out +for Deep Dale, where she found her raving in the delirium of a brain +fever.</p> + + +<p>Days and weeks passed ere Celeste rose from her bed, pale and weak, and +frailer than ever. Minnette, with proud, cold scorn, met the reproachful +glances of those around her; and never betrayed, by word or act, the +slightest interest in the sufferer. Only once, when Celeste for the +first time entered the parlor, supported by Louis, did she start; and +the blood swept in a crimson tide to her face, dyeing her very temples +fiery red. She turned aside her head; but Celeste went over, and taking +her unwilling hand, said, gently:</p> + +<p>"Dear Minnette, how glad I am to see you once more. It seems such a long +time since we met. Why did you not come to see me when I was sick?"</p> + +<p>"You had more agreeable company," said Minnette, in a low, cold voice, +glaring her fierce eyes at Louis as she arose. "Excuse me," and she +passed haughtily from the room.</p> + +<p>Miss Hagar's Valley Cottage was now ready for her reception; and as soon +as Celeste could bear to be removed they quitted Deep Dale. Celeste shed +a few tears<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> as she bade good-bye to the doctor and Minnette, but they +were speedily turned to smiles as Louis gayly lifted her in his arms and +placed her in the sleigh beside Archie. Then, seating himself on the +other side of her, he shouted a merry adieu to Minnette, who seemed +neither to see nor hear him as she leaned, cold and still, against the +door. Miss Hagar took her seat in front with the driver; and off the +whole party dashed.</p> + +<p>As the spring advanced the roses once more bloomed upon the pale cheeks +of Celeste; and the fair "Star of the Valley," as Master Louis had +poetically named her, was known far and wide. Celeste had never been so +happy before in her life. Every day brought Louis or Archie to the +cottage, with books, flowers, or pictures, or something to present their +"star" with. And as yet Celeste loved them both alike, just as she did +Miss Hagar, just as she did Mrs. Gower. Though weeks and months passed +away, Minnette never came near them. Sometimes Celeste went with the +boys to see her; but her reception was always so cold and chilling that, +fearing her visits displeased her, she at last desisted altogether.</p> + +<p>And Minnette, strange girl that she was, lived her own life in secret. +She sat in her own room, silent and alone, the livelong day; for after +that eventful morning on which the statue was broken, she would go to +school no more. With her chin leaning on her hand, she would sit for +hours with her glittering black eyes fixed on the fire, thinking and +thinking, while the doctor sat silently reading by himself, until +finally Master Archie, with a jaw-splitting yawn, declared that he +<i>would</i> go and be a Sister of Charity if they'd take him; for of all the +old tombs ever he heard of, Deep Dale beat them hollow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>OUR GIPSY.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock28"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Leaping spirits bright as air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dancing heart untouched by care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sparkling eye and laughing brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mirthful cheek of joyous glow."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_i.png" alt="I" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +n the spring Louis and Archie were to go to New York and enter college. +The squire, who was dying by inches of the inaction at Sunset Hall, +resolved to accompany them; and Lizzie, rousing herself from her +indolence, also resolved to accompany them. Doctor Wiseman intended +sending Minnette to boarding-school, and Miss Hagar offered to send +Celeste, likewise, if she would go; but Celeste pleaded to remain and go +to the Sisters; and as it happened to be just what Miss Hagar wished, +she consented.</p></div> + +<p>The evening before that fixed for the departure of the boys was spent by +them at the Valley Cottage. Archie was in unusually boisterous spirits, +and laughed till he made the house ring. Louis, on the contrary, was +silent and grave, thinking sadly of leaving home and of parting with his +friends.</p> + +<p>Celeste, who always caught her tone from those around her, was one +moment all smiles at one gay sally of Archie's, and the next sighing +softly as her eye fell upon the grief-bowed young head of Louis. Miss +Hagar sat by the fire knitting, as stiff, and solemn, and grave as +usual.</p> + +<p>"It will be a year—twelve whole months—before we all meet again," said +Louis, with a sigh.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" said Celeste, her eyes filling with tears; "it will be <i>so</i> +lonesome. It seems to me the time will never pass."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it will pass—never fear," said Archie, in the confident tone of +one who knows he is asserting a fact; "and we'll come back young +collegians—decidedly fast young men—<i>Mirabile dictu</i>—that's +Latin—and I'll marry you, sis. Oh, I forgot Gipsy."</p> + +<p>Here Archie's face suddenly fell to a formidable length, and he heaved a +sigh that would have inflated a balloon.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if Gipsy were here it wouldn't be a bit lonesome—I mean, not so +much. Minnette's going away, too," said Celeste, sadly.</p> + +<p>"Well, you needn't care for her, I'm sure," said Archie, gruffly. "She's +as sharp as a bottle of cayenne pepper, and as sour as an unripe +crab-apple. For my part, I'm glad to be out of the way of her +dagger-tongue."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Archie, please don't," said Celeste, gently. "How do you know but +she likes you now, after all?"</p> + +<p>"Likes me? Oh, that's too good. Hold me, somebody, or I'll split!" +exclaimed Archie, going off into an inextinguishable fit of laughter at +the very idea.</p> + +<p>Louis rose and went to the door; Celeste followed him, leaving Archie to +recover from his laughter and expatiate to Miss Hagar on the pleasures +and prospects he hoped to enjoy in Gotham.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful moonlight night. The bright May moon shed a shower of +silvery glory over the cottage, and bathed them in its refulgent light.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis, what is the matter?" said Celeste, laying her hand on his +arm. "Are you so sorry for leaving home?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care for that, Celeste; I am sorry to leave you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But it's only for a year. I will be here when you come back."</p> + +<p>"Will you, Celeste?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, Louis, of course I will."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you won't, Celeste. There will be something here taller and +more womanly, who will talk and act like a young lady, and whom I will +call Miss Pearl; but the little, gentle Celeste will be here no longer."</p> + +<p>"Well, won't it be the same with you?" said Celeste, with an arch smile. +"Something will come back taller and more manly, who will talk and act +like a young gentleman, and whom I must call Mr. Oranmore, I suppose. +But the Louis who brings me pretty books, and calls me 'the Star of the +Valley,' I will never see again."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Celeste, you know better than that. Will you think of me sometimes +when I am gone?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, always. What a strange question! Why, I never thought of +asking you to think of me, though you are going among so many strangers, +who will make you forget all your old friends."</p> + +<p>"You know I couldn't forget any of my old friends, Celeste, much less +you. I shall think of you, and Miss Hagar, and Mrs. Gower, and—yes, and +poor Gipsy every day. See, I have brought you a parting gift, Celeste, +for your celestial little neck."</p> + +<p>So saying, he drew out a little gold chain and cross, and threw it over +the graceful neck that bent to receive it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, dear Louis. I shall prize your gift so much. How kind +and thoughtful of you! I wish I had something to give you in return."</p> + +<p>"One of your curls will do."</p> + +<p>"Will it? Oh, then you shall have it."</p> + +<p>So saying, she drew out a tiny pair of scissors and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> severed a long, +shining ring of gold from her bright little head.</p> + +<p>"Hallo! what's this? Exchanging true lovers' tokens, by all that's +tender! Ha, ha, ha!" shouted Master Rivers, appearing suddenly, and +roaring with laughter.</p> + +<p>"Confound you!" muttered Louis, giving him a shake. "And now I must go +and bid Miss Hagar good-bye. Archie, go off and bring the gig round. +Celeste, stay here; I'll be with you again in a minute."</p> + +<p>So saying, Louis entered the cottage, shook hands with the hoary +spinster, who bade him be a good boy, and not bring back any city +habits. Then going to the door, where Celeste still stood looking on her +cross, and closing her eyes to force back the tears that were fast +gathering in them, he took her in his arms and said:</p> + +<p>"And now good-bye, little darling. Don't quite forget Louis."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis," was all she could say, as she clung to his neck and sobbed +on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>He compressed his lips and resolutely unclasped her clinging arms; then +pressing his lips to her fair brow, he leaped into the gig, seized the +reins, and, in his excitement, dashed off, quite forgetting Archie, who +had lingered to say good-bye to Celeste.</p> + +<p>Archie rushed after him, shouting "Stop thief! stop thief!" until Louis, +discovering his mistake, pulled up, and admitted that wronged and +justly-indignant young gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Now for Deep Dale, to bid good-bye to Minnette and Old Nick," said +Archie, irreverently, "and then hie for Sunset Hall."</p> + +<p>"Yes, poor Celeste," said Louis, with a sigh, evidently forgetting he +had a companion; whereupon Archie again went into convulsions of +laughter, kicking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> up his heels and snapping his fingers in an ectasy of +delight. Louis found his example so contagious, that—after trying for a +few moments to preserve his gravity—he, too, was forced to join in his +uproarious mirth.</p> + +<p>On their arrival at Deep Dale they found the doctor in his study. Louis +bade him a formal farewell; and having learned that Minnette was in the +parlor, he went down to seek her, accompanied by Archie.</p> + +<p>She sat in her usual attitude, gazing intently out of the window at the +cold moonlight. She looked up as they entered, and started violently as +she perceived who were her visitors.</p> + +<p>"Well, Minnette, we've come to bid you good-bye," said Archie, gayly, +throwing his arms round her neck and imprinting a cousinly salute on her +cheek. "Good-bye for twelve months, and then hie for home and a happy +meeting. Louis, I leave you to make your adieux to Minnette, while I +make mine to old Suse, down in the kitchen. Mind, Minnette, don't give +him one of your curls, as I saw another little girl do awhile ago, +unless he gives you a gold cross and chain in return for it—he gave her +one." And with a mischievous laugh, Archie clattered down stairs, taking +half the staircase at a bound.</p> + +<p>She drew herself back and up; and the hand she had half extended to meet +his was withdrawn, as, with a cold formal bow, she said:</p> + +<p>"Farewell! I wish you a safe journey and a happy return."</p> + +<p>"And nothing more? Oh, Minnette! Is it thus old friends, who have known +each other from childhood, are to part? Just think, we may never meet +again!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Do you care?</i>" she asked, in a softened voice.</p> + +<p>"Care! Of course I do. Won't you shake hands,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> Minnette! You're not half +as sorry to let me go as little Celeste was."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; I don't lose so much. I have no books, nor flowers, nor visits, +nor gold crosses to lose by your absence," she said, sarcastically—her +face, that had softened for a moment, growing cold and hard at the +mention of her name. "Good-bye Louis, and—I wish you all success and +happiness."</p> + +<p>The hand she extended was cold as ice. He pressed it between his, and +gazed sadly into the clear, bright eyes that defiantly met his own.</p> + +<p>"Come, Louis, don't stay there all night!" called Archie, impatiently. +"Old Suse has been hugging and kissing me till I was half smothered, +down there in the kitchen; and it didn't take her half the time it does +you two. Come along."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye! good-bye!" said Louis, waving his hand to Minnette, who +followed him to the door; and the next moment they were dashing along at +break-neck speed toward Sunset Hall.</p> + +<p>The moonlight that night fell on Celeste, kneeling in her own little +room, praying for Louis and Archie, and sobbing in unrestrained grief +whenever her eye fell upon the bright gold cross—<i>his</i> parting gift. +Appropriate gift from one who seemed destined to never lay aught but +<i>crosses</i> upon her!</p> + +<p>It fell upon Minnette, sitting still by the window, with a face as cold +and white as the moonlight on which she gazed. She did not love Louis +Oranmore; but she admired him—liked him better than any one else she +knew, perhaps, because he was handsome. But she hated Celeste; and his +evident preference for her kindled up the flames of jealousy in her +passionate soul, until she could have killed her without remorse.</p> + +<p>The next morning the gay party set out for New<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> York; and in due course +of time they reached that city, and put up at one of the best hotels.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we go to the opera to-night?" said Lizzie to the squire, as she +sat—all her languor gone—looking out of the window at the stream of +life flowing below.</p> + +<p>"Just as you like—it's all one to me," said the squire, with most +sublime indifference.</p> + +<p>"Then the opera be it," said Lizzie, and the opera, accordingly, it was. +And a few hours later found them comfortably seated, listening to the +music, and gazing on the gayly-attired people around them.</p> + +<p>"How delightful this is!" exclaimed Lizzie, her eyes sparkling with +pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Humph!—delightful! Set of fools! 'All is vanity,' as Solomon says. +Wonder who foots the bills for all this glittering and shaking toggery?" +grunted the squire.</p> + +<p>"I've heard them say that the young <i>danseuse</i>, 'La Petite Eaglet,' is +going to dance to-night," said Louis. "Everybody's raving about her."</p> + +<p>"Why? Is she so beautiful?" inquired Lizzie.</p> + +<p>"No, I believe not; it's because she dances so well," replied Louis.</p> + +<p>At this moment the curtain arose, a thunder of applause shook the house, +and La Petite Eaglet herself stood before them. A little straight, lithe +figure, arrayed in floating, gauzy robes of white silver tissue, and +crowned with white roses—a small, dark, keen, piquant face—bright, +roguish eyes, that went dancing like lightning around the house. +Suddenly her eye fell on our party from St. Mark's; a slight start and a +quick removal of her eyes followed. The applause grew deafening as the +people hailed their favorite. She bowed. The music struck merrily up, +and her tiny feet went glancing, like rain-drops, here and there. She +seemed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> floating in air, not touching the ground, as she whirled, and +flew, and skimmed like a bird in the sunshine. The squire was +dizzy—absolutely dizzy—looking at her. His head was going round, +spinning like a top, or like her feet, as he gazed. Lizzie and Louis +were entranced, but Archie, after the first glance, sat with dilating +eyes and parted lips—incredulous, amazed, bewildered—with a look of +half-puzzled, half-delighted recognition on his face.</p> + +<p>Still the little dancer whirled and pirouetted before them; and when she +ceased a shout of applause thundered through the building, shaking it to +its center. Flowers, wreaths, and bouquets fell in showers around her; +ladies waved their handkerchiefs and clapped their little hands in the +excitement of the moment. The opera-going world seemed to have gone mad. +And there stood the little Eaglet, bowing to the delighted audience, the +very impersonification of self-possession and grace.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, rising as if to speak, she removed the crown of roses from her +head. There was a profound, a dead silence, where lately all had been +uproar. Every eye was bent in wonder—every neck was strained to see +what she was about to do.</p> + +<p>Taking one step forward, she fixed her eyes on the box occupied by the +squire and his family. Every eye, as a matter of course, turned in that +direction likewise. Raising the wreath, she threw it toward them, and it +alighted in triumph on the brow of the squire.</p> + +<p>In a moment she was gone. Up sprang Archie, quite regardless of the +thousands of eyes upon him, and waving his cap in the air above his +head, he shouted, in wild exultation:</p> + +<p>"I knew it! I knew it! <i>It's our Gipsy!—it's Gipsy Gower!</i>"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>GIPSY'S RETURN TO SUNSET HALL.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock32"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"This maiden's sparkling eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are pretty and all that, sir;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But then her little tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is quite too full of chat, sir."—<span class="smcap">Moore.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_t.png" alt="T" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +he effect of Archie's announcement on our party may be imagined. Lizzie +uttered a stifled shriek and fell back in her seat; the squire's eyes +protruded until they seemed ready to burst from their sockets; Louis +gazed like one thunderstruck, and caught hold of Archie, who seemed +inclined to leap on the stage in search of his little lady-love.</p></div> + +<p>"Let me go into the green-room—let us go before she leaves," cried +Archie, struggling to free himself from the grasp of Louis.</p> + +<p>The crowd were now dispersing; and the squire and his party arose and +were borne along by the throng, headed by Archie, whose frantic +exertions—as he dug his elbows right and left, to make a passage, quite +regardless of feelings and ribs—soon brought them to the outer air; and +ten minutes later—the squire never could tell how—found them in the +green-room, among painted actresses and slip-shod, shabby-looking +actors.</p> + +<p>Archie's eyes danced over the assembled company, who looked rather +surprised, not to say indignant, at this sudden entrance, and rested at +last on a straight, slight, little figure, with its back toward them. +With one bound he cleared the intervening space betwixt them, and +without waiting to say "by your leave,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> clasped her in his arms, and +imprinted a kiss upon her cheek.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, Archie, is that you? Take care! you're mussing my new dress +dreadfully!" was the astoundingly cool salutation, in the well-known +tones of our little Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy, how <i>could</i> you do it? Oh, Gipsy, it was <i>such</i> a shame," +exclaimed Archie, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>At this moment she espied Louis advancing toward her, and accosted him +with:</p> + +<p>"How d'ye do, Louis?—how's Celeste and Minnette, and Mignonne, and all +the rest? Pretty well, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Gipsy! Gipsy! what a way to talk after our long parting," said Louis, +almost provoked by her indifference. "You don't know how we all grieved +for you. Poor Mrs. Gower has become quite a skeleton crying for her +'monkey.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, poor, dear aunty! that's too bad now. But here comes Guardy and +Lizzie. I don't think Guardy was breaking his heart about me anyway! He +looks in capital condition yet."</p> + +<p>At this moment the squire came over with Lizzie leaning on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Hallo! Guardy, how are you? How did you like the opera?" exclaimed +Gipsy, in the same tone she would have used had she parted from him an +hour before.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy! you little wretch you! I never thought it would come to +this," groaned the squire.</p> + +<p>"No, you thought I wasn't clever enough! Just see how easy it is to be +deceived! Didn't I dance beautifully, though, and ain't I credit to you +now? I'll leave it to Archie here. Aunt Lizzie, I'll speak to you as +soon as I get time. Here comes old Barnes, the manager, to know what's +the matter."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy, you'll come home with us, my love, you really must," +exclaimed Lizzie.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't, aunty, by no manner of means," replied Gipsy, shaking her +head.</p> + +<p>"But I'll be shot if you <i>don't</i>, though," shouted the squire, "so no +more about it. Do you think I'm going to let a ward of <i>mine</i> go with a +gang of strolling players any longer?"</p> + +<p>"I'm no ward of yours, Squire Erliston; I'm my own mistress, thanks be +to goodness, free and independent, and so I mean to stay," exclaimed +Gipsy, with sparkling eyes.</p> + +<p>"But, oh, my dear! my <i>dear</i> Gipsy, do come home with us to-night," +pleaded Lizzie, taking her hand.</p> + +<p>"You will, Gipsy, just for to-night," coaxed Louis. And: "Ah, Gipsy, +<i>won't</i> you now?" pleaded Archie, looking up in her saucy little face, +with something very like tears shining in his usually merry blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well—maybe—just for to-night," said Gipsy, slowly yielding; "but +mind, I must go back to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"And may I be kicked to death by grasshoppers, if ever I <i>let</i> you go +back," muttered the squire to himself.</p> + +<p>"Here comes the manager, Mr. Barnes," said Gipsy, raising her voice; +"these are my friends, and I am going home with them to-night."</p> + +<p>"You'll be back to-morrow in time for the rehearsal" inquired Mr. +Barnes, in no very pleased tone of voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, to be sure," said Gipsy, as she ran off to get her hat and +cloak.</p> + +<p>"<i>We'll see about that!</i>" said the squire, inwardly, with a knowing nod.</p> + +<p>Gipsy soon made her appearance. A cab was in waiting, and the whole +party were soon on their way to the hotel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And now, tell us all your adventures since the night you eloped from +Sunset Hall," said Louis, as they drove along.</p> + +<p>"By and by. Tell me first all that has happened at St. Mark's since I +left—all about Celeste, and the rest of my friends."</p> + +<p>So Louis related all that had transpired since her departure—softening, +as much as he could, the outrageous conduct of Minnette.</p> + +<p>"Poor Celeste!" exclaimed Gipsy, with glowing cheeks and flashing eyes. +"Oh, don't I wish I'd only been there to take her part! <i>Wouldn't</i> I +have given it to Minnette—the ugly old thing!—beg pardon, Archie, for +calling your cousin names."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're welcome to call her what you please, for all I care," +replied Archie, in a nonchalant tone. "I'm not dying about her."</p> + +<p>"There's no love lost, I think," said Louis, laughing.</p> + +<p>By this time they had reached the hotel. Lizzie took Gipsy to her room +to brush her hair and arrange her dress, and then led her to the parlor, +where the trio were waiting them.</p> + +<p>"And now for your story!" exclaimed Archie, condescendingly pushing a +stool toward Gipsy with his foot.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's not much to tell," said Gipsy. "After leaving <i>you</i>, Guardy, +that night, in an excessively amiable frame of mind, I went up to my +room and sat down to deliberate whether I'd set fire to the house and +burn you all in your beds, or take a razor and cut <i>your</i> windpipe, by +way of letting in a little hint to be more polite to me in future."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord! I just thought so!" ejaculated the horrified squire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Finally, Guardy, I came to the conclusion that I would do neither. Both +were unpleasant jobs—at least they would have been unpleasant to you, +whatever they might have been to me, and would have taken too much time. +So I concluded to let you burden the earth a little longer, and quote +Solomon for the edification of the world generally, and in the meantime +to make myself as scarce as possible; for I'd no idea of staying to be +knocked about like an old dishcloth. So I got up, took my last supply of +pocket-money, stole down to the stables, mounted Mignonne, and dashed +off like the wind. Poor Mignonne! I rather think I astonished him that +night, and we were both pretty well blown by the time we reached +Brande's Tavern.</p> + +<p>"There I took breakfast, left Mignonne—much against my will—jumped +into the mail-coach, and started for the city. Arrived there, I was for +awhile rather at a loss in what direction to turn my talents. My +predominant idea, however, was to don pantaloons and go to sea. Being +determined to see the lions, while I staid, I went one night to the +play, saw a little girl dancing, and—Eureka! I had discovered what I +was born for at last! '<i>Couldn't</i> I beat that?' says I to myself. And +so, when I went home, I just got up before the looking-glass, stood on +one toe, and stuck the other leg straight out, as she had done, cut a +few pigeon-wings, turned a somerset or two, and came to the conclusion +that if I didn't become a <i>danseuse</i> forthwith, it would be the greatest +loss this world ever sustained—the fall of Jerusalem not excepted. To a +young lady of my genius it was no very difficult thing to accomplish. I +went to see Old Barnes, who politely declined my services. But I wasn't +going 'to give it up so, Mr. Brown,' and, like the widow in the +Scripture, I gave him no peace, night or day, until<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> he accepted my +services. Well, after that all was plain sailing enough. Maybe I didn't +astonish the world by the rapidity with which my continuations went up +and down. It was while there I wrote that letter of consolation to Aunty +Gower, by way of setting your minds at ease. Then we went to Washington, +then to New York, and everywhere I 'won golden opinions from all sorts +of people,' as Shakespeare, or Solomon, or some of them old fellows +says. I always kept a bright lookout for you all, for I had a sort of +presentiment I'd stumble against you some day. So I wasn't much +surprised, but a good pleased, when I saw Guardy's dear old head +protruding, like a huge overboiled beet, from one of the boxes to-night. +And so—<i>Finis</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Gipsy," exclaimed Archie, "you're a regular specimen of Young America! +You deserve a leather medal, or a service of tin plate—you do, by +Jove!"</p> + +<p>"'Pon honor, now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy, my love, I'm very sorry to think you could have degraded +yourself in such a way!" said Lizzie, with a shockingly shocked +expression of countenance.</p> + +<p>"Degraded, Aunt Lizzie!" exclaimed Gipsy, indignantly. "I'd like to know +whether it's more degrading to earn one's living, free and merry, as a +respectable, 'sponsible, danceable dancer, as Totty would say, or to +stay depending on any one, to be called a beggar, and kicked about like +an old shoe, if you didn't do everything a snappish old crab of an old +gentleman took into his absurd old head. I never was made to obey any +one—and what's more, I won't neither. There, now!"</p> + +<p>"Take care, Gipsy; don't make any rash promises," said Archie. "You've +got to promise to 'love, honor, and obey' <i>me</i>, one of these days."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Never-r-r! Obey <i>you</i>, indeed! Don't you wish I may do it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, but, my love," said Lizzie, returning to the charge, "though it +is too late to repair what you have done, you must be a dancing-girl no +longer. You must return home with us to Sunset Hall."</p> + +<p>"Return to Sunset Hall! Likely I'll go there to be abused again! Not I, +indeed, Aunt Lizzie; much obliged to you, at the same time, for the +offer."</p> + +<p>"And I vow, Miss Flyaway, you <i>shall</i> go with us—there!"</p> + +<p>"And I vow, Guardy, I <i>sha'n't</i> go with you—there!"</p> + +<p>"I'll go to law, and <i>compel</i> you to come. I'm your rightful guardian!" +said the squire, in rising wrath.</p> + +<p>"Rightful fiddlesticks! I'm no ward of yours; I'm Aunty Gower's niece; +and the law's got nothing to do with me," replied Gipsy, with an +audacious snap of her fingers; for neither Gipsy nor the boys knew how +she was found on the beach.</p> + +<p>"And is that all the thanks you give me for offering to plague myself +with you, you ungrateful little varmint?"</p> + +<p>"I'm <i>not</i> ungrateful, Squire Erliston!" flashed Gipsy—a streak of +fiery red darting across her dark face. "I'm <i>not</i> ungrateful; but I +<i>won't</i> be a slave to come at your beck; I <i>won't</i> be called a beggar—a +pauper; I <i>won't</i> be told the workhouse is my rightful home; I <i>won't</i> +be struck like a cur, and then kiss the hand that strikes me. No! I'm +not ungrateful; but, though I'm only a little girl, I <i>won't</i> be +insulted and abused for nothing. I can earn my own living, free and +happy, without whining for any one's favor, thank Heaven!"</p> + +<p>Her little form seemed to tower upward with the consciousness of inward +power, her eyes filled, blazed, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> dilated, and her dark cheek +crimsoned with proud defiance.</p> + +<p>The squire forgot his anger as he gazed in admiration on the +high-spirited little creature standing before him, as haughty as a +little empress. Stretching out his arms, he caught her, and seated her +on his knee—stroking her short, dancing curls, as he said, in the +playful tone one might use to a spoiled baby:</p> + +<p>"And can't my little monkey make allowance for an old man's words? You +know you were very naughty and mischievous that day, and I had cause to +be angry with you; and if I said harsh things, it was all for your good, +you know."</p> + +<p>"All for my good!—such stuff! I wish you'd put me down. I'm a young +lady, I'd have you to know; and I ain't going to be used like a baby, +dandled up and down without any regard for my dignity!" said Gipsy, with +so indignant an expression of countenance, that Archie—who, as I before +mentioned, was blessed with a keen sense of the ludicrous—fell back, +roaring with laughter.</p> + +<p>"Now, Gipsy, my love, do be reasonable and return home with us," said +Lizzie, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"I won't, then—there!" said Gipsy, rather sullenly.</p> + +<p>But the tears rushed into Lizzie's eyes—for she really was very fond of +the eccentric elf—and in a moment Gipsy was off the squire's knee, and +her arms round Lizzie's neck.</p> + +<p>"Why, aunty, did I make you cry? Oh, I'm so sorry! Please don't cry, +dear, <i>dear</i> aunty."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy, it's so selfish of you not to return with us, when we are so +lonesome at home without you," said Lizzie, fairly sobbing.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and poor Mrs. Gower will break her heart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> when she hears about +it—I know she will," said Louis, in a lachrymose tone.</p> + +<p>"And I'll break mine—I know I will!" added Archie, rubbing his knuckles +into his eyes, and with some difficulty squeezing out a tear.</p> + +<p>"And I'll blow my stupid old brains out; and <i>after that</i>, I'll break my +heart, too," chimed in the squire, in a very melancholy tone of voice.</p> + +<p>"Well! la me! you'll have rather a smashing time of it if you all break +your hearts. What'll you do with the pieces, Guardy?—sell them for +marbles?" said Gipsy, laughing.</p> + +<p>"There! I knew you'd relent; I said it. Oh, Gipsy, my darling, I knew +you wouldn't desert your 'Guardy' in his old age. I knew you wouldn't +let him go down to his grave like a miserable, consumptive old +tabby-cat, with no wicked little 'imp' to keep him from stagnating. Oh, +Gipsy, my dear, may Heaven bless you!"</p> + +<p>"Bother! I haven't said I'd go. Don't jump at conclusions. Before I'd be +with you a week you'd be blowing me up sky-high."</p> + +<p>"But, Gipsy, you know I can't live without blowing somebody up. You +ought to make allowance for an old man's temper. It runs in our family +to blow up. I had an uncle, or something, that was 'blown up' at the +battle of Bunker Hill. Then I always feel after it as amiable as a cat +when eating her kittens. 'After a storm there cometh a calm,' as Solomon +says."</p> + +<p>"Well, maybe there's something in that," said Gipsy, thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"And you know, my love," said Lizzie, "that, though a little girl may be +a dancer, it's a dreadful life for a young woman—which you will be in +two or three years. No one ever respects a dancing girl; no gentleman +ever would marry you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wouldn't they, though!" said Gipsy, so indignantly that Archie once +more fell back, convulsed. "If they wouldn't, somebody 'd lose the +smartest, cleverest, handsomest young lady on this terrestrial globe, +though I say it, as 'hadn't oughter.' Well, since you all are going to +commit suicide if I don't go with you, I suppose old Barnes must lose +the 'bright particular star' of his company, and I must return to St. +Mark's, to waste my sweetness on the desert air."</p> + +<p>This resolution was greeted with enthusiastic delight by all present; +and the night was far advanced before the squire could part with his +"little vixen," and allow her to go to rest.</p> + +<p>Old Barnes—as Gipsy called him—was highly indignant at the treatment +he had received, and, going to the hotel, began abusing Gipsy and the +squire, and everybody else generally; whereupon the squire, who never +was noted for his patience, took him by the collar, and, by a +well-applied kick, landed him in the kennel—a pleasant way of settling +disputes which he had learned while dealing with his negroes, but for +which an over-particular court made him pay pretty high damages.</p> + +<p>Three days after, Louis and Archie bade them farewell, and entered +college; and the squire, after a pleasure-trip of a few weeks, set out +for St. Mark's.</p> + +<p>In due course of time he arrived at that <i>refugium peccatorum</i>; and the +unbounded delight with which Gipsy was hailed can never be described by +pen of mine.</p> + +<p>Good Mrs. Gower could scarcely believe that her darling was really +before her; and it was only when listening to the uproar that everywhere +followed the footsteps of the said darling, that she could be convinced.</p> + +<p>As for Celeste, not knowing whether to laugh or cry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> with joy, she split +the difference, and did both. Even Miss Hagar's grim face relaxed as +Gipsy came flashing into their quiet cottage like a March whirlwind, +throwing everything into such "admired disorder," that it generally took +the quiet little housekeeper, Celeste, half a day to set things to +rights afterward.</p> + +<p>And now it began to be time to think of completing the education of the +two young girls. Minnette had left for school before the return of +Gipsy, and it became necessary to send them likewise. Loath as the +squire was to part with his pet, he felt he must do it, and urged Miss +Hagar to allow Celeste to accompany her.</p> + +<p>"Gipsy will defend her from the malice of Minnette, and the two girls +will be company for each other," said the old man to the spinster. +"Girls <i>must</i> know how to chatter French, and bang on a piano, and make +worsted cats and dogs, and all <i>such</i>! So let little Snowdrop, here, go +with my monkey, and I'll foot the bill."</p> + +<p>Miss Hagar consented; and a month after found our little rustic +lasses—our fair "Star of the Valley" and our mountain fairy, moving in +the new world of boarding-school.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>ARCHIE.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock32"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"His youthful form was middle size,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For feat of strength or exercise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shaped in proportion fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dark-blue was his eagle eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And auburn of the darkest dye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His short and curling hair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light was his footstep in the dance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And firm his stirrup in the lists,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh! he had that merry glance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seldom lady's heart resists."—<span class="smcap">Scott.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_f.png" alt="F" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +ive years passed. And the children, Gipsy and Celeste, we can never see +more; for those five years have changed them into young ladies of +seventeen. Strange to say, neither Louis nor Archie has met Minnette, +Gipsy, or Celeste, since the time they parted to go to college: and with +all the change that years have made in their appearance, it is doubtful +whether they would even recognize one another now, if they met.</p></div> + +<p>The way of it was this: Louis and Archie, after the life and excitement +of the city, began to think that Sunset Hall was an insufferably dull +place; and with the usual fickleness of youth, instead of going home to +spend their vacation, invariably went with some of their school-fellows. +This troubled the old squire very little; for without Gipsy, in the +quiet of Sunset Hall, he was falling into a state of stupid apathy, and +gave Master Louis <i>carte blanche</i> to go where he pleased. Lizzie was too +indolent to trouble herself much about it, and as she generally went on +a visit to New York every winter, she contented herself with seeing her +son and heir then, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> knowing he was well. As for Gipsy and Celeste, +their faithless boy-lovers seemed to have quite outgrown their early +affection for them.</p> + +<p>Then, when the time came for them to graduate, and make choice of a +profession, Squire Erliston found that young Mr. Oranmore would neither +be doctor, lawyer, nor clergyman; nor even accept a post in the army or +navy.</p> + +<p>"Why not," said the squire, during an interview he had with him; "what's +your objection?"</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear grandfather," replied Louis, "you should have too much +regard for your suffering fellow-mortals to make a doctor of me. As for +being a lawyer, I haven't rascality enough for that <i>yet</i>; and I've too +much respect for the church to take holy orders. Neither does the camp +nor forecastle agree with me. I have no particular love for forced +marches or wholesale slaughter; nor do I care over much for stale +biscuit, bilge-water, and the cat-o'-nine-tails; so I must e'en decline +all."</p> + +<p>"Then what in the name of Heaven <i>will</i> you be?" exclaimed the squire.</p> + +<p>"An artist, sir; an artist. Heaven has destined me for a painter. I feel +something within me that tells me I will yet win fame and renown. Let me +go to Europe—to Germany and Italy, and study the works of the glorious +old masters, and I will yet win a name you will not blush to hear."</p> + +<p>"Glorious old fiddlesticks! Go, if you like, but I never expected to +find a grandson of mine such a fool! The heir of Mount Sunset and its +broad lands, the heir of Oranmore Hall, and old Mother Oranmore's yellow +guineas, can do as he pleases, of course. Go and waste your time daubing +canvas if you will, I'll be hanged if <i>I</i> care!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>Therefore, six months before the return of the girls from school, Louis, +accompanied by a friend, sailed for Europe without seeing them.</p> + +<p>"And you, sir," said the squire, turning to Archie; "are <i>you</i> going to +be a fool and turn painter, too?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," replied Master Archie; "I'm not going to be a fool, but I'm +going to be something worse—a knave; in other words, a lawyer. As for +painting, thank fortune, I've no more talent for it than I have for +turning milliner, beyond painting my face when acting charades."</p> + +<p>So Archie went to Washington, and began studying for the bar.</p> + +<p>Gipsy, who was a universal favorite in school, began, for the last few +years, to copy the example of the boys, and spend her vacations with her +friends. Minnette and Celeste always returned home; for Minnette, cold, +and reserved, and proud, was disliked and feared by all; and though +Celeste was beloved by everybody, duty and affection forbade her to +leave Miss Hagar for her own pleasure.</p> + +<p>Our madcap friend, Gipsy, had lost none of her wicked nor +mischief-loving propensities during those years. Such a pest and a +plague as she was in the school, driving teachers and pupils to their +wits' end with her mad pranks, and yet liked so well. There was usually +a downright quarrel, about the time of the holidays, to see who would +possess her; and Gipsy, after looking on and enjoying the fun, would, to +the surprise and chagrin of all, go with some one who least hoped for +the honor.</p> + +<p>Gipsy was spending the winter with a school-friend, Jennie Moore, at +Washington. The three girls, whose united fortunes are the subject of +this history, had graduated; Minnette, with the highest honors the +school could give; Celeste, with fewer laurels, but with far more love; +and Gipsy—alas, that I should have to say it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>!—most wofully behind +all. The restless elf <i>would</i> not study—was <i>always</i> at the foot of her +class, and only laughed at the grave lectures of the teachers; and +yawned horribly over the rules of syntax, and the trying names in her +botany. So poor Gipsy left little better than when she entered.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The folding-doors of Mr. Moore's spacious drawing-room were thrown open, +blazing with light and radiant with brilliantly-dressed ladies. Miss +Jennie had resolved that the first ball should surpass anything that had +taken place that winter. All the <i>elite</i> of the city, wealth, beauty, +fashion, gallantry, and talent, were mingled in gay confusion. There +were soft rustling of silks, and waving of perfumed handkerchiefs, and +flirting of fans, and flirting of <i>belles</i>; and bright ladies cast +killing glances from their brilliant eyes; and gentlemen bowed and +smiled, and paid compliments, and talked all sorts of nonsense, and</p> + +<div class="poemblock28"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"All went merry as a marriage bell."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Near the upper end of the room the belle, <i>par excellence</i>, seemed to +be; for in her train flowed all that were wittiest, and gayest, and +loveliest there. Whenever <i>she</i> moved, a throng of admirers followed; +and where the laughter was loudest, the mirth highest, the crowd +greatest, there might you find the center of attraction, this belle of +whom I am speaking.</p> + +<p>And yet she was not beautiful; at least, not beautiful when compared +with many there who were neglected for her. She is floating now in a gay +waltz round the room with a distinguished foreigner, and "I will paint +her as I see her."</p> + +<p>A small, slight, straight, lithe figure, airy and bird-like in its +motions, skimming over the floor without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> seeming to touch it; never at +rest; but quick, sudden, abrupt, and startling in all its motions, yet +every motion instinct, glowing with life. A dark, bright, laughing +little face, that no one knows whether it is handsome or not, it is so +radiant, so bewitching, so sparkling, so full of overflowing mirth and +mischief. Short, crisp black curls, adorning the sauciest little head in +the world; wicked brown eyes, fairly <i>twinkling</i> with wickedness; a rosy +little mouth, that seemed always laughing to display the little pearly +teeth. Such was the star of the evening. Reader, do you recognize her?</p> + +<p>As she seated herself after the dance, tired and a little fatigued, +Jennie Moore, a pretty, graceful girl, came up to her, saying, in a low +voice:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy, I have a stranger to introduce to you—a most +<i>distinguished</i> one. One of the cleverest and most talented young +lawyers in Washington."</p> + +<p>"Distinguished! Now, I'm tired to death of 'distinguished' people; +they're all a set of bores—ugly as sin and pedantic as schoolmasters. +Don't stare—it's a fact!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but Mr. Rivers is not; he is young, handsome, agreeable, witty, a +regular lady-killer, and worth nobody knows how much."</p> + +<p>"Mr.—worth what?" exclaimed Gipsy, springing to her feet so impulsively +that her friend started back.</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter?" said Jennie in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Nothing! nothing!" said Gipsy, hastily. "<i>Who</i> did you say it was?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Archibald Rivers, student-at-law."</p> + +<p>"Jennie, they say I've changed greatly of late. Do you think I look +anything like I did when you first saw me?"</p> + +<p>"Why, not much. You were a tawny little fright<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> then; you're <i>almost</i> +handsome now," said the candid Jennie.</p> + +<p>"Then he won't know me. Jennie, will you oblige by introducing Mr. +Rivers to me under an assumed name?"</p> + +<p>"Why——"</p> + +<p>"There! there! don't ask questions; I'll tell by and by. Go and do it."</p> + +<p>"Well, you have always some new crotchet in your crotchety little head," +said Jennie, as she started to obey.</p> + +<p>In a few moments she reappeared, leaning on the arm of the +"distinguished" Mr. Rivers. Our Archie has not changed as much as Gipsy +has done during these years, save that he has grown taller and more +manly-looking. He has still his frank, handsome, boyish face; his merry +blue eye and boisterous manner, a <i>little</i> subdued.</p> + +<p>The indistinct tone in which Miss Moore introduced him prevented him +from catching the name, but he scarcely observed; and seeing in the +young lady, whose lips were now pursed up and whose eyes were cast +modestly on the floor, a shrinking, bashful girl, he charitably began to +draw her out.</p> + +<p>"There is quite an assembly here this evening," was his original remark, +by way of encouraging her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," was the reply, in a tone slightly tremulous, which <i>he</i> +ascribed to maiden bashfulness.</p> + +<p>"What a delightful young lady your friend, Miss Moore, is," continued +Archie.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"There are a great many beautiful ladies in the room."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Confound her!" muttered Archie, "can she say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> nothing but '<i>Yes, sir</i>?' +But the most beautiful lady present is by my side," he continued, aloud, +to see how she would swallow so palpable a dose of flattery.</p> + +<p>"<i>Yes, sir!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Whew! if that's not cool! I wonder if the girl's an idiot!" thought +Master Archie. Then, aloud: "Do you know you're very beautiful?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I know it."</p> + +<p>A stare of surprise followed this answer. Then he continued:</p> + +<p>"You are a most bewitching young lady! Never was so much charmed by +anybody in my life!"</p> + +<p>"Sorry I can't return the compliment."</p> + +<p>"Hallo!" thought Archie, rather taken aback. "She's not such a fool as I +took her to be. What do you think of that lady!" he added, pointing to a +handsome but dark-complexioned girl, whom report said would one day be +Mrs Rivers.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I don't think her pretty at all—she's such a <i>gipsy</i>."</p> + +<p>Archie gave a little start at the name. Poor Gipsy! he had quite +forgotten her of late.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," he said, "I once had a little friend called Gipsy? Your +words recalled her to my memory. You remind me of her, somehow, only you +are handsomer. She was dark and ugly."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! Did you like her?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-e-e-s—a little," said Archie, hesitatingly; "she was a half-crazy +little thing—black as a squaw, and I don't think I was very fond of +<i>her</i>, but she was <i>very</i> fond of me."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir!" said the young lady, a momentary flash gleaming from her +dark eyes; "she must have been a bold girl, rather, to let you know +it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She was bold—the boldest girl ever I knew, with nothing gentle and +womanly about her whatever."</p> + +<p>"What did you say her name was?"</p> + +<p>"Gipsy—Gipsy Gower. You seem interested in her."</p> + +<p>"I am, sir—I know her."</p> + +<p>"<i>You do?</i>" cried Archie, aghast.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; but I like her no more than you do. She was a rough, uncouth +savage, detested by every one who knew her. I had the misfortune to be +her room-mate in school, and she used to bore me dreadfully talking +about her gawky country friends, particularly some one whom she called +<i>Archie</i>."</p> + +<p>"Yes? What used she to say about him? She liked him, didn't she?" said +Archie, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>no</i>; I should say not. She used to say he was a regular +fool—always laughing. She said she never knew such a greeny in all her +life."</p> + +<p>Mr. Rivers suddenly wilted down, and hadn't a word to say. Just at that +moment a party of Gipsy's friends came along, and it was:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy! Oh, Miss Gower! we've been searching all over for +you. Everybody's dying of the blues, because you are absent. Do come +with us!"</p> + +<p>Archie leaped from his seat as though he had received a bayonet thrust. +Gipsy rose, saying, in a low, sarcastic voice, as she passed him:</p> + +<p>"Remember me to Gipsy when you see her. Tell her what I said about +Archie," and she was gone.</p> + +<p>During the remainder of the evening the "distinguished" Mr. Rivers +looked about as crestfallen as a young lawyer possessed of a large stock +of native impudence could well do. There he stood and watched Gipsy, who +had never been so magnetic, so bewitching, so entrancing in her life +before. Never by chance did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> she look at him; but there was scarcely +another masculine head in the room she had not turned.</p> + +<p>"Confound the little witch!" muttered Master Archie, "no wonder she +called me a fool! But who the deuce would ever think of finding little +Gipsy Gower in one of the belles of Washington? Had it been Celeste, +now, I should not have felt surprised. And who would ever think that +yonder dazzling, brilliant, magnetic girl was the little shy maiden who, +ten minutes ago, sat beside me with her demure '<i>yes, sir</i>!' Well, she +seems to be enjoying herself anyway. So, Miss Gipsy, I'll follow your +example and do the same."</p> + +<p>For the remainder of the evening Archie threw himself into the gay +throng with the evident determination of enjoying himself or dying in +the attempt. And more than one fair cheek flushed, and more than one +pair of bright eyes grew brighter, as their owner listened with downcast +lashes and smiling lips to the gallant words of the handsome young +lawyer. He was, if not <i>the</i> handsomest, at least <i>one</i> of the +handsomest, men in the room; and</p> + +<div class="poemblock28"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh! he had that merry glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seldom lady's heart resists."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>And eclipsed belles raised their graceful heads in triumph to find the +bewildering Gipsy had no power over him. But if they had known all, they +would have found that those "merry glances" were not for them, but to +pique the jealousy of the evening star.</p> + +<p>Ere the company dispersed he sought out Gipsy, who withdrawing herself +from the revelers, stood, silent and alone, by the window.</p> + +<p>"Gipsy!" he said, gently.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rivers!" she said, drawing herself up.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Gipsy, for what I said."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have nothing to forgive! I rather think we are quits!" replied Gipsy, +coolly.</p> + +<p>"Well, make up friends with me, and be a little like the Gipsy I used to +know."</p> + +<p>"What! like that black little squaw—that bold, ugly, half-crazy thing? +You astonish me, Mr. Rivers!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, even so, Gipsy; you know it's all true; and I'll be the same +'regular fool, always laughing.' Then shake hands and call me Archie, as +you used to."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I don't know," said Gipsy—"I don't <i>think</i> I ought to +forgive you."</p> + +<p>"Don't think about it, then. Nonsense, Gipsy—you know you're to be my +little wife!"</p> + +<p>She laughed and extended her hand, though her dark cheek grew crimson.</p> + +<p>"Well, there, I forgive you, Archie. Will that do? And now let us go +into the supper-room, for I'm starving. One of my early habits I have +not outgrown—and that is, a most alarming appetite."</p> + +<p>"Now I shall have her all to myself for the rest of the evening," +thought Archie, as he stood beside her, and watched triumphantly the +many savage and ferocious glances cast toward him by the gentlemen.</p> + +<p>But Archie found himself slightly mistaken; for Gipsy, five minutes +later, told him to be off—that he was an old bore, and not half as +agreeable as the most stupid of her beaus. Then laughing at his +mortified face, she danced and flirted unmercifully, leaving Mr. Rivers +to think she was the most capricious elf that ever tormented a young +lawyer.</p> + +<p>Every day for a week after he was a constant visitor at Mr. Moore's. And +every day for a week he went away as he came, without seeing Gipsy. She +was always out riding, or driving, or "not at home," though he could see +her plainly laughing at him at the window.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> The willful fairy seemed to +take a malicious delight in teasing the life out of poor Archie. Evening +after evening she accepted the escort of a handsome young English +baronet, Sir George Stuart, the most devoted of all her lovers—leaving +Archie to bear it as he pleased. And between jealousy, and rage, and +mortification, and wounded pride, Mr. Rivers had a hard time of it. It +<i>was</i> too bad to see his own little Gipsy—his girlish lady-love—taken +from him this way without being able to say a word against it.</p> + +<p>So Archie fell a prey to "green and yellow melancholy," and never saw +the stately young nobleman without feeling a demoniacal desire to blow +his brains out; and nothing prevented him from doing it but the becoming +respect he had for the laws of his country.</p> + +<p>One morning, however, for a wonder, he had the good fortune to find +Gipsy alone in the parlor, looking perfectly charming in her becoming +<i>deshabille</i>.</p> + +<p>"How did you enjoy yourself last night at Mrs. Greer's ball? I saw you +there with that fool of a baronet," said Archie, rather savagely.</p> + +<p>"I enjoyed myself very well, as I always do. And I must beg of you not +to speak of Sir George in that way, Mr. Rivers. I won't allow it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you won't!" sneered Archie. "You seem to think a great deal of him, +Miss Gower."</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>of course I do</i>! He's <i>so</i> handsome—so perfectly +gentlemanlike—so agreeable, and so—everything else. He's a real love +of a man."</p> + +<p>"Oh! the deuce take him!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Rivers!" said Gipsy, with a very shocked expression of +countenance.</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, be serious for once. I have had something to say to you this +long time, but you have been so precious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> careful to keep out of my +sight, I've had no chance to say it. Gipsy, do you <i>love</i> Sir George +Stuart?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Archie! <i>to be sure</i> I do."</p> + +<p>"Oh-h-h!" groaned Archie.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?—got the toothache?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, no. I have the heart-ache!"</p> + +<p>"Sorry to hear it. Better go to Deep Dale and consult Doctor Spider +about it."</p> + +<p>"Will you come with me?"</p> + +<p>"I've no objection. I'm going home to-morrow, and I'd just as lief have +you for an escort as any one else."</p> + +<p>"Then you are not going to be married to Sir George Stuart, Gipsy?" +exclaimed Archie, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Why, not just now, I think."</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, would you marry me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I wouldn't mind, if nobody better offers."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy! be serious; don't laugh at me now. You know you promised, +when a little girl, to be my little wife. Will you, <i>dear</i> Gipsy?"</p> + +<p>"There—gracious me! you're treading on Sambo's toes."</p> + +<p>A howl from an unfortunate black pug dog testified to the truth of this +remark.</p> + +<p>"Men are such awkward creatures! Poor Sambo! did he hurt you?" said +Gipsy, stooping and caressing the ugly little brute.</p> + +<p>"Oh, saints and angels! only hear her. She will drive me mad—I know she +will. Here I offer her my heart, and hand, and fortune (though I don't +happen to have such a thing about me), and she begins talking about +Sambo's toes. That girl will be the death of me. And when I die I'll +charge them to place on my tombstone, 'Died from an overdose of a +coquette.'"</p> + +<p>And Master Archie stamped up and down, and flung<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> his coat-tails about +with an utterly distracted expression of countenance.</p> + +<p>"Why, what nonsense are you going on with there?" inquired Gipsy, +pausing in her task of comforting Sambo, and looking at him in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" exclaimed Archie, pausing before her, and throwing himself +into a tragic attitude. "Infatuated girl! the heart you now cast from +you will haunt you in the dead hours of the night, when everything (but +the mosquitoes) is sleeping; it will be ever before you in your English +home, when you are the bride of Sir George (confound him!) Stuart; it +will——"</p> + +<p>But Master Archie could proceed no further; for Gipsy fell back in her +chair, fairly screaming with laughter. Archie made a desperate effort to +maintain his gravity, but the effort proved a failure, and he was forced +to join Gipsy in an uproarious peal.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" said Gipsy, wiping her eyes, "I don't know when I have +laughed so much."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Archie, in high dudgeon—"pretty thing to laugh at, too! +After breaking my heart, to begin grinning about it. Humph!"</p> + +<p>"You looked so funny—you looked——"</p> + +<p>Gipsy's voice was lost in another fit of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Come, now, Gipsy, like a good girl, don't laugh any more; but tell me, +<i>will</i> you marry me—will you be my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, you dear old goose, you! I never intended to be anything +else. You might have known that I'd be your wife, without making such a +fuss about it," said Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"And Sir George, Gipsy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, poor fellow, I gave him his <i>coup de conge</i> last night, and he set +out for England this morning."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy, my dear, you're a pearl without price!" exclaimed Archie, in +a rapture.</p> + +<p>"Glad to hear it, I'm sure. And now <i>do</i> go away, Archie, and don't +bother me any longer; for I must pack up my things and start for home +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"You little tyrant! Well, I am to accompany you, mind."</p> + +<p>"Just as you please—only <i>do</i> leave me."</p> + +<p>"Little termagant! Accept this ring as a betrothal gift."</p> + +<p>"Well, there—put it on, and for goodness' sake clear out."</p> + +<p>With a glance of comical despair, Mr. Rivers took his hat and quitted +the house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>GIPSY'S DARING.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock40"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"It is a fearful night; a feeble glare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Streams from the sick moon in the overclouded sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ridgy billows, with a mighty cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Rush on the foamy beaches wild and bare.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">What bark the madness of the waves will dare!"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> +<p style="margin-left: 70%;">—<span class="smcap">Byron.</span></p> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_g.png" alt="G" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +ipsy was once more at Sunset Hall. Archie had escorted her home and +then returned to Washington. He would have mentioned their engagement to +the squire, and asked his consent to their union, but Gipsy said:</p></div> + +<p>"No, you mustn't. I hate a fuss; and as I don't in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>tend to be married +for two or three years yet, it will be time enough to tell them all by +and by."</p> + +<p>So Archie, with a sigh, was forced to obey his capricious little love +and go back, after making her promise to let him come down every month +and see her; for she wouldn't write to him—it was "too much bother."</p> + +<p>It began again to seem like old times at St. Mark's. There was Gipsy at +Sunset Hall, keeping them all from dying of torpor, and astonishing the +whole neighborhood by her mad freaks. There was Minnette—the proud, +cold, but now beautiful Minnette—living alone at Deep Dale; for the +doctor had gone from home on business. There was sweet Celeste, the Star +of the Valley, in her little cottage home—the fairest, loveliest maiden +the sun ever shone upon.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely May morning. The air was made jocund with the songs of +birds; the balmy breeze scarce rippled the surface of the bay, where the +sunshine fell in golden glory.</p> + +<p>Through the open doors and windows of Valley Cottage the bright May +sunbeams fell warm and bright; they lingered in broad patches on the +white floor, and touched gently the iron-gray locks of Miss Hagar, as +she sat knitting in her leathern chair in the chimney-corner, as upright +and gray as ever. Years seemed to pass on without touching her; for just +as we first saw her at Lizzie Oranmore's bridal, the same does she +appear to-day.</p> + +<p>In the doorway stands a young girl, tall and graceful, dressed in soft +gray muslin, fastened at her slender waist by a gold-colored belt. <i>Can</i> +this young lady be our little, shy Celeste? Yes; here is the same superb +form, the same dainty little head, with its wealth of pale-gold hair; +the same clear, transparent complexion; the soft, dove-like eyes of +blue; the broad, white queenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> forehead; the little, rosy, smiling +mouth. Yes, it is Celeste—celestial, truly, with the promise of her +childhood more than fulfilled. The world and its flatterers—and she has +heard many—have had no power to spoil her pure heart, and she has +returned the same gentle, loving Celeste—the idol of all who know her, +radiating light and beauty wherever she goes, a very angel of charity to +the poor, and beloved and cherished by the rich. More hearts than +Celeste likes to think of have been laid at her feet, to be gently and +firmly, but sadly, refused; for that sound, unsullied heart has never +yet been stirred by the words of man.</p> + +<p>She stood in the doorway, gazing with parted lips and sparkling eyes on +the balmy beauty of that bright spring morning, with a hymn of gratitude +and love to the Author of all this beauty filling her mind.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the sylvan silence of the spot was broken by the thunder of +horse's hoofs, and the next instant Gipsy came bounding along upon the +back of her favorite Mignonne.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, dear Gipsy," said Celeste, with her own bright smile, as +she hastened to open the gate for her. "Have you been out, as usual, +hunting this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and there are the spoils," said Gipsy, throwing a well-filled +game-bag on the ground. "I come like a true hunter—a leal knight of the +gay greenwood—to lay them at the feet of my liege lady. I fancied a +canvas-back duck and a bright-winged partridge would not come amiss this +morning. I know my gallop has made me perfectly ravenous."</p> + +<p>"You shall have one of them presently for breakfast," said Celeste, +calling Curly, their little black maid-of-all-work. "Tie Mignonne there, +and come in."</p> + +<p>"By the way, Celeste, you don't seem to think it such an appalling act +to shoot birds now as you used to," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> Gipsy, springing from her +horse; "it was once a crime of the first magnitude in your eyes."</p> + +<p>"And I confess it seems a needless piece of cruelty to me still. I could +scarcely do it if I were starving, I think."</p> + +<p>"You always were—with reverence be it spoken—rather a coward, Celeste. +Do you remember the day I shot the bird that Louis saved for you, and +you fell fainting to the ground?" said Gipsy, laughing at the +remembrance.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I remember. I was rather an absurd little thing in those days," +said Celeste, smiling. "How I <i>did</i> love that unlucky little bird!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! that was because Louis gave it to you. There! don't blush. Apropos +of Louis, I wonder where he is now?"</p> + +<p>"In Rome, I suppose; at least Mrs. Oranmore told me so," replied +Celeste.</p> + +<p>"Yes; when last we heard from him he was studying the old masters, as he +calls them—or the old grannies, as Guardy calls them. I shouldn't +wonder if he became quite famous yet, and—oh, Celeste! where did you +get that pretty chain and cross?" abruptly asked Gipsy, as her eye fell +on the trinket.</p> + +<p>"A present," said Celeste, smiling and blushing.</p> + +<p>Gipsy's keen eyes were fixed on her face with so quizzical an +expression, that the rose-hue deepened to crimson on her fair cheek as +they passed into the house. And Gipsy went up and shook hands with Miss +Hagar, and seated herself on a low stool at her feet, to relate the +morning's adventures, while Celeste laid the cloth and set the table for +breakfast.</p> + +<p>After breakfast Gipsy rode off in the direction of Deep Dale. On +entering the parlor she found Minnette sitting reading.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>Minnette—now a tall, splendidly developed, womanly girl, with the +proud, handsome face of her childhood—rose and welcomed her guest with +cold courtesy. The old, fiery light lurked still in her black eyes; but +the world had learned her to subdue it, and a coldly-polite reserve had +taken the place of the violent outburst of passion so common in her +tempestuous childhood.</p> + +<p>"Don't you find it horribly dull here, Minnette?" said Gipsy, swallowing +a rising yawn.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Minnette; "I prefer solitude. There are few—<i>none</i>, +perhaps—who sympathize with me, and in books I find companions."</p> + +<p>"Well, I prefer less silent companions, for my part," said Gipsy. "I +don't believe in making an old hermit or bookworm of myself for +anybody."</p> + +<p>"Every one to her taste," was the cold rejoinder.</p> + +<p>"When do you expect your father home?" inquired Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"To-night."</p> + +<p>"Then he'll have a storm to herald his coming," said Gipsy, going to the +window and scanning the heavens with a practiced eye.</p> + +<p>"A storm—impossible!" said Minnette. "There is not a cloud in the sky."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, we shall have a storm," said Gipsy. "I read the sky as +truly as you do your books; and if he attempts to enter the bay +to-night, I'm inclined to think that the first land he makes will be the +bottom."</p> + +<p>Minnette heard this intelligence with the utmost coolness, saying only:</p> + +<p>"Indeed! I did not know you were such a judge of the weather. Well, +probably, when they see the storm coming, they will put into some place +until it is over."</p> + +<p>"If they don't, I wouldn't give much for their chance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> of life," said +Gipsy, as she arose to go; "but don't worry, Minnette—all may be right +yet."</p> + +<p>Minnette looked after her with a scornful smile. Fret! She had little +intention of doing it; and five minutes after the departure of Gipsy she +was so deeply immersed in her book as to forget everything else.</p> + +<p>As the day wore on and evening approached, Gipsy's prophecy seemed about +to prove true. Dark, leaden clouds rolled about the sky; the wind no +longer blew in a steady breeze, but howled in wild gusts. The bosom of +the bay was tossing and moaning wildly, heaving and plunging as though +struggling madly in agony. Gipsy seized her telescope, and running up to +one of the highest rooms in the old hall, swept an anxious glance across +the troubled face of the deep. Far out, scarcely distinguishable from +the white caps of the billows, she beheld the sail of a vessel driving, +with frightful rapidity, toward the coast—driving toward its own doom; +for, once near those foaming breakers covering the sunken reefs of +rocks, no human being could save her. Gipsy stood gazing like one +fascinated; and onward still the doomed bark drove—like a lost soul +rushing to its own destruction.</p> + +<p>Night and darkness at last shut out the ill-fated ship from her view. +Leaving the house, she hastily made her way to the shore, and standing +on a high, projecting peak, waited for the moon to rise, to view the +scene of tempest and death.</p> + +<p>It lifted its wan, spectral face at last from behind a bank of dull, +black clouds, and lit up with its ghastly light the heaving sea and +driving vessel. The tempest seemed momentarily increasing. The waves +boiled, and seethed, and foamed, and lashed themselves in fury against +the beetling rocks. And, holding by a projecting cliff, Gipsy stood +surveying the scene. You might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> have thought her the spirit of the +storm, looking on the tempest she had herself raised. Her black hair and +thin dress streamed in the wind behind her, as she stood leaning +forward, her little, wild, dark face looking strange and weird, with its +blazing eyes, and cheeks burning with the mad excitement of the scene. +Down below her, on the shore, a crowd of hardy fishermen were gathered, +watching with straining eyes the gallant craft that in a few moments +would be a broken ruin. On the deck could be plainly seen the crew, +making most superhuman exertions to save themselves from the terrible +fate impending over them.</p> + +<p>All in vain! Ten minutes more and they would be dashed to pieces. Gipsy +could endure the maddening sight no longer. Leaping from the cliff, she +sprang down the rocks, like a mountain kid, and landed among the +fishermen, who were too much accustomed to see her among them in scenes +like this to be much startled by it now.</p> + +<p>"Will you let them perish before your eyes?" she cried, wildly. "Are you +men, to stand here idle in a time like this? Out with the boats; and +save their lives!"</p> + +<p>"Impossible, Miss Gipsy!" answered half a dozen voices. "No boat could +live in such a surf."</p> + +<p>"Oh, great heaven! And must they die miserably before your very eyes, +without even making an effort to save them?" she exclaimed, +passionately, wringing her hands. "Oh, that I were a man! Listen! +Whoever will make the attempt shall receive five hundred dollars +reward!"</p> + +<p>Not one moved. Life could not be sacrificed for money.</p> + +<p>"There she goes!" cried a voice.</p> + +<p>Gipsy turned to look. A wild, prolonged shriek of mortal agony rose +above the uproar of the storm, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> the crew were left struggling for +life in the boiling waves.</p> + +<p>With a piercing cry, scarcely less anguished than their own, the mad +girl bounded to the shore, pushed off a light <i>batteau</i>, seized the +oars, and the next moment was dancing over the foaming waves.</p> + +<p>A shout of fear and horror arose from the shore at the daring act. She +heeded it not, as, bending all her energies to the task of guiding her +frail bark through the tempestuous billows, she bent her whole strength +to the oars.</p> + +<p>Oh! surely her guardian angel steered that boat on its errand of mercy +through the heaving, tempest-tossed sea! The salt spray seemed blinding +her as it dashed in her face; but on she flew, now balanced for a moment +on the top of a snowy hill of foam, the next, sunk down, down, as though +it were never more to rise.</p> + +<p>"Leap into the boat!" she cried, in a clear, shrill voice, that made +itself heard, even above the storm.</p> + +<p>Strong hands clutched it with the desperation of death, and two heavy +bodies rolled violently in. The weight nearly overset the light skiff; +but, bending her body to the oars, she righted it again.</p> + +<p>"Where are the rest?" she exclaimed, wildly.</p> + +<p>"All gone to the bottom. Give me the oars!" cried a voice.</p> + +<p>She felt herself lifted from where she sat, placed gently in the bottom +of the boat, and then all consciousness left her, and, overcome by the +excitement, she fainted where she lay.</p> + +<p>When she again opened her eyes she was lying in the arms of some one on +the shore, with a circle of troubled, anxious faces around her. She +sprang up wildly.</p> + +<p>"Are they saved?" she exclaimed, looking around.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; thanks to your heroism, our lives are preserved," said a voice +beside her.</p> + +<p>She turned hastily round. It was Doctor Nicholas Wiseman. Another form +lay stark and rigid on the sand, with men bending over him.</p> + +<p>A deadly sickness came over Gipsy—she knew not why it was. She turned +away, with a violent shudder, from his outstretched hand, and bent over +the still form on the sand. All made way for her with respectful +deference; and she knelt beside him and looked in his face. He was a +boy—a mere youth, but singularly handsome, with a look of deep repose +on his almost beautiful face.</p> + +<p>"Is he dead?" she cried, in a voice of piercing anguish.</p> + +<p>"No; only stunned," said the doctor, coming over and feeling his pulse.</p> + +<p>"Take him to Sunset Hall, then," said Gipsy, turning to some of the men +standing by.</p> + +<p>A shutter was procured, and the senseless form of the lad placed upon +it, and, raising it on their shoulders, they bore him in the direction +of the old mansion-house.</p> + +<p>Doctor Wiseman went toward his own home. And Gipsy, the free mountain +maid, leaped up the rocks, feeling, for the first time in her life, sick +and giddy. Oh! better, far better for her had they but perished in the +seething waves!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>THE SAILOR BOY'S DOOM.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock30"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With gentle hand and soothing tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She bore the leech's part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while she o'er his sick bed hung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He paid her with his heart."—<span class="smcap">Scott.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_t.png" alt="T" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +he sunshine of a breezy June morning fell pleasantly into the chamber +of the invalid. It was a bright, airy room—a perfect paradise of a sick +chamber—with its snowy curtained bed, its tempting easy-chair, its +white lace window curtains fluttering softly in the morning air. The +odor of flowers came wafted through the open casement; and the merry +chirping of a bright-winged canary, hanging in the sunshine, filled the +room with its cheerful music.</p></div> + +<p>Reclining in the easy-chair, gazing longingly out at the glorious +sunshine, sat the young sailor whose life Gipsy had saved. His heavy +dark hair fell in shining waves over his pale, intelligent brow; and his +large blue eyes had a look of dreamy melancholy that few female hearts +could have resisted.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his eye lighted up, and his whole face brightened, as a clear, +sweet voice, singing a gay carol, met his ear. Gipsy still retained her +old habit of singing as she walked; and the next moment the door opened, +and she stood, like some bright vision, before him, with cheeks glowing, +eyes sparkling, and her countenance bright and radiant from her morning +ride; her dark purple riding-habit setting off to the best advantage her +straight, slight; rounded form; and her jaunty riding-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>hat, with its +long, sweeping, sable plume, giving her the air of a young mountain +queen, crowned with vitality, and sceptered with life and beauty.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have had such a charming canter over the hills this morning," she +cried, with her wild, breezy laugh. "How I wished you had been well +enough to accompany me. Mignonne fairly flew, leaping over yawning +chasms and rocks as though he felt not the ground beneath him. But I am +forgetting—how do you feel this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Much better, sweet lady. Who could be long ill with such a nurse?" he +replied, while his fine eyes lit up with admiration and gratitude.</p> + +<p>Gipsy, be it known, had installed herself as the nurse of the young +sailor; and, by her sleepless care and tender nursing, had almost +restored him from death to life. And when he became convalescent, she +would sit by his bedside for hours, reading, talking, and singing for +him, until gratitude on his part ripened into fervent love; while she +only looked upon him as she would on any other stranger—taking an +interest in him only on account of his youth and friendliness, and +because she had saved his life.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm glad to hear it, I'm sure! I want you to hurry and get well, +so you can ride out with me. Are you a good horseman?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so," he said, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Because, if you're not, you mustn't attempt to try our hills. It takes +an expert rider, I can tell you, to gallop over them without breaking +his neck."</p> + +<p>"Yet <i>you</i> venture, fairest lady."</p> + +<p>"<i>Me?</i> Ha, ha! Why, I've been on horseback ever since I was two years +old. My horse is my other self. I could as soon think of living without +laughing as without Mignonne."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then, sweet lady, you will kindly be my teacher in the art of riding."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wouldn't want better fun; but look here, Mr. Danvers, don't be +'sweet lady'-ing me! I ain't used to it, you know. People generally call +me 'Monkey,' 'Imp,' 'Torment,' 'Wretch,' and other pet names of a like +nature. But if you don't like any of them, call me Gipsy, or Gipsy +Gower, but don't call me 'sweet lady' again. You see, I never could +stand nicknames."</p> + +<p>"And may I ask you why you have received those names?" inquired the +young midshipman (for such he was), laughing.</p> + +<p>"Why, because I <i>am</i> an imp, a wretch, and always was—and always will +be, for that matter. I believe I was made to keep the world alive. Why, +everybody in St. Mark's would be dead of the blues if it weren't for +me."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have heard of some of your wild antics. That good old lady, Mrs. +Gower, was with me last night, and we had quite a long conversation +about you, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"Poor dear aunty, she's at her wits' end, sometimes, to know what to do +with me. And, by that same token, here she comes. Speak of somebody, and +he'll appear, you know."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gower opened the door, flushed and palpitating with her walk +up-stairs. Poor Mrs. Gower was "waxing fat" with years; and it was no +easy task for her to toil her way up the long staircase of Sunset Hall.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy, my dear!" she exclaimed, all in a glow of pleasurable +excitement, "guess who's come!"</p> + +<p>"Who, who?" cried Gipsy, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Archie!"</p> + +<p>Up sprang Gipsy, flew past Mrs. Gower, and was down the stairs in a +twinkling.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Archie! who the deuce is he?" thought the young midshipman, with a +jealous twinge.</p> + +<p>"You seem to have brought Miss Gower pleasant news," he remarked, by way +of drawing her out, after he had answered her inquiries about his +health.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, it's natural she should be glad to meet her old playmate," +replied the unsuspecting old lady.</p> + +<p>"Ah! her old playmate. Then she has known him for a long time?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; they were children together, grew up together, and were always +fond of one another. It has always been my dearest wish to see them +united; and I dare say they will be yet."</p> + +<p>The youth's face was turned to the window as she spoke, or good Mrs. +Gower might have been startled by his paleness. As he asked no more +questions, the worthy old lady began to think he might wish to be left +to himself; so, after a few general directions to be sure and take care +of himself and not catch cold, she quitted the room.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Archie and Gipsy were holding a very animated conversation in +the parlor below. Archie was relating how he had undertaken a very +important case, that would call him from home for four or five months; +and that, when it was over, he would be rich enough to set up an +establishment for himself, and return to St. Mark's to claim his little +bride.</p> + +<p>"And now, Gipsy," he concluded, "what mischief have you been +perpetrating since I saw you last? Who have you locked up, or shot, or +ran away with since?"</p> + +<p>In reply, Gipsy related the story of the wreck, and went into ecstasies +on the beauty of Mr. Harry Danvers, U. S. N. Archie listened with a +savage frown, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> grew perceptibly more savage every moment. Gipsy saw +it, and maliciously praised him more and more.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Archie, he's the handsomest fellow I ever met. So agreeable and +polite, with such a beautiful, melancholy countenance!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, curse his melancholy countenance!"</p> + +<p>"For shame, sir! How can you speak so of my friends? But it's just like +you. You always were a cross, disagreeable old thing—now then!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'm not such a sweet seraph as this agreeable and polite young son +of Neptune," said Mr. Rivers, with a withering sneer. "Just let me catch +sight of his 'beautiful, melancholy countenance,' and maybe I'll spoil +its beauty for him."</p> + +<p>"Now, Archie, you're real hateful. I'm sure you'll like him when you see +him."</p> + +<p>"Like him! Yes, I'd like to blow his brains out."</p> + +<p>"No, you mustn't, either; he's too handsome to be killed. Oh, Archie, +when he laughs he looks so charming!"</p> + +<p>"Confound him! <i>I'll</i> make him laugh on the other side of his mouth!" +growled the exasperated Archie.</p> + +<p>"He's got <i>such</i> a sweet mouth and <i>such</i> lovely white teeth!" continued +the tantalizing fairy.</p> + +<p>"I wish he and his white teeth were at the bottom of the Red Sea!" burst +out Archie, in a rage.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Rivers, you're positively jealous!" said Gipsy, looking very +much surprised indeed.</p> + +<p>"Jealous! Yes, I should think so. You are enough to drive any one +jealous. Suppose I began raving about young ladies—their 'melancholy +countenances,' and 'sweet mouths,' and 'white teeth,' and all such +stuff—how would you like it, I want to know?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I shouldn't care."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't? Oh, Jupiter Olympus! Only hear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> <i>that</i>!" exclaimed +Archie, striding up and down in a towering passion. "That shows all you +care about <i>me</i>! Going and falling in love with the first old tarry +sailor you meet! I won't endure it! I'll blow my brains out—I'll——"</p> + +<p>"Well, don't do it in the house, then. Pistols make a noise, and might +disturb Mr. Danvers."</p> + +<p>Archie fell into a chair with a deep groan.</p> + +<p>"There, don't look so dismal. I declare, you give me a fit of the blues +every time you come to see me. Why can't you be pleasant, and laugh?"</p> + +<p>"Laugh!" exclaimed poor Archie.</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>laugh</i>! I'm sure you used to be forever grinning. Poor, dear Mr. +Danvers is sick, yet <i>he</i> laughs."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Danvers again!" shouted Archie, springing to his feet. "May Lucifer +twist Mr. Danvers' neck for him! I won't stay another minute in the +house. I'll clear out, and never see you more. I'll never enter your +presence again, you heartless girl!"</p> + +<p>"Well, won't you take a cup of coffee before you go?" said Gipsy, with +her sweetest smile.</p> + +<p>"Hallo, Jupiter! Jupiter, I say, bring round my horse. And now, most +faithless of women, I leave you forever. Life is now a blank to me; and, +ere yonder sun sets, I shall be in eternity."</p> + +<p>"Is it possible? Won't you write when you get there, and let me know if +it's a good place for lawyers to settle in?"</p> + +<p>Oh! such a groan as followed this! Casting a tragical look of despair at +Gipsy, who sat smiling serenely, Archie rushed from the house.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later he was back again. Gipsy had stretched herself on a +sofa, and was apparently fast asleep.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Heartless girl!" exclaimed Archie, shaking her; "wake up, Gipsy!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! is it you?" said Gipsy, drowsily opening her eyes. "What did you +wake me up for? I thought you had started on your journey to eternity."</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, shall I go?"</p> + +<p>"Just as you please, Archie—only let me go to sleep, and don't bother +me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy!—you cruel coquette! won't you bid me stay?"</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>stay</i>, then! I wish to goodness you wouldn't be such a pest."</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, tell me—do you love me or Mr. Danvers best?"</p> + +<p>"I don't love either of you—there, now! And I tell you what, Archie +Rivers, if you don't go off and let me get asleep, I'll never speak to +you again. Mind that!"</p> + +<p>With a deep sigh, Archie obeyed, and walked out of the room with a most +dejected expression of countenance. No sooner was he gone than Gipsy +sprang up, and, clapping her hands, danced round the room—her eyes +sparkling with delight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's such fun!" she exclaimed. "Poor, dear Archie!—if I haven't +made him a victim to the 'green-eyed monster!' Mr. Danvers, indeed! As +if that dear, good-natured Archie wasn't worth all the Mr. Danvers that +ever adorned the quarterdeck! Oh! won't I flirt, though, and make the +'distinguished Mr. Rivers' so jealous, that he won't know whether he's +standing on his head or his heels! If I <i>am</i> to settle down into a +hum-drum Mrs. Rivers some day, I'll have as much frolic as I can before +it. So, Master Archie, look out for the 'wrath that's to come;' for your +agonies won't move me in the least."</p> + +<p>And never did any one keep her word more faithfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> than Gipsy. During +the fortnight that Archie was to stay with them she flirted unmercifully +with the handsome young midshipman, who was now able to ride out, quite +unconscious of all the hopes she was rousing in his bosom. Poor Gipsy! +little did she dream that, while she rode by his side, and bestowed upon +him her enchanting smiles, and wore the colors he liked, and sang the +songs he loved, to torment the unhappy Archie, that he, believing her +serious, had already surrendered his heart to the bewitching sprite, and +reposed in the blissful dream of one day calling her his!</p> + +<p>Archie Rivers <i>was</i> jealous. Many were the ferocious glances he cast +upon the young sailor; and many and dire were his threats of vengeance. +But Gipsy, mad girl, only listened and laughed, and knew not that +<i>another</i> pair of ears heard those threats, and would one day use them +to her destruction.</p> + +<p>But matters were now drawing to a crisis. The young midshipman was now +quite restored to health, and found himself obliged to turn his thoughts +toward his own home. Archie's fortnight had elapsed; but still he +lingered—too jealous to leave while his rival remained.</p> + +<p>One bright moonlight night the three were gathered in the cool, wide +porch in front of the mansion. Gipsy stood in the doorway—her white +dress fluttering in the breeze—binding in her dark, glossy curls a +wreath of crimson rosebuds, given her a few moments previous by Mr. +Danvers. All her smiles, and words, and glances were directed toward +him. Archie was apparently forgotten.</p> + +<p>"Please sing one of your charming songs, Miss Gipsy; this is just the +hour for music," said Mr. Danvers.</p> + +<p>"With pleasure. What shall it be?—your favorite?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> inquired Gipsy, +taking her guitar and seating herself at his feet.</p> + +<p>"If you will be so good," he replied, his eyes sparkling with pleasure +at her evident preference.</p> + +<p>Archie's brow grew dark. He hated the sailor's favorite song, because it +<i>was</i> his favorite. This Gipsy well knew; and her brown eyes twinkled +with mischief, as she began, in her clear, sweet voice:</p> + +<div class="poemblock40"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Sleeping, I dream, love—I dream, love, of thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the bright waves, love, floating with thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light in thy soft hair played the soft wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fondly thy white arms around me were twined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as thy song, love, swelled o'er the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fondly thy blue eyes beamed, love, on me.'"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>She hesitated a moment, and looked up in his face, as though really +intending the words for him. He was bending over her, pale and +panting—his blue eyes blazing with a light that brought the crimson +blood in a rosy tide to her very temples. She stopped abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Go on!" he said, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>She hesitated, glanced at Archie, and seeing the storm-cloud on his +brow, the demon of mischief once more conquered her better nature, and +she resumed:</p> + +<div class="poemblock40"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Soon o'er the bright waves howled forth the gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fiercely the lightning flashed on our sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as our frail bark drove through the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine eyes, like loadstones, beamed, love, on me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, heart, awaken!—wrecked on lone shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art forsaken!—dream, heart, no more.'"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Ere the last words were uttered, Archie had seized his hat and rushed +from the house; and Danvers, forgetting everything save the entrancing +creature at his feet, clasped her suddenly in his arms, and passionately +exclaimed:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy! my love! my life, my beautiful mountain sprite!—can you, +will you love me?"</p> + +<p>With a wild, sharp cry of terror and anger, she broke from his arms, and +sprang back, with flashing eyes.</p> + +<p>"Back, sir, back!—I command you! How <i>dare</i> you attempt such a liberty +with me?"</p> + +<p>How beautiful she looked in her wrath, with her blazing eyes, and +crimson cheeks, and straight little form drawn up to its full height, in +surprise and indignation.</p> + +<p>He stood gazing at her for a moment—amazed, thunderstruck at the +change. Then, seeing only her enchanting beauty, he took a step forward, +threw himself at her feet, and broke forth passionately:</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, I love you—I worship you. Have you been mocking me all this +time?—or do you love me, too?"</p> + +<p>"Rise, sir! I have neither been mocking you, nor do I love you! Rise! +rise! Kneel not to me!"</p> + +<p>"And I have been deceived? Oh, falsest of false ones! why did you learn +me to love you?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Danvers, don't call me names. As to the learning you to love <i>me</i>, +I never attempted such a thing in my life! I'd scorn to do it," she +said, indignantly; but even while she spoke, the blood rushed in a fiery +torrent to her face, and then back to her heart, for she thought of all +the encouragement her merciless flirtation must have given him.</p> + +<p>"You did, Gipsy, you know you <i>did</i>!" he vehemently exclaimed. "Every +encouragement that could be given to a lover, you gave to me; and +I—fool that I was—I believed you, never dreaming that I should find a +flinty, hardened flirt in one whom I took to be a pure-hearted mountain +maiden."</p> + +<p>Had Gipsy felt herself innocent of the charge, how indignantly she would +have denied it. But the con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>sciousness of guilt sent the crimson once +more to her brow, as she replied in a low, hurried tone:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Danvers, I have done wrong! Forgive me! As heaven is my witness, I +dreamed not that you cared for me. It was my mad, wild love of mischief +brought all this about. Mr. Danvers, it is as yet a secret, but Mr. +Rivers is my betrothed husband. Some fiend prompted me to make him +jealous, and to accomplish that end I—I blush to say it—flirted with +you; alas, never dreaming you thought anything of it. And now that I +have acknowledged my fault, will you forgive me, and—be my friend?"</p> + +<p>She extended her hand. He smiled bitterly, and passed her without +touching it. Then leaving the house, he mounted his horse and galloped +furiously away. Prophetic, indeed, were the words with which her song +had ended—words that came pealing through the dim aisles of the forest +after him, as he plunged frantically along:</p> + +<div class="poemblock34"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, heart, awaken!—wrecked on lone shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art forsaken!—dream, heart, no more!"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Gipsy stood still in the porch, cold and pale, awaiting his return. But +though she waited until the stars grew dim in the sky, he came not. +Morning dawned, and found her pale with undefined fear, but still he was +absent.</p> + +<p>After breakfast, Archie came over, still angry and sullen, after the +previous night's scene, to find Gipsy quieter and more gentle than he +had ever seen her before in her life.</p> + +<p>"I wish he would come! I wish he would come!" cried her wild, excited +heart, as she paced up and down, until her eyes grew bright and her +cheeks grew burning hot, with feverish watching and vague fear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You look ill and excited, Gipsy. A canter over the hills will do you +good," said Archie, anxiously.</p> + +<p>She eagerly assented, and leaping on Mignonne's back, dashed away at a +tremendous pace, yet could not go half quick enough to satisfy her +restless longing to fly, fly, she knew not where.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, Gipsy?" cried Archie, who found some difficulty to +keep up with the break-neck pace at which she rode.</p> + +<p>"To the Black Gorge," was her reply, as she thundered over the cliff.</p> + +<p>"Why, Gipsy! what possesses you to go to that wild place?" said Archie, +in surprise.</p> + +<p>"I don't know—I feel as if I must go there! Don't talk to me, Archie! I +believe I'm crazy this morning!"</p> + +<p>She flew on swifter than ever, until they reached the spot—a huge, +black, yawning gulf among the hills. She rode so close to the fearful +brink that Archie's heart stood still in horror.</p> + +<p>"Are you mad, Gipsy?" he cried, seizing her bridle-rein and forcing her +back. "One false step, and your brains would be dashed out against the +rocks."</p> + +<p>But, fixing her eyes on the dark chasm, she answered him only by a wild, +prolonged shriek, so full of piercing anguish that his blood seemed +curdling in his veins, while, with bloodless face and quivering finger, +she pointed to the gulf.</p> + +<p>He leaped from his horse and approached the dizzy edge. And there a +sight met his eyes that froze his heart with horror.</p> + +<p>"Great God!" he cried, springing back, with a face deadly white. "A +horse and rider lie dead and mangled below!"</p> + +<p>A deadly faintness came over Gipsy; the ground seemed reeling around +her, and countless stars danced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> before her eyes. For a moment she was +on the verge of swooning, then by a powerful effort the tide of life +rolled back, and she leaped from her horse and stood by his side.</p> + +<p>"It is impossible to reach the bottom," cried Archie, in a voice low +with horror. "A cat could hardly clamber down those perpendicular +sides."</p> + +<p>"I can do it, Archie; I often went up and down there when a child," +exclaimed Gipsy; and ere Archie could restrain her, the fearless girl +had caught hold of a stunted spruce tree and swung herself over the edge +of the appalling gorge.</p> + +<p>Archie Rivers scarcely breathed; he felt as though he scarcely lived +while she rapidly descended by catching the matted shrubs growing along +its sides. She was down at last, and bending over the mangled form +below.</p> + +<p>"Gipsy! Gipsy! do you recognize him?" cried Archie.</p> + +<p>She looked up, and he saw a face from which every trace of life seemed +to have fled.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, hoarsely. "<i>It is Danvers!</i> Ride—ride for your life +to Sunset Hall, and bring men and ropes to take him up!"</p> + +<p>In an instant he was in the saddle, and off. In less than an hour he +returned, with half the population in the village after him, whom the +news of the catastrophe had brought together.</p> + +<p>Ropes were lowered to Gipsy, who still remained where Archie had left +her, and the lifeless form of the young man drawn up. Gipsy, refusing +all aid, clambered up the side, and the mournful cavalcade set out for +Sunset Hall.</p> + +<p>He was quite dead. It was evident he had fallen, in the darkness, into +the gorge, and been instantly killed. His fair hair hung, clotted with +blood, round his fore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>head: and a fearful gash in the temple showed the +wound whence his young life had flowed away. And Gipsy, feeling as +though she were his murderess, sat by his side, and, gazing on the +still, cold form, shed the first bitter tears that had ever fallen from +her eyes. By some strange coincidence, it was in that self-same spot the +dead body of Barry Oranmore had been found.</p> + +<p>Poor Gipsy! The sunshine was fast fading out of her sky, and the clouds +of fate gathering thick and fast around her. She wept now for +another—knowing not how soon she was to weep for herself.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<h3>THE SPIDER WEAVES HIS WEB.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A fearful sign stands in thy house of life—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An enemy—a fiend lurks close behind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The radiance of thy planet. Oh, be warned!"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">—<span class="smcap">Coleridge.</span></p> + +<div class="poemblock30"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And now a darker hour ascends."—<span class="smcap">Marmion.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_a.png" alt="A" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> + week after the event recorded in the last chapter Archie went back to +the city. Before he went, he had obtained a promise from Gipsy—who had +grown strangely still and gentle since the death of Danvers—to become +his wife immediately upon his return; but, with her usual eccentricity, +she refused to allow him to make their engagement public.</p></div> + +<p>"Time enough by and by," was still her answer; and Archie was forced to +be content.</p> + +<p>Gipsy was, for a while, sad and quiet, but both were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> foreign to her +character; and, with the natural buoyancy of youth, she shook off her +gloom, and soon once more her merry laugh made music through the old +house.</p> + +<p>Doctor Nicholas Wiseman sometimes made his appearance at Sunset Hall of +late. Lizzie was suffering from a low fever; and as he was the only +physician in St. Mark's, he was called in.</p> + +<p>As he sat one day in the parlor at luncheon with the squire, Gipsy came +tripping along with her usual elastic step, and touching her hat +gallantly to the gentlemen, ran up to her own room. The squire's eyes +followed her with a look of fond pride.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see such another charming little vixen?" he asked, turning +to the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Miss Gower's certainly an extraordinary young lady," said the doctor, +dryly. "I have often been surprised, Squire Erliston, that you should +treat your housekeeper's niece as one of your own family."</p> + +<p>"She's not my housekeeper's niece," blurted out the squire; "she +was——"</p> + +<p>He paused, suddenly recollecting that the discovery of Gipsy was a +secret.</p> + +<p>"She was what?" said the doctor, fixing his keen eyes on the old man's +face.</p> + +<p>"Well, hang it, Wiseman, I suppose it makes no difference whether I tell +<i>you</i> or not. Gipsy is not Mrs. Gower's niece: she is a foundling."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the doctor, pricking up his ears.</p> + +<p>"Yes, last Christmas Eve, just seventeen years ago, Mrs. Gower, +returning from A——, found Gipsy lying on the beach, near the south end +of the city."</p> + +<p>Long habit had given Dr. Wiseman full control over his emotions, but now +the blood rushed in a purple tide to his sallow face, as he leaped from +his chair and fairly shouted:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>What!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Eh? Lord bless the man!—what's the matter?" said the squire, staring +at him until his little fat eyes seemed ready to burst from their +sockets.</p> + +<p>"What did you say?—found her on the beach on Christmas Eve, seventeen +years ago?" said the doctor, seizing him fiercely by the arm, and +glaring upon him with his yellow eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I said so. What in the name of all the demons is the matter with +you?" roared the squire, shaking him off. "What do <i>you</i> know about it?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing! nothing! nothing!" replied the doctor, remembering himself, +and sinking back in his chair. "Pray, go on."</p> + +<p>The squire eyed him suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"My dear sir," said the doctor, every trace of emotion now passed away, +"forgive my violence. But, really, the story seemed so improbable——"</p> + +<p>"Improbable or not, sir," interrupted the squire, angry at being +doubted, "it's true as Gospel. It was a snowy, unpleasant night. Mrs. +Gower and Jupiter were returning from the city, and took the shore road +in preference to going over the hills. As they went along, Mrs. Gower +was forced to get out on account of the dangerous road; and hearing a +child cry, she stooped down, and found Gipsy lying wrapped up in a +shawl, in the sand. Well, sir, <i>my</i> housekeeper, as a matter of +course—being a humane woman—brought the child (which could not have +been a week old) home, and gave it her name. And <i>that</i>, sir, is the +history of Gipsy Gower, let it seem ever so improbable."</p> + +<p>Like lightning there flashed across the mind of the doctor the +recollection of the advancing sleigh-bells which had startled him from +the beach. This, then, was the secret of her disappearance! This, then, +was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> the child of Esther Erliston and Alfred Oranmore! This wild, +untamed, daring elf was the heiress, in her mother's right, of all the +broad lands of the Erlistons. She had been brought up as a dependent in +the house of which she was the rightful heiress: and the squire dreamed +not that his "monkey" was his grandchild!</p> + +<p>Thoughts like these flashed like lightning through the mind of Dr. +Wiseman. The sudden, startling discovery bewildered him; he felt unequal +to the task of conversing. And making some excuse, he arose abruptly, +entered his gig, and letting the reins fall on his horse's neck, allowed +him to make the best of his way home; while, with his head dropped on +his breast, he pondered on the strange disclosure he had just heard.</p> + +<p>No one living, it was evident, knew who she was, save himself. What +would old Dame Oranmore say when she heard it? Wretch as he was, he +found himself forced to acknowledge the hand of a ruling Providence in +all this. The child who had been cast out to die had been nurtured in +the home that was hers by right. By <i>his</i> hand the mother had perished; +yet the heroism of the daughter had preserved his worthless life.</p> + +<p>"What use shall I make of this discovery?" he mused, as he rode along. +"How can I turn it to my own advantage? If I wish it, I can find little +difficulty in convincing the world that she is the rightful heiress of +Mount Sunset, instead of Louis Oranmore. But how to do it, without +implicating myself—that's the question. There was no witness to the +death-bed scene of Esther Erliston; and I can assert that Madam Oranmore +caused me to remove the child, without mentioning the mother at all. I +can also easily feign some excuse for leaving her in the snow—talk +about my remorse and anguish at finding her gone, and all that. Now, if +I could only get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> this hare-brained girl securely in my power, in such a +way as to make her money the price of her freedom, I would not hesitate +one moment about proclaiming it all. But how to get her in my power—she +is keen and wide-awake, with all her madness, and not half so easily +duped as most girls of her age. Let me think!"</p> + +<p>His head fell lower, his claw-like hands opened and shut as though +clutching some one, his brows knit in a hard knot, and his eyes seemed +burning holes in the ground, with their wicked, immovable gaze.</p> + +<p>At last, his mind seemed to be made up. Lifting his head, he said, with +calm, grim determination:</p> + +<p>"Yes, my mind is made up; that—girl—shall—be—my—<span class="smcap">WIFE</span>!"</p> + +<p>Again he paused. His project, when repeated aloud, seemed so impossible +to accomplish that it almost startled him.</p> + +<p>"It may be difficult to bring about," he said, as if in answer to his +momentary hesitation. "No doubt it will; but, nevertheless, it shall, it +will, it <i>must</i> be done! Once her husband, and I shall have a legal +right to everything she possesses. The world need not know I have made +the discovery until after our marriage; it shall think it is for love I +marry her. Love!—ha, ha, ha! Just fancy Dr. Wiseman, at the age of +fifty-nine, falling in love with a chit of a girl of seventeen! Well, I +shall set my wits to work; and if I fail to accomplish it, it will be +the first time I have ever failed in aught I have undertaken. She calls +me a spider; let her take care lest she be caught—lest her bright wings +are imprisoned in the web I will weave. Her opposition will be fierce +and firm; and, if I have studied her aright, she can only be conquered +through those she loves. That she loves that whipper-snapper of a nephew +of mine, I have long known; and yet that very love shall make her +become<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> my wife. And so my bright little Gipsy Gower—or Gipsy +Oranmore—from this day forth you are mine!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Look here, aunty," said Gipsy, following Mrs. Gower, as she wandered +through the house, brush in hand, "what brings that old spider here so +often of late? He and Guardy appear to be as thick as two +pickpockets—though, a few years ago, Guardy detested the sight of him. +They are for everlasting closeted together, plotting something. Now, +aunty, it looks suspicious, don't it?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid Dr. Wiseman is drawing your guardian into some rash +speculation," said Mrs. Gower. "The squire is always muttering about +'stocks,' and 'interest,' and such things. I am afraid the doctor is +using him for his own purposes. Heaven forgive me if I wrong him!"</p> + +<p>"Wrong him! I tell you, aunty, that Spider's a regular snake. I wouldn't +trust him as far as I could see him. He has a way of looking at me that +I don't half like. Whenever I'm in the room he stares and stares at me, +as if I were some natural curiosity. Perhaps he's falling in love with +me. There! I tell you what, aunty—I've just hit the right thing in the +middle—he's meditating whether or not he'll raise me to the dignity of +Mrs. Spider Wiseman—I know he is!" exclaimed Gipsy, laughing, little +dreaming how near she had stumbled to the truth.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, child. A man of Dr. Wiseman's age and habits has little +thought of taking a wife, much less such a wild one as you. I hope it +may all turn out well, though I have my doubts."</p> + +<p>"So have I," said Gipsy; "and I'm going to keep a bright lookout for +breakers ahead. If that yellow old ogre tries to bamboozle poor, dear, +simple Guardy, he'll find himself in a worse scrape than when I saved +him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> from drowning. I know I was born to be a knight-errant, and protect +innocent old men, and astonish the world generally. And now I must run +up stairs, and see if I can do anything for poor little Aunt Liz."</p> + +<p>While Gipsy was conversing with Mrs. Gower, a dialogue of a different +nature was going on in the parlor betwixt the squire and the doctor.</p> + +<p>Artfully had Dr. Wiseman's plans been laid, and skillfully were they +executed. With his oily, persuasive words, and flattering tongue, he had +got the squire completely and irrecoverably in his power, in order that +the hand of his ward might be the price of his freedom.</p> + +<p>Dr. Wiseman knew the squire always had a mania for speculating. Taking +advantage of this, he entrapped him into investing in some mad scheme, +which failed, as the doctor well knew it would, leaving the squire +hopelessly in debt. Of all his creditors he owed the doctor himself the +most; for that obliging man had insisted on lending him large sums of +ready money. And now the time of payment was at hand, and where should +he obtain the money?</p> + +<p>Squire Erliston was rich—that is, the estate of Mount Sunset was in +itself a princely fortune; but this was to descend to his grandson; and +the squire had too much pride to allow it to go to him burdened with +debt. Neither could he mortgage any part of it to pay off the debt. He +felt that his heir ought not to suffer for his own madness. Besides, he +did not wish his grandson to know how egregiously he had allowed himself +to be duped by a set of sharpers. Therefore he now sat listening to the +doctor, half-stupefied at learning the extent of his losses—the amount +of debts which he had no means of paying; while the doctor condoled with +him outwardly, and chuckled inwardly at the success of his plans.</p> + +<p>"Moore, to whom you are indebted to the amount of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> twenty thousand +dollars, even goes so far as to threaten law proceedings if he is not +immediately paid," said the doctor, continuing the conversation.</p> + +<p>The squire groaned.</p> + +<p>"I told him it might not be convenient for you to meet so many heavy +liabilities at once; but he would not listen to reason—said he would +give you a week to deliberate, and if at the end of that time the money +was not forthcoming, your <i>rascality</i>, as he termed it, should be openly +proclaimed to the world, and the law would force you to pay."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord!" said the squire, writhing inwardly.</p> + +<p>"His intention, without doubt, is to obtain a claim on Mount Sunset; +and, your other creditors joining him, the whole estate will finally +become theirs."</p> + +<p>"Never!" shouted the squire, leaping fiercely to his feet. "I will shoot +every villain among them first! Mount Sunset has been in our family for +years, and no gang of swindlers shall ever possess it."</p> + +<p>"My dear sir," said the doctor, soothingly, "do not be excited. It is +useless, and will only make matters worse. You see you are completely in +their power, and there is no possible hope of escape. In spite of all +you can do, I fear Mount Sunset will be theirs, and you and your family +will be turned out upon the world, comparatively speaking, beggars."</p> + +<p>The unhappy squire sank back in his chair; and, covering his face with +his hands, writhed and groaned in mental torture.</p> + +<p>"Your only course now," continued the merciless doctor, fixing his +snake-like eyes with lurking triumph on his victim, "is to write to your +grandson, confess all to him, and bring him home. He is an artist of +some note, they say. Most probably, therefore, he will be able<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> to +support you—though it may seem strange to him first to work for his +living."</p> + +<p>"Work for his living!" shouted the squire, maddened by the words. "Louis +Oranmore work for his living! No, sir! he has not sunk so low as that +yet. If need be, he has the property of his grandmother Oranmore still +remaining."</p> + +<p>"The property of Mrs. Oranmore will not be his until her death, which +may not be this ten years yet. She is hard and penurious, and would +hardly give him a guinea to keep him from starving. Besides, would +<i>you</i>, Squire Erliston, live on the bounty of Mrs. Oranmore?" said the +doctor, with a sarcastic sneer.</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I would die of starvation first!" replied the squire, almost +fiercely. "But she, or some one else, might lend me the money to pay off +these accursed debts."</p> + +<p>"Not on such security as you would give, Squire Erliston," said the +doctor, calmly. "In fact, my dear sir, it is useless to think of +escaping your fate. Mount Sunset <i>must</i> be given up to satisfy these +men!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, fool! fool! fool!—miserable old fool that I was, to allow myself +to be so wretchedly duped!" groaned the squire, in bitter anguish and +remorse. "Better for me had I never been born, than that such disgrace +should be mine in my old age! And Louis!—poor Louis! But I will never +see him again. If Mount Sunset be taken from me it will break my heart. +Every tree and picture about the old place is hallowed by the memory of +the past; and now that I should lose it through my own blind, miserable +folly! Oh! woe is me!" And, burying his great head in his hands, the +unhappy old man actually sobbed outright.</p> + +<p>Now had the hour of Dr. Wiseman's triumph come; now was the time to make +his daring proposal. Awhile<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> he sat gloating over the agonies of his +victim; and then, in slow, deliberate tones, he said:</p> + +<p>"But in all this darkness, Squire Erliston, there still remains one ray +of light—<i>one</i> solitary hope. What would you do if I were to offer to +cancel what you owe me, to pay off all your other debts, and free you +once more?"</p> + +<p>"Do!" exclaimed the squire, leaping in his excitement from the chair. +"<i>Do</i>, did you say? I tell you, Dr. Wiseman, there is nothing under +heaven I would <i>not</i> do. But you—you only mock me by these words."</p> + +<p>"I do not, Squire Erliston. On one condition your debts shall every one +be paid, and Mount Sunset still remain yours."</p> + +<p>"And that condition! For Heaven's sake name it!" cried the squire, half +maddened by excitement.</p> + +<p>"Will you agree to it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, though you should even ask my life!"</p> + +<p>"<i>That</i> would be of little service to me," said the doctor, with a dry +smile. "No; I ask something much easier."</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake name it!" exclaimed the squire, wildly.</p> + +<p>"It is——"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"<i>The hand of your ward, Gipsy Gower.</i>"</p> + +<p>The squire stood like one transfixed with amazement, his eyes ready to +shoot from his head with surprise and consternation. And calmly before +him sat the doctor, his leathern countenance as expressionless as ever.</p> + +<p>"<i>What</i> did you say?" said the squire, at length, as though doubting the +evidence of his senses.</p> + +<p>"My words were plainly spoken. I will free you from all your debts on +condition that you bestow upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> me in marriage the hand of your young +ward, Gipsy Gower."</p> + +<p>"But—Lord bless me! my <i>dear</i> sir, what in the world can <i>you</i> want +with that chit of a child—that mad girl of the mountains—for a wife?" +exclaimed the squire, still aghast.</p> + +<p>"I <i>want</i> her, let that suffice," said the doctor, with a frown. "Do you +agree to this proposal?"</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>I'm</i> willing enough, but <i>she</i>—oh, Dr. Wiseman, the thing is +hopeless—she'd never consent in this world. She can be as obstinate as +a little mule when she likes. 'When a woman won't, she won't, and +there's the end on't,' as Solomon says."</p> + +<p>"You must make her."</p> + +<p>"Me! Why, she doesn't mind <i>me</i>——"</p> + +<p>"Squire Erliston," angrily broke in the doctor, "listen to me; either +you lose Mount Sunset and are publicly disgraced, or you will compel +this girl to marry me. Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"There! there! don't be hasty! I'll do what I can. It won't be my fault +if she don't. But who'd ever think of <i>you</i> wanting to marry little +Gipsy. Well, well, well, 'Wonders will never cease,' as Solomon says."</p> + +<p>"You can explain the matter to her—urge her by her gratitude, her love +for you, to consent," said the doctor; "try the sentimental +dodge—commands in this case will be worse than useless. Enlist the +women on your side; and above all things keep it a profound secret from +Archibald Rivers and Louis Oranmore. If none of your arguments move her, +I have still another in reserve that I know will clinch the business. +Give her no rest, day or night, until she consents; and if she complains +of cruelty, and all that, don't mind her. All girls are silly; and she, +being half-crazy, as she is, it seems to me the greatest favor you can +do her is to marry her to a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> of sense and experience like myself. +Keep in mind what you lose by her refusal, and what you gain by her +consent. If she will not marry me, I will add my claims to those of your +other creditors, and no earthly power will be able to save you from +total ruin," said the doctor, with grim, iron determination.</p> + +<p>"She shall consent! she shall—she <i>must</i>!" said the squire, startled by +his last threat; "she shall be your wife, that is settled. I think I can +manage her, though it <i>will</i> be a desperate struggle."</p> + +<p>"I shall force myself into her presence as little as possible," said the +doctor, calmly; "she has no particular love for me as yet, and it will +not help on my case. Mind, I shall expect you will use all your +energies, for our marriage must take place in a month at farthest," said +the doctor, as he arose, and, with a last expressive glance at his +victim, withdrew.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>FETTERS FOR THE EAGLET.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock32"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I'm o'er young, I'm o'er young—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'm o'er young to marry yet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm o'er young; 'twould be a sin<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To take me from my mammy yet."—<span class="smcap">Burns.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p><span class="floatleft">"</span></p> +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_g.png" alt="G" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +ipsy, my dear, come here and sit beside me. I have something very +important to say to you," said the squire, as, half an hour later, he +caught sight of Gipsy, running, singing, down stairs.</p></div> + +<p>"Why, Guardy, what's the matter? You look as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> solemn as a coffin," said +Gipsy, coming in and sitting down on a stool at his side.</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, marriage is a solemn subject."</p> + +<p>"Shockingly solemn, Guardy. And who are you thinking of marrying?"</p> + +<p>"I'm thinking of marrying you——"</p> + +<p>"Marrying <i>me</i>? Oh, Jerusalem! Well, if aunty consents, I'm willing. La! +won't it be fun? Just fancy Louis calling me grandmother! Ha, ha!</p> + +<p>"Hush, you chatterbox—don't interrupt me. As I was saying, I have been +thinking of marrying you to some discreet, sensible man. You are too +wild and giddy, and you must get married and settle down."</p> + +<p>"Just so, Guardy; I've been thinking of it myself."</p> + +<p>"Now, there's Doctor Wiseman, for instance. He'd be an excellent husband +for you. He's a pleasant gentleman, possessing many sound, sterling +qualities, learned, and not bad looking——"</p> + +<p>"Exactly, Guardy—useful as well as ornamental. For instance, he'd do to +put in a corn-field to scare away the crows."</p> + +<p>"Don't be impertinent, Miss Gower! Doctor Wiseman is a serious man, +self-balanced and grave——"</p> + +<p>"Grave! I guess so! He always reminds me of death and his scythe +whenever I see him."</p> + +<p>"Silence, and listen to me! Now what objection could you possibly make +to Doctor Wiseman as a husband?"</p> + +<p>"As a husband? Ha, ha, ha! Why, Guardy, you don't mean to say that that +yellow-skinned, spindle-shanked, dwarfed old ogre, with one leg in the +grave, and the other over the fence, is thinking of marrying—do you?"</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue, or you'll lose it, you little wretch!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> Doctor Wiseman +is no old ogre, but a dark-complexioned——"</p> + +<p>"Saffron, saffron, Guardy! Tell the truth, now, and shame your master. +Isn't it saffron?"</p> + +<p>"I'll brain you if you don't stop! A man can't get in a word edgeways +with you. Dr. Wiseman, minx, has done you the honor to propose for your +hand. I have consented, and——"</p> + +<p>But the squire broke off suddenly, in a towering rage—for Gipsy, after +an incredulous stare, burst into a shout of laughter that made the house +ring. Pressing her hands to her sides, she laughed until the tears ran +down her cheeks; and, at last, unable to stop, she rolled off her seat +on to the floor, and tumbled over and over in a perfect convulsion.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you little aggravation! <i>Will</i> you stop?" cried the squire, seizing +her by the shoulder, and shaking her until she was breathless.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Guardy, that's too good! Marry me? Oh, I declare, I'll split my +sides!" exclaimed Gipsy, going into another fit of laughter, as she +essayed in vain to rise.</p> + +<p>"Gipsy Gower! Cease your folly for a moment, and rise up and listen to +me," said the squire, so sternly that Gipsy wiped the tears from her +eyes, and pressing her hands to her sides, resumed her seat.</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, I do not wish you to consider me a boaster, but you know I have +done a great deal for you, brought you up, educated you, and intended +leaving you a fortune at my death——"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Guardy; couldn't you let me have part of it now?"</p> + +<p>"Silence, I tell you! Gipsy, this is what I <i>intended</i> doing; but, +child, I have become involved in debt. Mount Sunset will be taken from +me, and you, and Louis, and the rest of us will be beggars."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<p>Up flew Gipsy's eyebrows, open flew her eyes, and down dropped her chin, +in unfeigned amazement.</p> + +<p>"Yes," continued the squire, "you may stare, but it's true. And now, +Gipsy, since you told me you were not ungrateful—now is the time to +prove it, by saving me and all your friends from ruin."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> save you from ruin?" said Gipsy, staring with all her eyes, and +wondering if "Guardy" was wandering in his mind.</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>you</i>. As I told you, I am involved in debt, which it is utterly +impossible for me to pay. Now, Doctor Wiseman, who has fallen in love +with my fairy, has offered to pay my debts if you will marry him. Don't +laugh, <i>don't</i>, as I see you are going to do—this is no time for +laughter, Gipsy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but Guardy, that's too funny! The idea of me, a little girl of +seventeen, marrying a man of sixty—'specially such a man as Spider +Wiseman! Oh, Guardy, it's the best joke of the season!" cried Gipsy, +bursting into another immoderate fit of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Ungrateful, hard-hearted girl!" said the squire, with tears actually in +his stormy old eyes; "this is your return for all I have done for you! +You, the only living being who can save those who have been your best +friends from being turned out of the old homestead, instead of rejoicing +in being able to do it, you only laugh at him in scorn, you—" the +squire broke down fairly here.</p> + +<p>Never had the elf seen the usually violent old man so moved. A pang shot +through her heart for her levity; and the next moment her arms were +round his neck, and her white handkerchief wiping away the tears of +which he was ashamed.</p> + +<p>"Dear—<i>dear</i> Guardy, I'm so sorry! I never thought you felt so bad +about it. I'll do anything in the world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> to help you; I'm not +ungrateful. What do you want me to do, Guardy?"</p> + +<p>"To save me, by marrying Doctor Wiseman, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Guardy, oh, <i>Guardy</i>! You surely weren't serious in proposing +<i>that</i>?" exclaimed Gipsy, really astonished.</p> + +<p>"Serious? Alas! I was never so serious before in my life. You will do +this, Gipsy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Guardy! Marry <i>him</i>? Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Gipsy, with a +violent shudder.</p> + +<p>"Then you will let us all be turned out from the old roof-tree—out into +the world to die; for, Gipsy, if the old place is taken from me, I +should break my heart through grief!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Guardy, it won't be so bad as that! Surely <i>something</i> can be done? +How much do you owe?"</p> + +<p>"More than I dare mention. Child, nothing can be done to save us unless +you consent to this marriage."</p> + +<p>"Oh! that is too horrible even to think of. Can you not write to Louis? +I'm sure he could do something to save us."</p> + +<p>"No, he could do nothing; and he must never know it at all. Even +supposing he could, before a letter could reach him we would be publicly +disgraced—I should be branded as a rogue, and turned out of doors to +die. No, Gipsy, unless you consent, before the week is out, to become +the bride of Doctor Wiseman, all hope will be over. And though +afterward, by some hitherto unheard-of miracle, the property should be +restored to us, I should not live to see it; for if you persist in +refusing, Gipsy, I will die by my own hand, sooner than live to be +branded like a felon. And Lizzie and Mrs. Gower, who love you so well, +how do you think they could live, knowing that all had been lost through +your ingratitude! Louis,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> too, your foster-brother, how will he look on +the girl whose obstinacy will make him a beggar? Consent and all will be +well, the gratitude and love of an old man will bless you through life; +<i>refuse</i>, and my death will be on your soul, haunting you through all +your cheerless, unblessed life."</p> + +<p>With all the eloquence and passion of intense selfishness he spoke, +while each word burned into the heart and soul of his listener. She was +pacing up and down the floor, half-maddened by his words, while the word +<i>ingratitude</i> seemed dancing in living letters of fire before her.</p> + +<p>"Oh! what shall I do? What shall I do?" she cried, wringing her hands +wildly.</p> + +<p>"Let me advise you; I am older and have had experience, and a claim on +your obedience. Marry Doctor Wiseman; he is, I know, somewhat older than +you, but you <i>need</i> a man of age and wisdom. He is rich, and loves you; +and with him, conscious that you have done your duty, you will be +blessed by God, and be happy."</p> + +<p>"Happy!" she broke in, scornfully, "and with him! Happy!"</p> + +<p>"It is the first favor I ever asked of you, Gipsy, and I know you will +not refuse. No one must know of it, not one, save Lizzie and Mrs. Gower. +You must not breathe it to a living soul, save them."</p> + +<p>"Guardy, there is some guilt or mystery connected with this debt. What +is it?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you now, child; when you have obeyed me, I will. Come, +Doctor Wiseman will be here for your answer to-morrow. Shall I tell him +you have consented?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! no, no! no, no! Good heavens!" she cried, shudderingly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Gipsy! Gipsy! consent. I implore you, by all you hold dear on earth, +and sacred in heaven, to consent!" he said, with wild vehemence.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I cannot! I cannot! I <i>cannot</i>! Oh, Guardy, do not urge me to this +living death," she cried passionately.</p> + +<p>"Then you can see me die, child. This, then, is your gratitude!" he +said, bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Guardy, you will not die! I will work for you—yes, I will toil +night and day, and work my fingers to the bone, if need be. I can work +more than you would think."</p> + +<p>"It would be useless, worse than useless. I should not live to make you +work for me. Refuse, if you will, and go through life with the death of +a fellow-creature on your soul."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I wish I had never been born," said Gipsy, wringing her pale +fingers in anguish.</p> + +<p>"Consent! consent! Gipsy, for my sake! For the sake of the old man who +loves you!"</p> + +<p>She did not reply; she was pacing up and down the room like one +half-crazed, with wild, excited eyes, and flushed cheeks.</p> + +<p>"You do not speak. 'Silence gives consent,' as Solomon says," said the +squire, the ruling habit still "strong in death."</p> + +<p>"Let me think! You must give me time, Guardy! I will go to my room now, +and to-morrow you shall have my answer."</p> + +<p>"Go, then; I know it will be favorable. I dare not think otherwise. +To-morrow morning I will know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, to-morrow," said Gipsy, as she left the room and fled wildly up +stairs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> + +<p>"To-morrow," said the old sinner, looking after her. "And what will that +answer be? 'Who can tell what a day may bring forth?' as Solomon says."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE BIRD CAGED.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock38"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lay on him the curse of a withered heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The curse of a sleepless eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he wish and pray that his life would part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor yet find leave to die."—<span class="smcap">Scott.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_m.png" alt="M" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +orning came. The squire sat in the breakfast parlor, impatiently +waiting for the coming of Gipsy. He waited in vain. The moments flew on; +still she came not.</p></div> + +<p>Losing patience at last, he caught the bell-rope and rang a furious +peal. Five minutes after the black face and woolly head of Totty +appeared in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Totty, where's your young mistress?"</p> + +<p>"Here!" answered the voice of Gipsy herself, as she stood, bright and +smiling, behind Totty.</p> + +<p>Somehow, that smile alarmed the old man, and he began trembling for the +decision he had so anxiously been expecting.</p> + +<p>"Well, come in. Clear out, Totty. Now, Gipsy, your decision."</p> + +<p>"Now, Guardy, wait until after breakfast. How is any one to form an +opinion on an empty stomach, I'd like to know? There, don't get into a +fidget about it, as I see you're going to do, because it's no use."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But, Gipsy, tell me—will it be favorable?"</p> + +<p>"That depends upon circumstances. If I have a good appetite for my +breakfast I may probably be in good-humor enough to say yes to +everything you propose; if not, I tremble for you, Guardy. Visions of +blunt pen-knives and bulletless pistols flash in 'awful array' before my +mind's eye. Shall I ring the bell for Aunty Gower?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," growled the old man; "you are as contrary as Balaam's +ass."</p> + +<p>"Guardy, look out! Don't compare me to any of your ancestors."</p> + +<p>At this moment Mrs. Gower entered, followed by Lizzie, now an invalid, +wrapped up in numberless shawls, until she resembled a mummy.</p> + +<p>The squire had informed them both, the night before, how matters stood; +and they glanced anxiously at Gipsy, as they entered, to read, if +possible, her decision in her countenance. Nothing could they guess from +that little dark, sparkling face, as vivacious and merry as ever.</p> + +<p>When breakfast was over Mrs. Gower and Mrs. Oranmore quitted the room, +leaving Gipsy alone with the squire.</p> + +<p>"Now, Gipsy, now," he exclaimed, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Guardy," said Gipsy, earnestly, "all last night I lay awake, trying to +find out where my path of duty lay; and, Guardy, I have come to the +conclusion that I cannot add to your sin, if you have committed one, by +a still greater crime. I cannot perjure myself, before God's holy altar, +even to save you. Guardy, I always loathed and detested this man—this +Dr. Wiseman; and now I would sooner die by slow torture than be his +wife. Your threat of suicide I know you will not fulfill—'twas but idle +words. But even had you been serious, it would be all the same; for +sooner than marry that man I would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> plunge a dagger into my own heart +and let out my life's blood. I do not speak hastily, for I have done +that which I seldom do—thought before I spoke. If we really, as you +say, become poor, I am willing to leave my wild, free life, my horses, +hounds, and the 'merry greenwood,' to become a toiling kitchen brownie +for your sake. Do not interrupt me, Guardy; nothing you can say can +change my purpose. I am not ungrateful, but I cannot commit a crime in +the face of high heaven, even for the sake of those I love best. Tell my +decision to Dr. Wiseman. And now, Guardy, this subject must be forever +dropped between us, for you have heard my ultimatum."</p> + +<p>And without waiting for the words that were ready to burst forth, she +arose, bent her graceful little head, and walked out of the room.</p> + +<p>As she went up-stairs, on her way to her own room, she passed Lizzie's +chamber. Mrs. Oranmore caught sight of her through the half-opened door, +and called her.</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, my love, come in here."</p> + +<p>Gipsy went in. It was a pleasant, cheerful room, with bright pictures on +the walls, and rich crimson damask hangings in the window. Lizzie +Oranmore, as she lies on her lounge, enveloped in a large, soft shawl, +is not much like the Lizzie, the bright little coquette, we once knew. A +pale, faded creature she is now, with sallow cheeks, and thin, pinched +face.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Oranmore, anxiously, "papa has mentioned this +shocking affair to me. What has been your answer to Dr. Wiseman's +proposal?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, aunty, what could it be but <i>no</i>? You didn't suppose I'd marry that +ugly old daddy-long-legs, did you? Why, aunty, when I get married—which +I never will if I can help it—for I would be ever free—it must be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> to +a lord, duke, or a Sir Harry, or something above the common. Just fancy +such a little bit of a thing like me being tied for life to a detestable +old Bluebeard like Spider. Not I, indeed!" said the elf, as she danced +around the room and gayly sang:</p> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"An old man, an old man, will never do for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For May and December can never agree."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>"But Gipsy, my dear, do you not know that we are to be turned out, if +you refuse?" said Lizzie, in blank dismay.</p> + +<p>"Well, let us be turned out, then. I will be turned out, but I won't +marry that old death's-head. I'm young and smart, and able to earn my +own living, thank goodness!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, ungrateful girl, will you see me die? For, Gipsy, if I am deprived +now, in my illness, of the comforts to which I have always been +accustomed, I shall die."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you won't, aunty. I don't think that things are as bad as +Guardy makes them appear; and, even if they were, Dr. Wiseman, old +wretch as he is, would let you remain."</p> + +<p>"No, he would not, child; you don't know the revengeful disposition of +that man. Oh, Gipsy, by the memory of all we have done for you, I +beseech you to consent!"</p> + +<p>"Aunty, aunty, I cannot; it is too dreadful even to think about. Oh, +aunty, I cannot tell you how I loathe, abhor, and detest that hideous +old sinner!"</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, that is wrong—that is sinful. Dr. Wiseman is a highly +respectable gentleman—rather old for you, it is true—but of what +difference is a few years? He is rich, and loves you well enough to +gratify your every wish. What more would you have?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Happiness</i>, aunty. I should be utterly miserable with him."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, child, you only think so. It is not as if you were older, and +loved somebody else. People often marry those they don't care about, and +grow quite fond of them after a time. Now, I shouldn't be surprised if +you grew quite fond of Dr. Wiseman by and by."</p> + +<p>Gipsy laughed her own merry laugh again as she heard Lizzie's words.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy, you thoughtless creature! is this your answer to my +petition?" said Lizzie, putting her handkerchief to her eyes. "Leave me, +then. I will not long survive your ingratitude; but, mark me, your name +will become a by-word, far and near, and descend to posterity branded +with the disgrace of your ungrateful conduct. Go—leave me! Why should +you stay to witness the misery you have caused?"</p> + +<p>Poor Gipsy! how these reproaches stung her. She started to her feet, and +began pacing the floor rapidly, crying wildly:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Heaven help me! I know not what to do! I wish I were dead, sooner +than be branded thus as an ingrate!"</p> + +<p>Lizzie's sobs alone broke the stillness of the room. At last, unable to +endure them longer, she rushed out and sought refuge in her own chamber. +As she entered she saw Mrs. Gower seated by the window—a look of +trouble and sadness on her usually happy, good-natured face.</p> + +<p>"Oh! aunty, what <i>shall</i> I do? Oh! aunty, I am going crazy, I think!" +cried Gipsy, distressedly, half maddened by the sight of Lizzie's tears.</p> + +<p>"My dear, it is very plain what you must do. You must marry Dr. +Wiseman," said Mrs. Gower, gravely.</p> + +<p>"Oh! aunty, have you turned against me, too? Then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> I have no friend in +the wide world! Oh! I wish—I <i>wish</i> I had never been born!"</p> + +<p>"My love, don't talk in that way; it is not only very foolish, but very +sinful. Dr. Wiseman is certainly not the man I would wish to see you +married to; but, you perceive, there is no alternative. Gipsy, I am +getting old, so is the squire; Mrs. Oranmore is ill, and I do not think +she will live long. Will you, therefore, allow the old man and +woman—who love you above all human beings—and a poor, weak invalid, to +be turned upon the charity of the cold world to die? Gipsy, you know if +we could save you from misery, we would coin our very hearts' blood to +do it."</p> + +<p>"And, oh, aunt! could there be greater misery for me than that to which +you are urging me?"</p> + +<p>"You talk like the thoughtless girl you are, Gipsy. How often, for +wealth or social position merely, or to raise their friends from want, +do young girls marry old men! Yet, <i>you</i> refuse to save us from worse +than want, from disgrace and death—yes, <i>death</i>! I know what I am +saying, Gipsy—you obstinately refuse. Gipsy, my child, for my sake do +not become such a monster of ingratitude, but consent."</p> + +<p>"Oh, aunty! leave me. I feel as if I were going mad! Every one in the +world seems to have turned against me—even <i>you</i>! Oh, aunty, dear, good +aunty! don't talk to me any more; my very brain seems on fire."</p> + +<p>"Yes; your cheeks are burning, and your eyes are like fire—you are ill +and feverish, my poor little fairy. Lie down, and let me bathe your +head."</p> + +<p>"No, no, aunty, don't mind. Oh! what matter is it whether I am ill or +not? If it wasn't for you, and Guardy, and all the rest, I feel as if I +should like to lie down and die!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My own little darling, you must not talk of dying; every one has +trouble in this world, and you cannot expect to escape!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I know, I know! Hitherto, life has been to me a fairy dream; and +now this terrible awakening to reality! Life seemed to me one long, +golden summer day; and now—and now——"</p> + +<p>"You are excited, love; lie down, and try to sleep—you talk too much."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; I always did talk too much; but I do not think I will ever +talk much again. Oh, aunty! I have heard of the heart-ache, but I never +knew what it was before!"</p> + +<p>"My love, you must not feel this so deeply. How wild your eyes are! and +your hands are burning hot! Do lie down, and try to rest."</p> + +<p>"Rest! rest! Shall I ever find rest again?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you will, my dear. Now what shall I tell the squire is your +decision about this? I promised him to talk to you about it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, aunty, don't—<i>don't</i>! Leave me alone, and let me think—I cannot +talk to you now!"</p> + +<p>"Shall I bring you up ice for your head, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; you have already brought ice for my heart, aunty—that is +enough."</p> + +<p>"You talk wildly, love; I am afraid your mind is disordered."</p> + +<p>"Don't mind my talk, dear aunty, I always was a crazy, elfish +changeling, without a heart, you know. Nobody minds what I say. Only +leave me now; I will be better by and by."</p> + +<p>With a sigh Mrs. Gower left the room. It was strange that, loving her +poor little fay as she did, she should urge her to this wretched +marriage; but the squire had talked and persuaded her until he brought +her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> to see the matter with his eyes. And poor Gipsy was left alone to +pace up and down the room like one deranged, wringing her hands, while +her cheeks and eyes burned with the fire of fever.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if Archie would only come!" was the wild cry of her aching heart, +as she walked restlessly to and fro.</p> + +<p>But Archie was away; she knew not even his present address, and she was +left to battle against the dark decree of fate alone.</p> + +<p>"I will seek Dr. Wiseman; I will beg, I will implore him to spare me, +and those who would have me make this fatal sacrifice. Surely his heart +is not made of stone; he cannot resist my prayers!"</p> + +<p>So, waiting in her room until she saw him ride up to the Hall, she +descended the stairs and entered the parlor, where he and the squire sat +in close conversation together, and formally desired the honor of a +private interview.</p> + +<p>He arose, and, bowing, followed her into the drawing-room. Motioning him +to a seat she stood before him, her little form drawn up to its full +height, her defiant, dark eyes fixed on his repulsive face with +undisguised loathing.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Wiseman," she began, "I have heard of this proposal which you have +honored me by making. Believe me, I fully appreciate the honor you have +done me"—and her beautiful lip curled scornfully—"even while I must +decline it. A silly little girl like me is unworthy to be raised to the +dignity of the wife of so distinguished a gentleman as Dr. Wiseman!"</p> + +<p>The doctor acknowledged the compliment by a grave bow, while Gipsy +continued:</p> + +<p>"My guardian has informed me that, unless I consent to this union, he +will lose Mount Sunset, be reduced to poverty, and, consequently, die, +he says. You, it seems,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> will prevent this, if I marry you. Now, Dr. +Wiseman, knowing this marriage is not agreeable to me, I feel that you +will withdraw your claim to my hand, and still prevent Guardy from being +reduced to poverty!"</p> + +<p>"Miss Gower, I regret to say I cannot do so. Unless you become my wife, +I shall be obliged to let the law take its course; and all that Squire +Erliston has told you will prove true."</p> + +<p>"Dr. Wiseman, you will not be so cruel? I beg—I implore you to prevent +this catastrophe!"</p> + +<p>"I will, with pleasure, Miss Gower, if you will be my wife."</p> + +<p>"That I can never be, Dr. Wiseman! I would not, to save my head from the +block, consent to such a thing! What in the name of heaven can make a +man of <i>your</i> age wish to marry a silly little thing like me?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Love</i>, my pretty mountain sprite," replied the doctor, with a grim +smile—"<i>love</i>! Years do not freeze the blood, nor still the heart of +man!"</p> + +<p>"Then, sir, if you love me, renounce all claim upon my hand, and save my +guardian from impending ruin!"</p> + +<p>"That I can never do!"</p> + +<p>"Be it so, then, Dr. Wiseman. To you I will plead no more. Let us be +turned out; I would die a death of lingering starvation sooner than wed +with a cold-blooded monster like you!" exclaimed Gipsy, her old fiery +spirit flashing from her eyes and radiating her face.</p> + +<p>"And will you see those you love die, too?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, even so; sooner than realize the living tomb of a marriage with +you!"</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! ha! All very fine and affectionate, my dear; yet, marry me you +<i>shall</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Marry you? Not if I die for it!" flashed Gipsy, with blazing eyes.</p> + +<p>"That we shall see presently. I think I have an argu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>ment in reserve +that will bend your high spirit. You love Archie Rivers?"</p> + +<p>"That is no business of yours, Dr. Wiseman!"</p> + +<p>"No; no farther than that I am glad of it. Now, Gipsy Gower, I swear by +all the heavens contain, unless you marry me, <i>he shall die on the +scaffold</i>!"</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i>" gasped Gipsy, appalled by his low, fearful tone, even more +than by his words.</p> + +<p>"I say there is but one alternative; marry me, or see him die on the +scaffold!"</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! that's excellent. Are you going to hang him, Dr. Wiseman?" +mocked Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Laugh, girl; but beware! It is in my power to bring his head to the +halter!"</p> + +<p>"Where, if everybody had their dues, yours would have been long ago."</p> + +<p>"Take care, madam; don't carry your taunts too far—even my forbearance +has its limits!"</p> + +<p>"That's more than can be said of your manners!"</p> + +<p>The doctor's sallow visage blanched with anger; but, subduing his wrath, +he said:</p> + +<p>"I can accuse him of the murder of young Henry Danvers, who was so +mysteriously killed. There is circumstantial evidence against him strong +enough to convict him in any court of justice in the world!"</p> + +<p>"Archie kill Danvers? Why, you horrid old monster, you! Ain't you afraid +of the fate of Ananias and his better half, who never told half such a +lie in their lives?"</p> + +<p>"Lie or not, girl, it can be proved that he killed him. Listen, now," +said the doctor, while his repulsive face lighted up with a look of +fiendish exultation. "Archibald Rivers loved <i>you</i>—that was plain to +every one. This Danvers came along and fell in love with you, too—that, +likewise, can be duly proved. Your preference for the young sailor was +observable from the first. Riv<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>ers was jealous, and I know many who can +prove he often uttered threats of future vengeance against the +midshipman. On the night of the <i>murder</i>, Archie was observed riding +from here, in a violent rage. Half an hour afterward the sailor went for +a ride over the hills. I can <i>swear</i> that Archie Rivers followed him. I +know he was not at home until late. Most probably, therefore, he +followed Danvers, and murdered him treacherously. Jealousy will make a +man do almost anything. In a court of justice, many more things than +this can be proved; and if he dies on the scaffold, his blood will be +upon your head."</p> + +<p>Gipsy stood listening to his terrible words with blanched face, livid +lips, and horror-stricken eyes. For a moment he thought she would faint. +The very power of life seemed stricken from her heart; but, by a +powerful effort, she aroused herself from the deadly faintness creeping +over her, and exclaimed, in a voice low with unspeakable horror:</p> + +<p>"Fiend—demon incarnate! would you perjure your own soul! Would you +become the murderer of your own nephew?"</p> + +<p>"Murderer, forsooth! Is that what you call legal justice?"</p> + +<p>"It would not be legal justice! Doctor Wiseman, I tell you, if you say +Archie Rivers killed Danvers, you lie! Yes, meanest of vile wretches, I +tell you, you lie!"</p> + +<p>He leaped to his feet, glaring with rage, as though he would spring upon +her, and rend her limb from limb. Before him she stood, her little form +drawn up to its full height, defiant and daring—her dark face glaring +with scorn and hatred. For a moment they stood thus—he quivering with +impotent rage—she, proud, defying,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> and fearless. Then, sinking into +his seat, he said, with stern calmness:</p> + +<p>"No—I will restrain myself; but, daring girl, listen to me. As sure as +yonder heaven is above us, if you refuse, so surely shall Squire +Erliston and all belonging to him be turned from their home—to die, if +they will; and Archibald Rivers shall perish by the hand of the hangman, +scorned and hated by all, and knowing that you, for whom he would have +given his life, have brought him to the scaffold. Gipsy Gower, his blood +will cry for vengeance from the earth against you!"</p> + +<p>He ceased. There was a wild, thrilling, intense solemnity in his tone, +that made the blood curdle. One look at his fiendish face would have +made you think Satan himself was before you.</p> + +<p>And Gipsy! She had dropped, as if suddenly stricken by an unseen hand, +to the floor; her face changed to the ghastly hue of death, the light +dying out in her eyes: her very life seemed passing away from the blue, +quivering lips, from which no sound came; a thousand ages of suffering +seemed concentrated in that one single moment of intense anguish.</p> + +<p>But no spark of pity entered the heart that exulted in her agony. No; a +demoniacal joy flashed from his snake-like eyes as he beheld that free, +wild, untamed spirit broken at last, and lying in anguish at his feet.</p> + +<p>"This struggle is the last. Now she will yield," was his thought, as he +watched her.</p> + +<p>"Gipsy!" he called.</p> + +<p>She writhed at the sound of his voice.</p> + +<p>"Gipsy!" he called again.</p> + +<p>This time she looked up, lifting a face so like that of death that he +started back involuntarily.</p> + +<p>"What?" she asked, in a low, hollow voice of despair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you consent?"</p> + +<p>She arose, and walked over until she stood before him. Appalled by her +look, he arose in alarm and drew back.</p> + +<p>"Consent!" she repeated, fixing her wild eyes on his frightened face; +"yes, I consent to the living death of a marriage with you. And, Dr. +Wiseman, may my curse and the curse of Heaven cling to you like a +garment of fire, now and forevermore, burning your miserable soul like a +flame in this life, and consigning you to everlasting perdition in the +next! May every torture and suffering that man can know follow the +wronged orphan's curse! In this life I will be your deadliest enemy, and +in the next I will bear witness against you at the throne of God! To +your very grave, and beyond, my undying hatred and revenge for the wrong +you have done me shall be yours; and now I wish you joy of your bride!"</p> + +<p>She passed from the room like a spirit; and Dr. Wiseman, terrified and +appalled, sank into a chair, with the vision of that death-like face, +with its blazing eyes and wild, maniac words and wilder stare, haunting +him until he shuddered with superstitious terror.</p> + +<p>"What a wife I will have!" he muttered; "a perfect little fiend. Mount +Sunset will be dearly enough purchased with that young tempest for its +mistress. The fiery spirit of the old Oranmores runs in her +veins—that's certain. And now, as there is nothing like striking the +iron while it's hot, I'll go and report my success to that old dotard, +the squire, and have the wedding-day fixed as soon as possible."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>MAY AND DECEMBER.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She looked to the river—looked to the hill—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thought on the spirit's prophecy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then broke the silence stern and still:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Not you, but Fate, has vanquished me.'"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> +<p style="margin-left: 60%;"><span class="smcap">Lay of the Last Minstrel.</span></p> + +<p><span class="floatleft">"</span></p> +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_c.png" alt="C" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +eleste, Celeste! do not leave me. Oh! all the world has left me, and +will you go, too? This heart—this restless, beating heart—will it +never stop aching? Oh, Celeste! once I thought I had no heart; but by +this dull, aching pain where it should be, I know I must have had one +some time. Stay with me, Celeste. You are the only one in the world left +for me to love now."</p></div> + +<p>Gipsy—small, fair and fragile, with her little wan face and unnaturally +lustrous eyes—lay moaning restlessly on her low couch, like some +tempest-tossed soul quivering between life and death. Like an angel of +light, by her side knelt Celeste, with her fair, pitying face and her +soft blue eyes, from which the tears fell on the small brown fingers +that tightly clasped hers.</p> + +<p>"Dear Gipsy, I will not leave you; but you know you must get up and +dress soon."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; but not yet. It is so nice to lie here, and have you beside +me. I am so tired, Celeste—I have never rested since I made that +promise. It seems as if ever since I had been walking and walking on +through the dark, unable to stop, with such an aching here."</p> + +<p>And she pressed her hand to the poor quivering heart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> that was +fluttering to escape from the heavy chain fate was drawing tighter and +tighter around it.</p> + +<p>"What can I do for you, Gipsy?" said Celeste, stooping and kissing her +pale lips, while two pitying drops fell from her eyes on the poor little +face below her.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry for me, Celeste. I never wept for myself yet. Sing for me, +dear friend, the 'Evening Hymn' we used to sing at the Sisters' school, +long ago."</p> + +<p>Forcing back her tears, Celeste sang, in a voice low and sweet as liquid +music:</p> + +<div class="poemblock32"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ave sanctissima!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We lift our souls to thee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ora pro nobis,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bright star of the sea!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watch us while shadows lie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far o'er the waters spread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear the heart's lonely sigh—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine, too, hath bled!"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Gipsy listened, with her eyes closed, an expression of peace and rest +falling on her dark, restless face, until Celeste ceased.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Celeste, I always feel so much better and happier when you are with +me—not half so much of a heartless imp as at other times," said Gipsy, +opening her eyes. "I wish I could go and live with you and Miss Hagar at +Valley Cottage, or enter a convent, or anywhere, to be at peace. While +you sang I almost fancied myself back again at school, listening to +those dear, kind sisters singing that beautiful 'Evening Hymn.'"</p> + +<p>She paused, and murmured, dreamily:</p> + +<div class="poemblock32"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Watch us while shadows lie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far o'er the waters spread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear the heart's lonely sigh—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine, too, hath bled!"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>"Dear Gipsy, do not be so sad. Our Heavenly Father, perhaps, has but +sent you this trial to purify your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> heart and make it His own. In the +time of youth and happiness we are apt ungratefully to forget the Author +of all good gifts, and yield the heart that should be His to idols of +clay. But in the days of sorrow and suffering we stretch out our arms to +Him; and He, forgetting the past, takes us to his bosom. And, dearest +Gipsy, shall we shrink from treading through trials and sufferings in +the steps of the sinless Son of God, to that home of rest and peace that +He died to gain for us?"</p> + +<p>Her beautiful face was transfigured, her eyes radiant, her lips glowing +with the fervor of the deep devotion with which she spoke.</p> + +<p>"I cannot feel as you do, Celeste," said Gipsy, turning restlessly. "I +feel like one without a light, groping my way in the dark—like one who +is blind, hastening to my own doom. I cannot look up; I can see into the +dark grave, but no farther."</p> + +<p>"Light will come yet, dear friend. Every cloud has its silver lining."</p> + +<p>"Never for me. But, hark! What is that?"</p> + +<p>Celeste arose, and went to the window.</p> + +<p>"It is the carriages bringing more people. The parlors below are full. +You must rise, and dress for your bridal, Gipsy."</p> + +<p>"Would to heaven it were for my burial! I am <i>so</i> tired, Celeste. <i>Must</i> +I get up?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear Gipsy; they are waiting for you. I will dress you myself," +said Celeste, as Gipsy, pale, wan, and spirituelle, arose from her +couch, her little, slight figure smaller and slighter than ever.</p> + +<p>Rapidly moved the nimble fingers of Celeste. The dancing dark locks fell +in short, shining curls around the superb little head, making the pale +face of the bride look paler still by contrast. Then Celeste went into +her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> wardrobe and brought forth the jewels, the white vail, the orange +blossoms, and the rich robes of white brocade, frosted with seed pearls, +and laid them on the bed.</p> + +<p>"What is that white dress for?" demanded Gipsy, abruptly, looking up +from a reverie into which she had fallen.</p> + +<p>"For you to wear, of course," replied Celeste, astonished at the +question.</p> + +<p>"A white dress for me! Ha! ha! ha!" she said, with a wild laugh. "True, +I forgot—when the ancients were about to sacrifice a victim, they robed +her in white and crowned her with flowers. But I will differ from all +other victims, and wear a more suitable color. <i>This</i> shall be my +wedding-dress," said Gipsy, leaving the room, and returning with a dress +of <i>black</i> lace.</p> + +<p>Celeste shrank back from its ominous hue with something like a shudder.</p> + +<p>"Oh, not in black! Oh, Gipsy! any other color but black for your +wedding. Think how you will shock every one," said Celeste, imploringly.</p> + +<p>"Shock them! Why, Celeste, I've shocked them so continually ever since I +was a year old, that when I cease to shock them they won't know Gipsy +Gower. And that reminds me that after to-day I will be 'Mad Gipsy Gower' +no longer, but Mrs. Doctor Nicholas Wiseman. Ha! ha! ha! Wiseman! how +appropriate the name will be! Oh! <i>won't</i> I lead him a life—<i>won't</i> I +make him wish he had never been born—<i>won't</i> I teach him what it is to +drive a girl to desperation? He thinks because I am a little thing he +can hold me up with one hand—and, by the way, Celeste, his hands always +remind me of a lobster's claw stuck into a pump-handle—that he can do +what he pleases with me. We'll see! Hook my dress, Celeste. It's a pity +to keep my Adonis waiting, and dis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>appoint all these good people who +have come to see the fun."</p> + +<p>"Dear Gipsy, do not look and talk so wildly. And pray, take off that +black dress, and wear any other color you wish. People <i>will</i> talk so, +you know."</p> + +<p>"Let 'em talk then, my dear. They'll only say it's one of Gipsy's whims. +Besides, it will shock Spider, which is just what I want. He'll get a +few more shocks before I have done with him, I rather think. Hook my +dress, Celeste."</p> + +<p>With a sigh at the elf's perversity, Celeste obeyed; and with a sad +face, watched the eccentric little bride shake out the folds of her +black robe, and fasten a dark crimson belt around her waist.</p> + +<p>"Now, if I had a few poppies or marigolds to fasten in my hair, I'd look +bewitching; as I haven't, these must do." And with a high, ringing +laugh, she twined a dark, purplish passion-flower amid her shining +curls. "Now for my rouge. I must look blooming, you know—happy brides +always should. Then it will save me the trouble of blushing, which is +something I never was guilty of in my life. No, never mind those pearls, +Celeste; I fear Dr. Wiseman might find them brighter than my eye, which +would not do by 'no manner of means.' There! I'm ready. Who ever saw so +bewildering a bride?"</p> + +<p>She turned from the mirror, and stood before Celeste, her eyes shining +like stars, streaming with an unnaturally blazing light, the pallor of +her face hidden by the rouge, the dark passion-flower drooping amid her +curls, fit emblem of herself. There was an airy, floating lightness +about her, as if she scarcely felt the ground she walked on—a fire and +wildness in her large, dark eyes that made Celeste's heart ache for her. +Very beautiful she looked, with her dark, oriental face, shaded by its +sable locks, the rich, dark dress falling with classic ele<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>gance from +her round, little waist. She looked, as she stood, bright, mocking, +defiant, scornful—more like some fairy changeling—some fay of the +moonlight—than a living creature, with a woman's heart. And yet, under +that daring, bright exterior, a wild, anguished heart lay crushed and +quivering, shedding tears of blood, that leaped to the eyes to be +changed to sparks of fire.</p> + +<p>"Let us go down," said Celeste, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, let us go. Do you know, Celeste, I read once of a man whom the +Indians were going to burn to death at the stake, and who began cursing +them when they led him there for making him wait so long. Now I feel +just like that man; since I <i>am</i> to be doomed to the stake—why, the +sooner the torture is over the better."</p> + +<p>She looked so beautiful, so bewitching, yet so mocking and unreal, so +like a spirit of air, as she spoke, that, almost expecting to see her +vanish from her sight, Celeste caught her in her arms, and gazed upon +her with pitying, yearning, love-lit eyes, from which the tears were +fast falling.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry for me, Celeste; you make me feel more like an imp than ever. +I really think I must be a family relation of the goblin page we read +about in the 'Lay of the Last Minstrel,' for I feel like doing as he +did, throwing up my arms, and crying, 'Lost!' I'm sure that goblin page +would have made his fortune in a circus, since his ordinary mode of +walking consisted of leaps of fifty feet high or so. Crying still, +Celeste! Why, I thought I'd make you laugh. Now, Celeste, if you don't +dry your eyes, I'll go right up to where Aunty Gower keeps prussic acid +for the rats, and commit suicide right off the reel. I've felt like +doing it all the time lately, but never so much so as when I see you +crying for me. Why, Celeste, I never was worth one tear from those blue +eyes, body and bones. What's the use of anybody's grieving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> for a +little, mad, hare-brained thing like me? <i>I'll</i> do well enough; I'll be +perfectly happy—see if I don't! It will be such glorious fun, you know, +driving Spider mad! And, oh, <i>won't</i> I dose him! Tra! la, la, la, la, +la!" and Gipsy waltzed airily around the room.</p> + +<p>At this moment there came a knock at the door. Celeste opened it, and +Mrs. Gower, in the well-preserved silk and lace cap she had worn years +before to Lizzie Oranmore's wedding, stood in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Celeste! why don't you hurry? Where is Gipsy? Oh, good gracious, +child! not dressed yet? What on earth have you been doing? The people +have been waiting these two hours, almost, in the parlors! Do hurry, for +mercy sake, and dress!"</p> + +<p>"Why, aunty, I <i>am</i> dressed. Don't you see I am all ready to become Mrs. +Wiseman?"</p> + +<p>"But my <i>dear</i> child, that black dress——"</p> + +<p>"This black dress will do very well—suits my complexion best, which is +rather of the mulatto order than otherwise; and it's a pity if a blessed +bride can't wear what she likes without such a fuss being made about it. +Now, aunty, don't begin to lecture—it'll only be a waste of powder and +a loss of time; and I'm impatient to arrive at the place of execution."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gower sank horrified into a chair, and gazed with a look of despair +into the mocking, defiant eyes of the elfin bride.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy! what ever will the people say? In a <i>black dress</i>! Good +heavens! Why, you'll look more like the chief mourner at a funeral than +a bride! And what will Dr. Wiseman say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't, aunty! I hope he'll get into a passion, and blow me and +everybody else up when he sees it!" cried Gipsy, clapping her hands with +delight at the idea.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear! oh, dear! did any one ever know such a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> strange girl? Just to +think of throwing aside that beautiful dress that your guardian paid a +small fortune for, for that common black lace thing, the worst dress you +have!"</p> + +<p>"Aunty—see here!—you may have this 'beautiful dress' when you get +married. You're young, and good-looking, and substantial, too, and I +shouldn't wonder if you had a proposal one of these days. With a little +letting down in the skirt, and a little letting out in the waist——"</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, hush! How can you go on with such nonsense at such a time? Miss +Pearl, can you not induce her to take off that horrid black dress?"</p> + +<p>"I think you had better let her wear it, madam. Miss Gower will not be +persuaded."</p> + +<p>"Well, since it must be so, then come. Luckily, everybody knows what an +odd, flighty thing Gipsy is, and therefore will not be so much +surprised."</p> + +<p>"I should think the world would not be surprised at anything I would do +since I have consented to marry that hideous orang-outang, that mockery +of man, that death's-head, that 'thing of legs and arms,' that——"</p> + +<p>"Hush! hush! you little termagant! What a way to speak of the man you +are going to promise to 'love, honor, and obey,'" said the profoundly +shocked Mrs. Gower.</p> + +<p>"<i>Love, honor, and obey!</i> Ha, ha, ha! Oh, won't I though, with a +vengeance! Won't I be a pattern wife! You'll see!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, child?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, aunty," said Gipsy, with a strange smile, "merely making a +meditation. Here we are at the stake at last, and there I perceive +Reverend Mr. Goodenough ready to act the part of executioner; and there, +too, is Dr. Wiseman, the victim—who, as he will by and by find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> out, is +going to prove himself most decidedly a silly man to-day. Now, Gipsy +Gower, you are going to create a sensation, my dear, though you are +pretty well accustomed to that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>They had reached the hall by this time, where Dr. Wiseman, Squire +Erliston, and a number of others stood. All stared aghast at the sable +robes of Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Oh? how is it? Why, what is the meaning of this?" demanded the squire, +in a rage.</p> + +<p>"Meaning of what, Guardy?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, miss, by wearing that black frock?"</p> + +<p>"And what business is it of yours, sir?"</p> + +<p>"You impudent minx! Go right up stairs and take it off."</p> + +<p>"I won't do anything of the kind! There now! Anybody that doesn't like +me in this can let me alone," retorted Gipsy.</p> + +<p>A fierce imprecation was on the lips of the squire, but Dr. Wiseman laid +his hand on his arm, and said, in his oiliest tones:</p> + +<p>"Never mind her, my dear sir; let her consult her own taste. I am as +willing my bride should wear black as anything else; she looks +bewitching in anything. Come, fairest lady."</p> + +<p>He attempted to draw her arm within his, but she sprang back, and +transfixing him with a flashing glance, she hissed:</p> + +<p>"No; withered be my arm if it ever rests in yours! Stand aside, Dr. +Wiseman; there is pollution in the very touch of your hand."</p> + +<p>"You capricious little fairy, why do you hate me so?"</p> + +<p>"Hate! Don't flatter yourself I hate you, Dr. Wise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>man—I despise you +too much for that," she replied, her beautiful lip curling scornfully.</p> + +<p>"Exasperating little dare-devil that you are!" he exclaimed, growing +white with impotent rage, "take care that I do not make you repent +this."</p> + +<p>"You hideous old fright! do you dare to threaten now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and dare to perform, too, if you do not beware. Keep a guard on +your tongue, my lady, or you know who will suffer for it."</p> + +<p>The fierce retort that hovered on the lip of Gipsy was checked by their +entrance into the drawing-room. Such a crowd as was there, drawn +together for miles around by the news of this singular marriage. All +shrank back and looked at one another, as their eyes fell on the ominous +garments of the bride, as she walked in, proudly erect, beside her grim +bridegroom.</p> + +<p>"Beauty and the Beast!" "Vulcan and Venus!" "May and December!" were the +whispers that went round the room as they appeared.</p> + +<p>The Rev. Mr. Goodenough approached, and the bridal party stood before +him—the doctor glancing uneasily at his little bride, who stood with +her flashing eyes riveted to the floor, her lips firmly compressed, +proud, erect and haughty.</p> + +<p>The marriage ceremony commenced, and Mr. Goodenough, turning to the +doctor, put the usual question:</p> + +<p>"Nicholas Wiseman, wilt thou have Aurora Gower, here present, to be thy +wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer, for +poorer, in sickness and health, until death doth you part?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," was the reply, loud, clear, and distinct.</p> + +<p>Turning to the bride the clergyman demanded;</p> + +<p>"Aurora Gower, wilt thou have Nicholas Wiseman,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> here present, to be thy +lawful husband, to have, and to hold?" etc.</p> + +<p>A loud, fierce, passionate "<i>No!</i>" burst from the lips of the bride. Dr. +Wiseman saw her intention, and was immediately seized with a violent fit +of coughing, in which her reply was drowned.</p> + +<p>The mockery of a marriage was over, and Nicholas Wiseman and Aurora +Gower were solemnly pronounced "man and wife."</p> + +<p>A mocking smile curled the lips of the bride at the words, and she +turned to receive the congratulations of her many friends, to bear all +the hand-shaking, and hear herself addressed as "Mrs. Wiseman."</p> + +<p>"Now, beautiful fairy, you are my own at last. You see fate had decreed +it," said the doctor, with a grim smile.</p> + +<p>"And bitterly shall you repent that decree. Do you know what I was doing +when I stood up before the clergyman with you?"</p> + +<p>"No, sweet wife."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, listen. I was vowing and consecrating my whole life to one +purpose—one aim; and that is <i>deadly vengeance against you</i> for what +you have done. Night and day, sleeping or waking, it shall always occupy +my thoughts, and I will live now only for revenge. Ha! I see I can make +your saffron visage blanch already, Dr. Wiseman. Oh! you'll find what a +happy thing it is to be married. Since I must go down, I shall drag down +with me all who have had part or share in this, my misery. You, viper, +ghoul that you are, have turned my very nature into that of a fiend. Dr. +Wiseman, if I thought, by any monstrous possibility, you could ever go +to heaven, I would take a dagger and send my own soul to perdition, +sooner than go there with you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was something in her words, her tone, her face, perfectly +appalling. Her countenance was deadly white, save where the rouge +colored it, and her eyes. Oh! never were such wild, burning, gleaming +eyes seen in any face before. He cowered from her like the soul-struck +coward that he was; and, as with one glance of deadly concentrated hate +she glided from his side and mingled with the crowd, he wiped the cold +perspiration off his brow, and realized how true were the words oft +quoted:</p> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hell has no fury like a woman scorned,"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>and began to fear that, after all, Mount Sunset was purchased at a dear +price.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<h3>ARCHIE'S LOST LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Be it so! we part forever—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let the past as nothing be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I only loved thee, never<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hadst thou been thus dear to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"More than woman thou wast to me—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not as man I looked on thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, like woman, then, undo me?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why heap man's worst curse on me?"—<span class="smcap">Byron.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_i.png" alt="I" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +t was the evening of Gipsy's wedding-day—a wet, chilly, disagreeable +evening, giving promise of a stormy, tempestuous night—fit weather for +such a bridal!</p></div> + +<p>Lights were already gleaming in the cottages of the villagers, and the +large parlor of the "Inn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> of St. Mark's" was crowded—every one +discussing the surprising wedding up at the Hall, and wondering what +Miss Gipsy would do next—when, as James says, "a solitary horseman +might have been seen," riding at a break-neck pace toward Deep Dale. The +house looked dreary, dark, and dismal—unlighted save by the glare from +one window. Unheeding this, the "solitary horseman" alighted, and giving +his horse to the care of the servant, ran up the stairs and +unceremoniously burst into the parlor, where Minnette Wiseman sat +reading alone. All her father's entreaties and commands to be present at +his wedding were unheeded. She had heard the news of his approaching +marriage with the utmost coolness—a stare of surprise from her bright +black eyes being the only outward emotion it caused.</p> + +<p>"Why should I go to see you married?" was her impatient reply to his +stern commands. "I care nothing for Gipsy Gower, nor she for me. You can +be married just as well without me. I won't go!"</p> + +<p>Therefore she sat quietly reading at home while the nuptial revelry was +at its height in Sunset Hall, and looked up, with an exclamation of +surprise, to see our traveler standing before her.</p> + +<p>"Archie! what in the world brought <i>you</i> here?" she exclaimed, rising, +and placing a chair for him before the fire.</p> + +<p>"Rail-cars part of the way, steamer next, and, finally, my horse."</p> + +<p>"Don't be absurd. Why have you come to Saint Mark's? No one expected you +here these three months."</p> + +<p>"Know it, coz. But I've found out I am the luckiest dog in creation, and +ran down here to tell you and <i>another</i> particular friend I have. I +suppose you have heard of Uncle John Rivers, my father's brother. Yes! +Well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> about four months ago he returned from Europe, with one hundred +and fifty thousand dollars and the consumption. Though he never had the +honor of my acquaintance, he knew there existed so distinguished an +individual, and accordingly left the whole of his property to me; and a +few weeks after, gave up the ghost. You see, therefore, Minnette, I'm a +rich man. I've pitched law to its patron saint, the—hem!—and started +off down here post-haste to marry a certain little girl in these +diggin's, and take her with me to see the sights in Europe."</p> + +<p>"My dear cousin, I congratulate you. I presume Miss Pearl is to be the +young lady of your choice."</p> + +<p>"No; Celeste is too much of an angel for such a hot-headed scamp as I +am. I mean another little girl, whom I've long had a <i>penchant</i> for. But +where's your father?"</p> + +<p>Minnette laughed sarcastically.</p> + +<p>"Getting married, I presume. This night my worthy parent follows the +Scriptural injunction, and takes unto himself a wife."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Minnette!—you jest."</p> + +<p>"Do I?" said Minnette, quietly. "I thought you knew me well enough now, +Archie, to know I never jest."</p> + +<p>"But, Minnette, it is absurd. Dr. Wiseman married in his old age. Why, +it's a capital joke." And Archie laughed uproariously. "Who is the +fortunate lady that is to be your mamma and my respected aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no other than that little savage, Gipsy Gower."</p> + +<p>Had a spasm been suddenly thrust into Archie's heart, he could not have +leaped more convulsively from his seat. Even the undaunted Minnette drew +back in alarm.</p> + +<p>"What did you say?" he exclaimed, grasping her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> arm, unconsciously, with +a grip of iron. "To whom is he to be married?"</p> + +<p>"To Aurora Gower. What do you mean, sir? Let go my arm."</p> + +<p>He dropped it, staggered to a chair, dropped his head in his hands, and +sat like one suddenly struck by death.</p> + +<p>"Archie, what <i>is</i> the matter?" said Minnette, looking at him in wonder. +"Was Gipsy the one you came here to marry?"</p> + +<p>"Minnette! Minnette! it cannot be true!" he exclaimed, springing to +his feet, without heeding her question. "It is absurd—monstrous— +<i>impossible</i>! My wild, free, daring Gipsy would never consent to +marry a man she abhorred. For Heaven's sake, Minnette, only say you +have been jesting!"</p> + +<p>"I have spoken the truth," she answered, coldly. "My father this morning +married Aurora Gower!"</p> + +<p>"Great heavens! I shall go mad! What in the name of all the saints +tempted her to commit such an act?"</p> + +<p>"I know not. Most probably it is one of her strange freaks—or, perhaps, +she thinks papa rich, and married him for his money. At all events, +married him she has; her reasons for doing so I neither know nor care +for."</p> + +<p>"Heaven of heavens! Could Gipsy—she whom I always thought the pure, +warm-hearted child of nature—commit so base an act? It cannot be! I +will <i>never</i> believe it! By some infernal plot she has been entrapped +into this unnatural marriage, and dearly shall those who have forced her +rue it!" exclaimed Archie, treading up and down the room like one +distracted.</p> + +<p>"You always <i>thought</i> her simple and guileless; I always <i>knew</i> her to +be artful and ambitious. She has not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> been entrapped. I have heard that +she laughs as merrily as ever, and talks more nonsense than she ever did +before in her life—in short, appears perfectly happy. She is too bold +and daring to be entrapped. Besides, what means could they use to compel +her? If she found them trying to tyrannize over her, she would run off +as she did before. Nonsense, Archie! Your own sense must tell you she +has married him willingly."</p> + +<p>Every word was like a dagger to his heart. He dropped into a chair, +buried his face in his hands, and groaned.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy!—lost to me forever. What are wealth and honor to me +now! For you I toiled to win a home and name, believing you true. And +thus I am repaid for all. Oh, is there nothing but treachery and deceit +in this world? Would to heaven," he added, springing fiercely up, and +shaking back his fair, brown hair, "that the man she has wedded were not +an old dotard like that. I would blow his brains out ere another hour."</p> + +<p>"My father will, no doubt, rejoice to find his years have saved his +life," said Minnette, in her customary cold tone. "Pray, Mr. Rivers, be +more calm; there is no necessity for all this excitement. If Aurora +Gower has deserted you for one whom she supposed wealthier, it is only +the old story over again."</p> + +<p>"The old story!" exclaimed Archie, bitterly. "Yes, the old story of +woman's heartlessness and treachery, and man's blind self-deception. Be +calm! Yes; if you had told me she whom I love above all on earth was +dead, and in her grave, I might be calm; but the wife of another, and +that <i>other</i>"—he paused, and ground his teeth with impotent rage.</p> + +<p>"Well, since it is so, and cannot be helped, what's the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> use of making +such a time about it?" said Minnette, impatiently, taking up her book +and beginning to read.</p> + +<p>Archie glanced at the cold, stone-like girl before him, whose very +calmness seemed to madden him; then, seizing his hat, he rushed from the +room, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will see her—I will confront her once more, accuse her of her +deceit and selfishness, and then leave the country forever."</p> + +<p>He was out of the house in an instant; and in five minutes was galloping +madly through the driving wind and rain, unheeded and unfelt, now toward +Mount Sunset Hall.</p> + +<p>The numberless blazing lights from the many windows illumined his path +before it; the sound of revelry was wafted to his ears by the wind, +making him gnash his teeth in very rage.</p> + +<p>He reached the mansion, threw the reins to one of the many servants +standing in the court-yard; and all wet and travel-stained, pale, wild, +and excited as he was, he made his way through the wondering crowd, that +involuntarily made way for him to pass; and</p> + +<div class="poemblock40"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers and all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ere he alighted at Netherby gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bride had consented—the gallant came late."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Heeding not the many curious eyes bent upon him, still he strode on, +until he stood within the crowded drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Amid all that throng his eye saw but one face, beheld but one form. +Standing near the upper end of the room was Gipsy—<i>his</i> Gipsy +once—looking far more beautiful than he had ever seen her before, and +flirting with all her might with a dashing lieutenant.</p> + +<p>Having gained her point, to be married in black, she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> had exchanged her +dismal robes for the gorgeous wedding-dress that fell around her in +folds of light. Pearls flashed amid her raven curls, gleamed in her +ears, shone on her white arms, and rose and fell on her restless bosom. +She needed no rouge, for her cheeks were vivid crimson, her lips red and +glowing, her eyes outshining the jewels she wore. Never had Gipsy been +so lovely, so bewildering, so intoxicating before.</p> + +<p>The very sight seemed to madden Archie. To see her there in all her +dazzling beauty, the wife of another, laughing and talking as gayly as +though <i>he</i> had never existed, nearly drove him to desperation. Striding +through the crowd of gay revelers, who drew back in alarm from his wild, +pale face and fierce eyes, he advanced through the room, and stood +before the bride.</p> + +<p>There was an instantaneous hush through the room. Dr. Wiseman, already +sullen and jealous, sprang up from the distant corner to which he had +retreated, but did not venture to approach.</p> + +<p>Gipsy's graceful head was bent in well-affected timidity as she listened +to the gallant words and whispered compliments of the gay young officer, +when, suddenly looking up, she beheld a sight that froze the smile on +her lip, the light in her eye, the blood in her veins, the very life in +her heart. Every trace of color faded from her face, leaving her white +as the dead; her lips parted, but no sound came forth.</p> + +<p>"So, Mrs. Wiseman, I see you recognize me!" he said, with bitter +sarcasm. "Allow me to congratulate you upon this joyful occasion. Do not +let the recollection that you have perjured yourself to-day before God's +minister, mar your festivity to-night. No doubt the wealth for which you +have cast a true heart aside, and wedded a man you loathe, will make you +completely happy. As I leave America forever to-morrow, I wished to +offer my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> congratulations to the 'happy pair' before I went. I was fool +enough, at one time, to believe the promises you made me; but I did not +then know 'how fair an outside falsehood hath.' Farewell, Mrs. Wiseman! +you and I will never meet again. All your treachery, all your deceit, +your heartlessness, is known to me, and I will never trouble you more!"</p> + +<p>He turned, left the house, sprang on his horse, and was out of St. +Mark's ere any one had recovered from their astonishment and +stupefaction sufficiently to speak.</p> + +<p>He heard not, as he rode along, the wild, piercing cry of anguish that +broke from the lips of the bride, as she fell senseless to the ground. +He knew not, as he stood on the deck of the steamer, next morning, bound +for "merrie England," that the once free, wild, mountain huntress, the +once daring, defying Gipsy, lay raving and shrieking in the wild +delirium of brain fever, calling always in vain for him she had lost. +They had caught the young eaglet, and caged it at last; but the free +bird of the mountains lay wounded and dying in their grasp.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<h3>LOUIS.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A look of pride, an eye of flame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A full-drawn lip that upward curled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An eye that seemed to scorn the world."—<span class="smcap">Scott.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_i.png" alt="I" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +t was a merry morn in June, many months after the events related in the +last chapter. A brief retrospective glance it is necessary to take ere +we proceed.</p></div> + +<p>For many long weeks after the fatal night of her marriage, Gipsy lay +hovering between life and death; and Celeste came, with her loving +heart, and gentle voice, and noiseless footstep, and, unheeding rest or +sleep, nursed the poor, pale, crazed little bride back to life. No one +else would Gipsy have near her—not even Aunty Gower; and a physician +from the city attended her—for the very mention of her detested +bridegroom threw her into hysterics. But, notwithstanding all their +care, long months passed away ere Gipsy was well again, and Celeste, +worn and wearied, but uncomplaining, permitted to return to the peaceful +solitude of Valley Cottage.</p> + +<p>Dr. Wiseman had not yet breathed a syllable of Gipsy's parentage. He +could not do so during her illness; and when she recovered, he wished a +decent interval of time to elapse ere he made it known, lest the world +should suspect his previous knowledge of it had caused him to marry her. +Besides, he found there was no cause to hurry; for, during Gipsy's +illness, the squire had invited him to shut up his house at Deep Dale, +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> bring Minnette with him, to reside at Sunset Hall. To this the +doctor eagerly assented; and having, with some trouble, prevailed upon +Minnette to accompany him, Deep Dale was rented, and the doctor and his +daughter became domesticated at Mount Sunset Hall.</p> + +<p>Nearly nine months had elapsed. Gipsy—now as well as ever, and more +daring and mischievous even than before—had just set herself to work to +begin fulfilling the vow she had made, and soon succeeded in driving the +doctor nearly wild. Though he had merely married her for her money, he +had, as time passed on, learned to love her with a strange, selfish, +absorbing passion; and the more she mocked, and scorned, and laughed at +him, the more infatuated he grew. The wilful elf kept her husband in a +constant state of panic and terror, running into the greatest dangers +with the utmost recklessness, and often barely escaping with her life. +Out all hours of the day and night, sometimes not coming home until +morning, it is not to be wondered at that she kept the whole household +in alarm. Often after midnight, going out to search for her, they would +find her riding among the rocks, or, having tied up Mignonne, she would +be discovered asleep in some grotto or cavern. Then her flirting! The +doctor was madly jealous, and not without reason. There was not a man +under thirty, if at all presentable, but the reckless girl had flirted +unmercifully with, in a way that would have completely destroyed the +reputation of any other woman, but which was merely noticed by the +remark that it was "just like Gipsy;" and her maddest actions were +listened to with a smile and a stare of astonishment, and a "wonder what +she'll do next?" Poor, half-crazed little Gipsy! The real goodness of +her nature was too apparent to all through her outward recklessness to +make them suspect her of evil.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>St. Mark's had become a much gayer place than when we first knew it. +Many new families had moved hither from the city; and balls, and +parties, and sleigh-rides in winter, and picnics, and excursions, and +soirees, in summer, became all the rage; and the leader of all these was +the "merry little Mrs. Wiseman," as these new-comers called her. And no +one, to see her entering heart and soul into these festivities, would +ever dream of the miserable secret weighing on her mind, or the still +untamed, restless heart that struggled to find forgetfulness in constant +gayety.</p> + +<p>They had never heard of Archie since his departure, save once through +Louis, who, in one of his letters, spoke of having met him in Paris. No +one mentioned his name at Sunset Hall. Gipsy especially, even in the +remotest way, never alluded to him; and the good, obtuse family began to +hope she had quite forgotten him.</p> + +<p>And now we have come back to that merry morn in June with which this +chapter opened. Gipsy, arrayed in a tasteful riding-habit, which she +held up with one hand, while in the other she held a silver-mounted +riding-whip, stood in the breezy park, watching her horse, that was +neighing impatiently to be off. Mrs. Gower stood behind her, looking +troubled and anxious.</p> + +<p>"My dear Gipsy," she was saying, "I wish you would not go out this +morning. What will people say to see you out riding, and your husband +having fallen from his horse, and broken two of his ribs and his leg, +last night?"</p> + +<p>"I wish it had been his neck!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, child! don't say such sinful, wicked things. Of course, I know you +don't mean them; but then it's very wrong."</p> + +<p>"I don't care, aunty; I <i>do</i> wish it—there! I don't see what possesses +him to cumber the earth so long. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> he doesn't give up the ghost soon, +I'll administer a dose of hemp some night—for I do believe his destiny +is hanging. If there ever was a neck made for a rope, it's his—just the +shape for it. Jupe, mind what you're at there. Don't let Mignonne get +all over dust."</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, you will stay?"</p> + +<p>"I <i>won't</i> stay, aunty—not if it were Dr. Wiseman's neck, instead of +his ribs, that was broken. Oh, yes, I would, too; I'd stay home then for +joy. I'm off now. Good-bye. If his worship becomes extinct during my +absence, just send for me, and I'll shed a few tears, and everything +will go off in fashionable style."</p> + +<p>And, laughing at Mrs. Gower's scandalized face, Gipsy leaped on her +horse and rode off.</p> + +<p>As she ascended the hills behind Mount Sunset she beheld, opposite to +her, a horseman with his back toward her, standing silent and +motionless, gazing upon Sunset Hall.</p> + +<p>"I wonder who he is?" thought Gipsy. "A handsome fellow, I should say, +for his form is superb. Wonder if he knows he's standing on my favorite +point of view? Well, as I've no notion of surrendering my rights to him +or any one else, I'll just give him a hint to get out of that." And, +suiting the action to the words, Gipsy shouted, as she reined up her +horse: "Hallo, sir!"</p> + +<p>The horseman was still gazing like one entranced. He evidently did not +hear her.</p> + +<p>"I say, sir!" again called Gipsy.</p> + +<p>Still no answer.</p> + +<p>"Well, whoever you are," soliloquized Gipsy, "you're mighty polite to +refuse answering a lady. I'll try again. Look here, sirrah, will you?"</p> + +<p>He did not move.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'pon my honor, that's decidedly cool!" said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> Gipsy. "So you won't +pretend to notice me, eh? Very well, sir; we'll see whether you'll pay +more attention to a lady than this."</p> + +<p>And Gipsy drew a pistol from her belt, took deliberate aim, and fired.</p> + +<p>It was well she doubted not her own skill; it was well she had a steady +hand and eye; for the bullet passed through the crown of his hat, +scarcely two inches above the temple.</p> + +<p>With an exclamation of surprise and anger, the stranger turned round, +and likewise drew a pistol. His eye wandered over the scene; but he +could see no one but a young girl, who was coolly reloading her pistol, +as if about to send a second ball in the same direction.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, madam. Did you see any one fire just now," said the +stranger, in a most musical voice, as he rode toward her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, <i>I</i> fired it," replied Gipsy, impudently.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> did!" said the stranger, with a stare of surprise; "and may I +ask, madam, if it was your intention to shoot me?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it was! My aim was unfortunately taken a little too high. If +you'll just stand there again, I'll try another shot," replied Gipsy +gravely.</p> + +<p>Again the stranger stared, as though doubting the sanity of his +companion. There was no idiocy, however, in the bright, keen eyes, +twinkling with suppressed mirth, that were now lifted to his; and, +taking off his hat, the stranger pointed to the hole, saying:</p> + +<p>"On the whole, I think I have no particular fancy for being made a +target of—especially for so good a shot as you. May I ask the name of +the fair amazon I have been fortunate enough to meet?"</p> + +<p>"You must be a stranger here not to know it. I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> several names; the +last and least of which is—Mrs. Wiseman. And yours?"</p> + +<p>"Louis Oranmore, very much at your service," he answered, with a courtly +bow.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Such a stare as he got from those bright eyes—such a quick flush +of delight as overspread the pretty face beneath him—such a keen +scrutiny as his face underwent at that moment. He noticed it, without +pretending to do so; but there was an ill-repressed smile of amusement +hovering about his finely-chiseled lip. Yet it was evident he did not +recognize her.</p> + +<p>The handsome, impetuous boy had grown into a tall, elegant, +princely-looking man. His complexion, darkened by foreign suns to a +clear, manly olive, was shaded by a profusion of jet-black curling hair. +His fine dark eyes were bright, clear, almost piercing; his upper lip +was shaded by a black mustache, but it did not conceal its scornful +upward curve. Pride and passion, genius and unbending will were written +in every lineament of that irresistibly handsome face; yet there was at +times a winning softness in it, particularly when he smiled. He still +bore a strong likeness to his dead father, save that Louis was much +handsomer. There was something grand and noble in his tall yet slight +figure, mingled with an ease and grace of manner that bespoke his +acquaintance with polished society. His voice, that could at times ring +with the clarion tones of command, never addressed a woman without being +modulated to the softest and most musical of sounds. Such had our old +favorite Louis become—very little like the Louis we once knew, we must +own—very little like the guileless, innocent Louis, this gay young man +of pleasure.</p> + +<p>Perhaps something of all this was floating through the mind of Gipsy; +for in spite of the admiration that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> shone in her now radiant face, she +finished her scrutiny with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Well, fair lady, do you find me so very hideous that you thus turn +away?" he asked, fixing his deep, dark eyes in evident amusement on her +face.</p> + +<p>Gipsy would have blushed had she known how; but it was something she +knew very little about, so she merely answered:</p> + +<p>"Well, I think I have seen persons almost as frightful looking as you +before. You are a stranger here, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; though this is my native village, yet I have been absent for many +years in Europe. May I ask if you are acquainted with the inmates of +Sunset Hall yonder?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I've seen them."</p> + +<p>"Are they all well?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, I believe so; all but Spi—I mean Dr. Wiseman."</p> + +<p>"Dr. Wiseman! What has he to do there?—he does not belong to the +family."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he does."</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i>"</p> + +<p>"He married a ward of Squire Erliston's—Gipsy—something, I think they +called her. Gow—Gow—Gower, I believe, was the name—and then, with his +daughter, came there to live."</p> + +<p>"Why, is it possible? Has little Gipsy Gower married that old man—old +enough to be her grandfather?" exclaimed Louis, in unbounded amazement.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, after that, nothing will surprise me. And Archie never mentioned +a word of it," said Louis, in a sort of soliloquy; "and my—and Mrs. +Oranmore, how is she?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pretty well. She has not been very strong lately."</p> + +<p>"Poor mother! And the squire?"</p> + +<p>"Is quite well."</p> + +<p>"You reside in St. Mark's, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. Nonsense, Louis! Don't you know me?"</p> + +<p>"Hallo! No, it's not; yes, it is, though; it's Gipsy Gower, is it not?" +cried Louis.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. Mrs. Nicholas Wiseman, if you please," said Gipsy, drawing +herself up.</p> + +<p>"My dear little Gipsy, I am delighted to meet you again. How handsome +you have grown! Allow me to embrace my little playmate?"</p> + +<p>Accepting his salute with saucy cordiality, Gipsy turned her horse's +head in the direction of the Hall.</p> + +<p>"Tell me now, Louis, what brings you home so suddenly?" asked Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Why, to confess the truth, I grew tired of sight-seeing, and began to +feel homesick for the old, familiar faces; so, wishing to surprise you +all, I started without sending you word, and here I am. But, Gipsy, +whatever possessed you to marry that old man?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Love</i>, of course. People always marry for love, you know."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! Gipsy, I know better than that. Why did you jilt poor Archie? I +met him in Paris, half crazy, one would imagine. He answered my +questions rationally enough, until we came to speak of you, when he +burst forth into a torrent of invectives against flirts and deceivers in +general, and then seized his hat and fled from the room, leaving me to +conjecture as best I might his meaning. Come, Gipsy, own up, are you not +the cause of all this frenzy?"</p> + +<p>Gipsy's face had grown very pale; her eyes were bent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> on the ground, her +lips firmly compressed, as she answered, in a low, hurried voice:</p> + +<p>"Louis, don't talk to me on this subject. I am wicked and wretched +enough the best of times, but I always feel like a perfect fiend when +this subject is mentioned. Suffice it for you to know that fate had +decreed I should wed Dr. Wiseman; no earthly power could have prevented +it, therefore I became his wife."</p> + +<p>"Did they dare to force you?" exclaimed Louis, with a kindling eye. "If +so——"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Louis; I could have refused if I would. Don't mention this +subject more. See, there is the old hall; and there at the gate stands +Minnette Wiseman, <i>my</i> daughter now, you know. Is she not a beautiful +girl?"</p> + +<p>"Beautiful indeed!" exclaimed Louis, enthusiastically, pausing +involuntarily to gaze upon her.</p> + +<p>Splendid indeed looked Minnette. Her dress of black (she always wore +black) fluttering in the morning breeze, and confined at the slender +waist by a dark crimson belt. Her long, shiny blue-black hair was twined +in classic braids around her superb head. Her glorious black eyes were +fixed on the glancing waters of the bay, and no June rose ever bloomed a +more brilliant crimson than the hue of her cheek. She might have been an +Eastern queen—for her beauty was truly regal, with her dark, oriental +face, and splendid Syrian eye; but there was too much fire and passion +in her nature, and too few womanly traits and feelings.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Minnette, guess who's come!" cried Gipsy, riding up to where she +stood.</p> + +<p>"Who?" said Minnette, breathlessly, as her eye fell on Louis.</p> + +<p>The next moment she started convulsively; the blood rushed in torrents +to her brow. <i>She</i> had recognized him, though Gipsy had not.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's Louis," said Gipsy—"Louis Oranmore! Come, Louis! come! Miss +Minnette. I am going up to the house to tell them you have come."</p> + +<p>She was off like a flash, up the lawn, and in the house, while Louis +leaped from his horse, and with courtly grace raised Minnette's hand to +his lips; while she, pressing her hand to her heart, that beat and +throbbed as though it would force its way to him, strove to return his +salutation. It was a strange thing to see the cold, marble-like Minnette +so moved.</p> + +<p>"How everything has changed since I left home!" said Louis; "the place +itself seems changed, and you more than all. I left you a little girl, +thoughtful beyond your years, and I return to find you——"</p> + +<p>"The most beautiful woman my eyes ever rested on," he would have said, +but she raised her head, and something in the expression of her face +checked him.</p> + +<p>No marble ever was whiter or more cold, as she said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, all has changed, and none more so than your former <i>favorite</i>, +Celeste."</p> + +<p>"Ah! little Celeste—how is she? I had forgotten to ask for her. I trust +she is well?"</p> + +<p>"I presume so. I know nothing to the contrary."</p> + +<p>"I remember her a lovely child; I suppose she is an equally lovely +girl?" said Louis, carelessly.</p> + +<p>A scorching, scathing glance shot from the lightning eyes of Minnette; +but, without answering him, she turned away, and walked steadily into +the house.</p> + +<p>"Strange, incomprehensible girl!" said Louis, looking in surprise after +her. "How that flashing glance reminds me of the Minnette of other days! +Have I said anything to offend her, I wonder? Heigho! what a radiant +creature she is, to be sure! What would not some of the gay court +beauties I know give for that superb form and glorious face! Well, I +must not fall in love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> with her, however, if I can help it. Here comes +that airy little mountain sprite, Gipsy! and now for my lady mother!"</p> + +<p>"Come, Louis, come!" she cried, darting in again.</p> + +<p>Louis followed her as she led the way to his mother's chamber. Then +opening the door, she ushered him in, and closing it after her, +immediately retreated.</p> + +<p>Lizzie sat in an easy-chair, a crimson shawl wrapped around her, her +eyes bright, her pale cheeks flushed with expectation. She arose at his +entrance, and the next moment was clasped in his arms, while their +mutual exclamations were:</p> + +<p>"My dear Louis!"</p> + +<p>"My dearest mother!"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence; then Lizzie raised her head and surveyed +him from head to foot, her face sparkling with pride and admiration.</p> + +<p>"How tall you have grown! and how handsome you are!—handsome enough for +a king, I think, Louis!" she said, delightedly.</p> + +<p>"Are kings handsomer than other people, my dear mother?" he said, with a +smile.</p> + +<p>"Why, I suppose so; I never saw one. You are the very image of your poor +dead father, too! Dear me! what an age it seems since we parted last!" +said Lizzie, sinking back in her seat, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to find you so ill, mother," said Louis, gazing sadly into +her thin, pale face, from which the bright glow was fast fading.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am always worse in the spring than at any other time. In a month +or two I will be quite a different-looking individual," said Lizzie, +hopefully.</p> + +<p>An hour passed away, and then there came a tap at the door. Louis arose +and opened it, and beheld Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Well, Louis, if you're done talking to your mother,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> you'd better come +down and see Guardy. He's just woke up, but he doesn't know yet you've +come," said Gipsy.</p> + +<p>Louis went down stairs, taking half the staircase at a bound in his +haste. Pushing open the parlor door, he unceremoniously entered the +presence of the squire, who, after his old habit, lay in a lounging +chair, with his feet stretched upon another, smoking his pipe with the +benign air of a man at peace with himself and the rest of mankind.</p> + +<p>At the abrupt entrance of Louis he looked up with a start, and muttered +something suspiciously like an oath at seeing a tall, dark foreigner—as +he supposed him to be—standing before him.</p> + +<p>"Eh? who the deuce—I beg your pardon, sir, sit down," said the squire, +staring with all his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Do you not know me, my dear grandfather?" said Louis, advancing with +extended hand.</p> + +<p>"Why! Lord bless me, if it is not Louis Oranmore," said the squire, +jumping up, "with as much hair on his face as a chimpanzee monkey has on +its body. Bless my heart! this <i>is</i> a surprise! When did you get home? +Eh, when did you come?"</p> + +<p>"About an hour ago, sir."</p> + +<p>"And you're Louis? Well, well! Why, you weren't as high as that when you +left," holding his hand about three inches from the ground, "and here +you come back as tall as a lamp-post, with mustache enough for a +shoe-brush, and dressed like a Spanish grandee. 'All's vanity,' as +Solomon says. Well, and how did you get on with those old humbugs you +went off to see—eh?"</p> + +<p>"What old humbugs, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Pooh! you know very well—the old masters."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I flatter myself I have seen them to some purpose," said Louis, +laughing; "but, to change the subject,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> I perceive you have made a few +changes in the domestic economy of Sunset Hall during my absence."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, my boy; a few, a few! Gipsy's married to the old doctor, and +didn't want to, either; but we coaxed her round and took her while she +was 'in the humor,' as Solomon says."</p> + +<p>"I trust, sir, Gipsy was not <i>compelled</i> to marry this old man?" said +Louis, with a darkening brow.</p> + +<p>"Pooh! pshaw! of course not! Married him of her own free will—just like +Gipsy, always doing what nobody would expect; 'women are like mules,' as +Solomon says—want them to go one way, and they'll be sure to go +t'other," said the squire, uneasily, evidently anxious to change the +subject. "Have you seen old Wiseman and his daughter since your return?"</p> + +<p>"I have not seen the doctor, but his daughter I have. She is a most +beautiful girl," replied Louis.</p> + +<p>"Bah! 'All that glitters is not gold,' as Solomon says. She's a proud, +sullen, conceited minx, <i>that's</i> what she is—never liked her. And mind, +my young jackanapes, you mustn't go and fall in love with her. You must +look out for an heiress; not a girl like her, without a cent to bless +herself with."</p> + +<p>"I thought the doctor was rich," said Louis.</p> + +<p>"So he is; but stingy—infernally stingy! Won't give her a copper till +his death!"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I have no present intention of falling in love with her or +any one else; but if I had, Minnette Wiseman would be just the girl for +me. She is handsome, refined, intellectual, as any one can tell from her +conversation. What more would a man have?"</p> + +<p>"Stuff! moonshine! 'Fine words butter no parsnips,' as Solomon says. She +wants the <i>gilt</i>—the money, my boy. Love in a cottage sounds very fine, +but come to real life and see what it is. No, sir; I will never hear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> to +your marrying a poor girl—never! The heir of Erliston and Oranmore must +find an heiress for a wife. No matter about love, you know; money's the +thing. 'When poverty comes in at the door love flies out of the window,' +as Solomon says."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + +<h3>LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock28"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, her smile it seemed half holy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if drawn from thoughts more fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than our common jestings are;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if any painter drew her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would paint her, unaware,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a halo round her hair."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> +<p style="margin-left: 55%;"><span class="smcap">E. B. Browning.</span></p> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_a.png" alt="A" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> + week had passed away at Mount Sunset Hall since the arrival of Louis.</p></div> + +<p>It had been a week of unremitting storm. Rain, rain, rain, from morning +till night, and from night to morning, without ceasing.</p> + +<p>No one could go abroad in such weather; so the arrival of Louis remained +a secret in the neighborhood. It is true, Gipsy, who feared storm no +more than sunshine, would have ridden forth, but preparations were being +made for a grand party at the mansion, in honor of Louis' arrival, and +she was forced to stay at home to assist. The whole household, with the +exception of Louis and Minnette, were pressed into the business. Even +Lizzie sat in the dining-room and stoned raisins, and sorted fruit, and +pickles, and preserves, and looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> over dresses, and laces, and +muslins, and flowers, with unabated zeal. Gipsy might have been seen +flying about in calico long-shorts from morning till night, entering +heart and soul into the excitement. Jupiter and Mrs. Gower were sent to +the city for "things," and the squire was continually blowing and +blustering about, and over-seeing all in general.</p> + +<p>Minnette was too indolent to have anything to do with it, and so was +left to herself—and Louis. That young gentleman, seeing how busy all +were, gravely offered his services in the kitchen, saying, with the +assistance of Totty, he had no doubt but he would learn how to wash +dishes and make himself useful in time. His offer, however, like the +manuscripts often sent to publishers, was "respectfully declined," and +he and Minnette being thus thrown together, became, during the week of +the storm, the best of friends—perhaps something more.</p> + +<p>Their mornings were usually spent in the library, she embroidering while +he read aloud poetry—dangerous occupation for a young and handsome man. +Then he had such long stories and anecdotes to tell her, of his travels, +of his "hair-breadth escapes by flood and field;" and it <i>did</i> flatter +his vanity a little to see the work drop unnoticed from her hand, her +cheek flush or pale, her breath come quick and short at his words. Their +afternoons were mostly devoted to music; she seated at the piano playing +and singing his favorite songs, chiefly old Scotch and German love +ditties, which he liked better than Italian songs or opera music, in +spite of his usually fashionable taste. And Minnette—wild, passionate +girl that she was—who can tell the tumultuous thoughts that set her +heart throbbing so fast, or brought so vivid a crimson to her blooming +cheek, as he bent over her, entranced—his dark, glossy locks mingling +with hers? Perhaps he did not exactly make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> love to her, but he was too +thorough a man of the world not to perceive that she loved him, as only +one of her fiery, passionate nature can love. The proud, haughty girl, +who had all her life been a marble statue to others, was gentle and +timid as a child before him. And he—I cannot excuse him—but though he +loved her not he liked this devoted homage, this fiery heart he had +tamed and won; and by his manner, almost unconsciously, led her to +believe her love was returned. For the first time in her life, she was +supremely happy, yielding herself, without restraint, to the +intoxicating spell of his eye and voice.</p> + +<p>Gipsy's keen eyes saw all this, too—saw it with regret and +apprehension, and with instinctive dread.</p> + +<p>"Minnette's marble heart had been changed to quivering flesh at last," +was her soliloquy. "She <i>loves</i> him, and (it is the old story) he +<i>likes</i> her. Heaven forbid he should trifle with her! for woe to you, +Louis Oranmore, if the unchained force of Minnette's lion-passions is +aroused. Better for you you had never been born, than that the mad love +of her tiger heart should turn to still madder hate. She can never make +him or any one else happy; she is too fierce, too jealous, too exacting. +I wish she had never come here. I will ride over to-night or to-morrow, +and bring Celeste here; when he sees <i>her</i>, I know he can never love +Minnette. It may not be too late yet to remedy the evil. The love of +Celeste would ennoble him—raise him above the earth, that of Minnette +will drag him down, down, to darkness and doom. I must prevent it."</p> + +<p>Too late! too late! Gipsy. The evil has been done that can never be +remedied. The "marble-heart" is awakened from its long repose at last.</p> + +<p>The cards of invitation had been sent out for miles around. Early in the +evening of the day appointed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> Gipsy ordered the carriage and drove to +Valley Cottage. Miss Hagar, gray, grim, and unchanged, stiff and upright +as ever, sat (as usual) knitting in the chimney-corner. A perfect bower +of neatness was that little cottage—outside almost hidden in its wealth +of vines and leaves—inside, bright with cleanliness, and odoriferous +with the perfume of flowers that came drifting in through the white +draped windows and open door. And there, sitting by the window in her +neat-fitting muslin dress, bright, sunshiny, and smiling, sat sweet +Celeste, the "Star of the Valley," celebrated for her beauty for miles +around.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Miss Hagar! how d'ye do? Pleasant day," said Gipsy, flashing in +after her old fashion. "Celeste, throw down that sewing, and come right +off to the Hall with me; I want you."</p> + +<p>"Oh! really, my dear Gipsy, you must excuse me," smiled Celeste; "I am +making this dress for poor old Widow Mayer, and must finish it to-night. +So I cannot possibly go."</p> + +<p>"Now, that's just like you, Celeste—always sewing, or sitting up, or +writing letters, or reading the Testament to some poor old unfortunate, +instead of taking any pleasure for yourself. I declare you ought to be a +Sister of Charity, at once! But you sha'n't work yourself to death for +any one; so come along. I'll send the old lady over, to-morrow, every +dress I have, sooner than want you to-night."</p> + +<p>"But Miss Hagar, Gipsy; it is not right for me to leave her alone. She +is so lonesome without me."</p> + +<p>"No, she's not. You're glad to get rid of her; ain't you, Miss Hagar?"</p> + +<p>"I should be pleased to have her go. It is right she should enjoy +herself with the rest of the young folks," said Miss Hagar.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There! you hear that? Now you go and get ready!"</p> + +<p>"But really, dear Gipsy——"</p> + +<p>"Now, none of your 'dear Gipsy-ing' me! I won't listen to another word! +You <i>must</i> come; that's the whole of it," said Gipsy, seizing the work, +and throwing it into a corner, and pulling the laughing Celeste by main +force from the room.</p> + +<p>"But, Gipsy, why are you so anxious for me to go with you to-night?" +said Celeste, when they had reached her chamber.</p> + +<p>"Oh, because I have my <i>raysons</i> for it," as little Pat Flynn says. "Now +I want you to look your very prettiest to-night, Celeste. In fact, you +must be perfectly irresistible."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you are going to play me some trick, Gipsy!" said Celeste, +smiling and hesitating.</p> + +<p>"Oh! honor bright! Come, hurry up! Put on your white muslin; you look +better in it than anything else."</p> + +<p>"Besides being the best dress I have," said Celeste, as she took it +down, for the cottage maiden always dressed with the utmost plainness +and simplicity.</p> + +<p>"I'll run out and gather you some rosebuds for your hair," said Gipsy, +as Celeste began to dress.</p> + +<p>"But, indeed, Gipsy, I am not accustomed to be so gayly attired," said +Celeste, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! what is there gay in a few white rosebuds, I'd like to know? +You <i>shall</i> wear them," said Gipsy, hurrying from the room.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later and Celeste's toilet was complete. Very lovely she +looked in her simple white robe, fastened at her slender waist by a blue +ribbon, her shining hair of pale gold falling like a shower of sunlight +over her beautifully white and rounded neck, and wreathed with moss +roses. Her fair, rose-tinted face, with its deep,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> blue eyes, shaded by +long, sunny lashes; her red, smiling lips; her softly flushed cheeks, +and broad, transparent forehead, bright with youth, and goodness, and +loveliness!</p> + +<p>"Why, Celeste, you are radiant to-night—lovely, bewitching, angelic!" +exclaimed Gipsy, gazing upon her in sort of rapture.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, dear Gipsy!" said Celeste, smiling, and blushing even at the +words of the little hoyden. "Are you, too, becoming a flatterer?"</p> + +<p>"Not I; I would scorn to be! You know I never flatter, Celeste; but you +seem to have received a baptism of living beauty to-night."</p> + +<p>Celeste very well knew Gipsy never flattered. Candor was a part of the +elf's nature; so, blushing still more, she threw a light shawl over her +shoulders, and entered the sitting-room. Both girls took leave of Miss +Hagar, and entered the carriage, that whirled them rapidly in the +direction of Mount Sunset.</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, I know you have some design in all this?" said Celeste, as they +drove along.</p> + +<p>"Well; suppose I have?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I shall be tempted to take it very hard indeed. Why have you +brought me here, Gipsy?"</p> + +<p>"Well, to meet a friend. There now!"</p> + +<p>"Who is it?"</p> + +<p>"Sha'n't tell you yet. Here we are at home."</p> + +<p>Celeste glanced from the window, and saw the court-yard full of +carriages, the hall illuminated, and throngs of people pouring in.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible, Gipsy, this is a large party?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; just so, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gipsy! it was too bad of you to entrap me in this way!" said +Celeste, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Fiddle! it's a great thing to go to a party, ain't it?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> Come, jump out, +and come up to my dressing-room; I have a still greater surprise in +store for you."</p> + +<p>Celeste passed, with Gipsy, through a side door, and both ran, +unobserved, up to her room. Then—after an hour or so, which it took +Gipsy to dress, both descended to the saloon, where the dancing was +already at its height.</p> + +<p>Their entrance into the crowded rooms produced a decided sensation. +Gipsy, blazing with jewels, moved along like a spirit of light, and +Celeste, in her fair, moonlight beauty, looking like some stray angel +newly dropped in their midst.</p> + +<p>Gipsy led her guest to the upper end of the room, under a raised arch of +flowers that filled the air with fragrance.</p> + +<p>"Stay here until I come back for you," she whispered, as she turned, and +disappeared among the throng.</p> + +<p>Flitting hither and thither like a sunbeam, she paused until she +discovered Louis, with Minnette leaning on his arm, calling up the +smiles and blushes to her face at his all-powerful will.</p> + +<p>"Louis! Louis! come with me! I want you a moment. You'll excuse him, +Minnette, will you not?" said Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly!" said Minnette, with a radiant look, little dreaming for +what purpose he was taken from her.</p> + +<p>Passing her arm through his, Gipsy led him to where he could obtain a +full view of Celeste, without being seen by her.</p> + +<p>"Look!" she said, pointing.</p> + +<p>He looked, started suddenly, and then stood like one transfixed, with +his eyes riveted to the glorious vision before him.</p> + +<p>She stood under the flowery canopy, robed in white, crowned with roses, +leaning against a marble statue of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> Hebe, herself a thousand times +lovelier than that exquisitely sculptured form and face. This was his +ideal, found at last—this the face and figure that had haunted his +dreams all his life, but had never been found before; just such an +angelic creature he had striven all his life to produce on canvas, and +always failed. He stood motionless, enchanted, drinking in to +intoxication the bewildering draught of her beauty.</p> + +<p>"Louis," said Gipsy, laying her hand on his arm.</p> + +<p>He heard not, answered not; he stood gazing like one chained to the +spot.</p> + +<p>"Louis," she said in a louder tone.</p> + +<p>Still she was unheeded,</p> + +<p>"Louis, you provoking wretch!" she said, giving him a shake.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said, without removing his dazzled eyes from the vision +before him.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of her? Is she not lovely?"</p> + +<p>"Lovely!" he repeated, rousing himself from the trance into which he had +fallen. "Gipsy, she is <i>divine</i>. Do not praise her beauty; no words can +do it justice."</p> + +<p>"Whew!—caught already! There's love at first sight for you."</p> + +<p>"Gipsy, who is she—that vision of light—my life-dream—that I have +found at last?"</p> + +<p>"Then you don't know her? Bless your dear, innocent heart! that's +Celeste—your 'Star of the Valley,' you know!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! I recognize her now—my Star of the Valley, rightly named. +Would she <i>were</i> mine!" he added, in a lower tone.</p> + +<p>"Shall I present you?"</p> + +<p>"Does she know I am here?"</p> + +<p>"No; I didn't tell her a word about it."</p> + +<p>"Then leave me. I will present myself."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All right; that'll save me some trouble; and I hear somebody over there +singing out for Mrs. Wiseman. So <i>au revoir</i>, and Cupid be with you!"</p> + +<p>And, laughingly, Gipsy glided away, and Louis went up and stood before +Celeste.</p> + +<p>She looked up with a start, to find the handsomest man she had ever seen +in her life standing before her, gazing upon her with such a look of +intense admiration in his deep, dark eyes, that the blood rushed to her +cheek, and the white lids dropped over the shrinking blue eyes. Another +moment, and both her hands were clasped in his; while he cried, in a +voice that was low, but full of passion:</p> + +<p>"Celeste! Celeste! little sister!—do you not know me?"</p> + +<p>"Louis!" broke from her lips, in a wild exclamation of joy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sweet sister, your boy-friend, Louis, home again."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis, I am <i>so</i> glad!" she said, lifting her cloudless blue eyes +to his, radiant with delight.</p> + +<p>"Then you have not forgotten me? I feared you had," he said, bending +over her, and holding fast the little hand that lay imprisoned in his.</p> + +<p>"Forget you!—oh, no," she said, her heart fluttering wildly that moment +against a little golden cross—<i>his</i> parting gift, which had lain on her +bosom all those years.</p> + +<p>There was a look of eager delight on his face at her words. She saw it, +and grew embarrassed. Withdrawing her hand from his, she said, in a more +composed voice:</p> + +<p>"When did you arrive?"</p> + +<p>"About a week ago. I would have gone to see you,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> but the weather was so +disagreeable," he replied, with a pang of regret and remorse for his +neglect.</p> + +<p>"Yes, so it was," said Celeste, sincerely; for, having no morbid +self-love to be wounded, his excuse seemed the most natural thing in the +world.</p> + +<p>"And how is my old friend, Miss Hagar?" he asked, drawing her arm within +his, and leading her toward the conservatory, now almost deserted.</p> + +<p>"Oh, quite well. She will be delighted to see you."</p> + +<p>"May I go and see her to-morrow, sweet Celeste?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly you may. We will <i>both</i> be very glad to see you," answered +Celeste, delightedly.</p> + +<p>"She is certainly a paragon of simplicity. No woman of the world would +say that," thought Louis, as he glanced at her eager, happy face.</p> + +<p>An exclamation from Celeste attracted his attention. He looked up. Right +before him stood Minnette, with her glittering black eyes fixed upon +them with a look so fierce, so flamingly jealous, that he started back.</p> + +<p>"Why, Minnette, what is the matter? Are you ill?" asked Celeste, in +alarm.</p> + +<p>She would have turned away without answering; but the dark eye of Louis +was upon her, and she replied, coldly:</p> + +<p>"I am perfectly well. Excuse me; I fear I have interrupted a pleasant +<i>tete-a-tete</i>."</p> + +<p>And, with one fierce, scorching glance at Celeste, she turned, and +hurried away.</p> + +<p>Celeste shuddered; something in the dark, passionate face of Minnette +frightened her. Her companion perceived it—well he understood the +cause; and with matchless tact he drew her mind from the subject to fix +it on himself.</p> + +<p>During the evening he devoted himself assiduously to Celeste. With her +he danced; on his arm she leaned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> in the promenade; by his side she sat +at table. Standing alone and neglected by herself, Minnette saw it all; +and, had looks power to kill, those flaming glances of fire would have +stricken her rival dead.</p> + +<p>It was near morning when the party broke up. Celeste—who always shared +Gipsy's room when at the Hall—sought her couch, and soon closed her +weary blue eyes in blissful slumbers.</p> + +<p>That night, in the dreams of Louis, the dark, resplendent face of +Minnette was forgotten for a white-robed vision with a haunting pair of +blue eyes. And Minnette—in the calm light of the stars, she trod up and +down her apartment until morning broke over the hill-tops, with a wild +anguish at her heart she had never before known.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>"THE OLD, OLD STORY."</h3> + +<div class="poemblock44"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have loved thee, thou gentlest, from a child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And borne thine image with me o'er the sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soft voice in my soul! Speak! oh, yet live for me!"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> +<p style="margin-left: 70%"><span class="smcap">Hemans.</span></p> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_a.png" alt="A" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> + gay party gathered around the breakfast-table at Sunset Hall the next +morning.</p></div> + +<p>There was Mrs. Oranmore—fair, fragile, but still pretty; then Mrs. +Gower, over-shadowing the rest with her large proportions until they all +shrank into skeletons beside her, with the exception of the squire, who +was in a state of roaring good humor. There was Mrs. Doctor Nicholas +Wiseman—our own little Gipsy—as usual, all life, bus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>tle and gayety, +keeping up a constant fire of repartee—laughing and chatting +unceasingly, poor little elf! to drown thought.</p> + +<p>Then there was Louis—gay, gallant and handsome—setting himself and +everybody else at ease by his stately courtesy and polished manners. By +his side sat our favorite Celeste, fair and fresh, and bright as a +rosebud, smiling and blushing at the compliments showered upon her. And +last, there sat Minnette, pale, and cold, and silent, with the long, +black lashes falling over her eyes to hide the dusky fire that filled +them.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would stay all day with us, Celeste," said Mrs. Oranmore. "I +always feel twice as well when I can look upon your bright face. It +seems to me you must have drank at the fountain of beauty and youth."</p> + +<p>"In that I agree with you, madam," said Louis.</p> + +<p>Minnette bit her lip till the blood started.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I really cannot stay, Mrs. Oranmore," said Celeste, blushing +vividly. "Miss Hagar is always very lonely during my absence; and +besides——"</p> + +<p>"You are engaged to make gowns and nightcaps for all the old women of +the parish! I know all about it," broke in Gipsy. "Formerly <i>I</i> used to +be prime favorite in St. Mark's; but since our return from school I am +thrown aside like an old shoe, to make room for your ladyship. I'll +leave it to the world in general if I wasn't quoted as an oracle on +every occasion. There wasn't a baby spanked, nor an old dress turned +upside down, but I was consulted about it. Now, just look at the +difference; it's Miss Celeste here, and Miss Celeste there, and Miss +Celeste everywhere; while I'm nothing but a poor, dethroned, +misfortunate little wretch! I won't put up with it—I just won't. I'll +leave it to my daughter-in-law over there, if it isn't unbearable."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, ha! What do you say, Miss Wiseman?" said the squire, laughing.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about it," coldly replied Minnette.</p> + +<p>"And care less, I suppose," said Gipsy. "That's just the way! Even my +own children treat me with disrespect. Well, never mind; perhaps the +tables will turn yet."</p> + +<p>"I am to attend you home, am I not, Celeste?" said Louis, in a low +voice, as they arose from the table.</p> + +<p>"I am sure I do not know. I suppose you may, if you wish," she replied, +ingenuously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, go, by all means," said Gipsy, who overheard them. "Anything to +keep them away from Minnette," she muttered inwardly.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, shortly after the carriage was brought round. Louis handed +Celeste in, took the reins, and drove off, unconscious that Minnette, +from her chamber window, was watching them, with a look that would have +appalled him had he seen it.</p> + +<p>That drive home—to what an unheard-of length was it prolonged! Had he +been training his horses for a funeral, Louis could not have driven them +slower. He had so many things to tell her; wild yet beautiful German +legends—of the glorious skies of glorious Italy—of the vine-clad hills +of sunny Spain—of gay, gorgeous Paris—and of the happy homes of +"merrie England." And Celeste, lying back among the cushions, with +half-closed eyes, drank in his low-toned, eloquent words—listened to +the dangerous music of his voice—with a feeling unspeakably delicious, +but hitherto unknown. She saw not the burning glances of his dark eyes, +as they rested on her fair face, but yielded herself up to his magnetic +influence without attempting to analyze her feelings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<p>They reached Valley Cottage all too soon. Louis handed her out, and +entered the cottage after her.</p> + +<p>Miss Hagar sat in her old seat, as though she had never moved from it.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, dear Miss Hagar," said Celeste, kissing her so +affectionately that Louis inwardly wished he could become an old woman +forthwith. "See—I have brought a stranger home with me."</p> + +<p>Louis stood smiling before her. She raised her solemn, prophetic gray +eyes to his face, with a long, earnest gaze.</p> + +<p>"Louis Oranmore!" she exclaimed—"welcome home!"</p> + +<p>He raised the withered hand she extended so respectfully to his lips +that a radiant glance of gratitude from the blue eyes of Celeste +rewarded him.</p> + +<p>How that morning slipped away, Louis could never tell; but seated, +talking to Miss Hagar, with his eyes fixed on the rosy fingers of +Celeste flying with redoubled velocity to make up for what was lost, he +"took no note of time," until the little clock on the mantel struck two.</p> + +<p>"By Jove! so it is!" exclaimed Louis, horrified at his prolonged visit. +"What will they think of me at home?"</p> + +<p>"Stay and take dinner with us," said Miss Hagar, hospitably.</p> + +<p>He hesitated, and glanced at Celeste.</p> + +<p>"Pray do," she said, lifting her sunshiny face with an enchanting smile.</p> + +<p>Inwardly rejoicing, he consented; and the long summer afternoon vanished +as the morning had done—unnoticed.</p> + +<p>"I fear your cottage is enchanted, Miss Hagar," he said, laughingly, as +he at last arose to go; "I find it next to impossible to tear myself +away from it. Or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> perhaps there is some magnet concealed that keeps +people here against their will."</p> + +<p>Miss Hagar smiled good-humoredly, and invited him to repeat his +visit—an invitation, it is unnecessary to say, the young gentleman +condescended to accept.</p> + +<p>Celeste accompanied him to the door. As they passed out, he said:</p> + +<p>"On this very spot we parted years ago. Do you remember that parting, +Celeste?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, softly, while her fair face grew crimson as she +remembered how wildly she had wept and clung to his neck then.</p> + +<p>He read what was passing in her mind, and smiled slightly.</p> + +<p>"Your farewell gift, that shining ring of gold, I have kept ever since, +as a talisman against all evil," he said, with a slight twinge of +conscience as he remembered where it was—at the bottom of one of his +trunks, with some scores of other tresses, severed from other fair +heads, their owners long since forgotten.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you did not forget me during your absence," said Celeste, +feeling very much confused, and not knowing very well what she was +expected to reply.</p> + +<p>"Forget you, Celeste! Who could ever do so after beholding you once?" +Then, seeing how painfully she was embarrassed, he turned gayly away, +saying: "Good-bye, fairest Celeste! When shall we meet again?"</p> + +<p>"I know not. Next Sunday, at church, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"As if I could exist so long without seeing my fair Star of the Valley! +May I not come to-morrow, Celeste?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you will bring Gipsy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind Gipsy! She will most probably be 'over the hills and far +away' long before I open my eyes on this mortal life in the morning. +Therefore, to-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>morrow will behold me once more by the side of my liege +lady."</p> + +<p>And bowing lightly, he sprang into the saddle and galloped off, followed +by Celeste's eyes until he was out of sight.</p> + +<p>The gloaming was falling when he reached Sunset Hall. He entered the +parlor. It was dark and untenanted, save by a slender, black-robed +figure, seated by the window, as motionless as a statue. It was +Minnette—her white hands clasped tightly together, and resting on the +window-sill, her forehead leaned upon them, her long black hair falling +in disorder over her shoulders.</p> + +<p>A pang of remorse shot through his heart at the sight of that despairing +figure. He went over and laid his hand gently on her arm.</p> + +<p>"Minnette!" he said, softly.</p> + +<p>At the sound of that loved voice, at the touch of that dear hand, she +started up, and, flinging back her long hair, confronted him, with such +a white, haggard face, such wild, despairing eyes, that involuntarily he +started back.</p> + +<p>"Dear Minnette, what is the matter?" he said, gently taking her hand.</p> + +<p>She wrenched it from his grasp, with a bitter cry, and sinking back into +a seat, covered her face with her hands.</p> + +<p>"Minnette, are you ill? What is the matter?" he asked, afraid to accept +the answer that his own heart gave.</p> + +<p>"The matter!" she cried, bitterly. "Oh, you may ask! <i>You</i> do not know. +<i>You</i> were not by my side from morning till night, whispering your wily +words into my ear, until this fair, this angelic, Celeste came! <i>You</i> do +not know what it is to have led a cold, loveless life, until some one +came and won all the wealth of love that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> had all your days lain +dormant, and then cast it back as a worthless gift at your feet! <i>You</i> +do not know what it is to discover first you have a heart by its aching! +Oh, no! All this is unknown to you. 'Ill!'"</p> + +<p>She laughed wildly.</p> + +<p>"Minnette! Minnette! do not talk so passionately! In the name of heaven, +what have I done?"</p> + +<p>"Done!" she repeated, springing fiercely to her feet. "No need to ask +what you have done! Was not this heart marble—harder than marble—ay, +or granite—till you came? Did you not read it as you would an open +book? Did you not strike the rock with a more powerful wand than that of +Moses, and did not all the flood of life and love spring forth at your +command? You never said in so many words: 'I love you.' Oh, no—you took +care not to commit yourself; but could I not read it in every glance of +your eye. Yes, deny it if you will, you <i>did</i> love me, until this +fair-faced seraph—this 'stray angel,' as I heard you call her—came, +and then, for the first new face, I was cast aside as worthless. I was +too easy a conquest for this modern hero; and for this artful little +hypocrite—for her pink cheeks, her blue eyes, and yellow hair—the +heart that loves you ten thousand times more than she can ever do, is +trampled under foot! But I tell you to beware, Louis Oranmore; for if I +am a 'tigress,' as you often called me in my childhood, I can tear and +rend in pieces all those who will cause my misery."</p> + +<p>She looked like some beautiful fiend, in her fierce outburst of stormy +passion; her face livid, save two dark purple spots on either cheek; her +eyes flaming, blazing; her lips, white; her wild black hair falling like +a vail of darkness around her white face.</p> + +<p>"Minnette—<i>dear</i> Minnette!"—like a magic spell his low-toned words +fell on her maddened spirit—"you are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> mistaken. I never loved you as +you fancy; I admired your beauty. I might have loved you, but I well +knew the fierce, jealous nature that lay smoldering in your heart, under +the living coals of your passions. Minnette, the woman I love must be +gentle and <i>womanly</i>, for that means all; the fawn, not the lioness, +suits me. Extremes meet, they say; and my own nature is too hot, +passionate, and fiery, ever to mate with a spirit like to itself. In +Celeste, gentle, tender, and dove-like—sit still, Minnette, you <i>must</i> +hear me out." He held her down, writhing in anguish, by the force of his +stronger will. "In her, I say, I find all that I would ask of a woman. +Therefore my heart was drawn toward her. Had I found the same qualities +in you, I would have loved you, instead of her. And now, dear Minnette, +forgive me if I have occasioned you pain; but for your own peace of +mind, it was necessary that I should tell you this."</p> + +<p>She was quivering, writhing in intense anguish, crouching in her seat in +a strange, distorted attitude of utter despair. His eyes were full of +deep pity as he gazed upon her.</p> + +<p>"Minnette, do you forgive me?" he said, coming over and trying to raise +her head.</p> + +<p>"Oh, leave me—leave me!" was her reply, in a voice so full of intense +suffering that he started.</p> + +<p>"Only say you forgive me."</p> + +<p>"Never! May God never forgive me if I do!" she cried, with such +appalling fierceness that he quailed before her. "Leave me, I tell you!" +she cried, stamping her foot, "leave me before I go mad!"</p> + +<p>He quitted the room: and Minnette was alone, with her own uncontrolled +passions for company. The agony of ages seemed to be concentrated into +those moments;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> every fiber of her heart seemed tearing from its place, +and lay quivering and bleeding in her bosom.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Weeks passed. Day after day found Louis at Valley Cottage, reading and +talking, or walking with Celeste. And she—there was no mistaking that +quick flushing, that involuntary smile, that sudden brightening of the +eye, at the sound of his footstep or the tones of his voice. Yes, the +Star of the Valley was wooed and won. And all this time Minnette sat in +her own room, alone, wrapped in her own gloomy thoughts as in a +mantle—the same cold, impassible Minnette as ever. Yet there was a +lurid lightning, a blazing fire, at times, in her eye, that might have +startled any one had it been seen.</p> + +<p>One bright moonlight night in July Louis and Celeste were wandering +slowly along the rocky path leading to the cottage. Even in the +moonlight could be seen the bright flush that overspread her fair face, +as she listened, with drooping head and downcast eyes, to his low, +love-toned words.</p> + +<p>"And so you love me, my sweet Celeste, better than all the world?" he +asked softly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" was the answer, almost involuntarily breathed.</p> + +<p>"And you will be my wife, Celeste?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis! Your grandfather will never consent."</p> + +<p>"And if he does not, what matter?" cried Louis, impetuously. "I am my +own master, and can marry whom I please."</p> + +<p>"Louis—Louis! do not talk so. I would never marry you against his +will."</p> + +<p>"You would not?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, certainly not. It would be wrong, you know."</p> + +<p>"Wrong! How would it be wrong, Celeste? I am sure my mother would not +object; and as for him, what right has he to interfere with my +marriage?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis! you know he has a guardian's right—a parent's right—to +interfere. Besides," she added, blushing, "we are both too young to be +married. Time enough these seven years."</p> + +<p>"Seven years!" echoed Louis, laughing; "why, that would be as bad as +Jacob and—Rachel. Wasn't that the name? Come, my dear Celeste, be +reasonable. I cannot wait seven years, though very likely you could. +During all those long years of absence the remembrance of you has +cheered my loneliest hours. I looked forward impatiently to the time +when I might return and see my Star of the Valley again. And now that I +have come, you tell me to wait seven years! Say, Celeste, may I not ask +my grandfather—and if he consents, will you not be mine?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—I'll think about it," said Celeste, timidly.</p> + +<p>"And I know how that thinking will end. Here we are at the cottage. +Good-night, my little white dove! To-morrow I will see you, and tell you +his decision."</p> + +<p>One parting embrace, and he turned away. Celeste stood watching him +until he was out of sight, then turned to enter the cottage. As she did +so, an iron grasp was laid on her shoulder, and a hoarse, fierce voice +cried:</p> + +<p>"Stop!"</p> + +<p>Celeste turned, and almost shrieked aloud, as she beheld Minnette +standing like a galvanized corpse before her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + +<h3>THE RIVALS.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock38"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"All other passions have their hour of thinking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hear the voice of reason. This alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breaks at the first suspicion into frenzy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweeps the soul in tempests."—<span class="smcap">Shakespeare.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_f.png" alt="F" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +or a moment the rivals stood silently confronting each other—Celeste +pale and trembling before that dark, passionate glance; Minnette white +and rigid, but with scorching, burning eyes.</p></div> + +<p>"Minnette, what is the matter?" said Celeste, at last finding voice. +"Good heavens! you look as though you were crazed."</p> + +<p>"Crazed!" hissed Minnette through her teeth. "You consummate little +hypocrite! Your conduct, no doubt, should make me very cool and +composed. Girl, I say to you, beware! Better for you you had never been +born, than live to cross my path!"</p> + +<p>Her voice was hoarse with concentrated passion—her small hands clenched +until the nails sank into the quivering flesh. With a shudder, Celeste +covered her face in her hands to shut out the scathing glance of those +dark, gleaming eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Minnette!—dear Minnette!—do not look at me so. Your eyes kill +me," she said, with a shiver.</p> + +<p>"Would to Heaven they could!" fiercely exclaimed Minnette.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Minnette! what have I done? If I have injured you, I am very sorry. +Indeed, indeed, it was unin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>tentional. I would sooner die than have any +one hate me!" said Celeste, clasping her hands imploringly.</p> + +<p>"Injured me!" almost shrieked Minnette, clutching her arm so fiercely, +that Celeste cried out with pain. "Injured me, did you say? Yes—the +greatest injury one woman can ever do another you have done me. From +early childhood you have crossed my path, and, under your artfully +assumed vail of simplicity, won the love of the only being under heaven +I ever cared for—won him with your silly smiles, your baby face, and +cowardly tears; you, a poor, nameless beggar—a dependent on the bounty +of others. <i>Hate you!</i>—yes, from the first moment I beheld you, I hated +you with an intensity you can never dream of until you feel the full +weight of my vengeance; for I tell you I will be avenged; yes, I would +peril my own soul, if by so doing I could wreak still more dire revenge +on your head. I tell you, you began a dangerous game when you trifled +with me. I am no sickly, sentimental fool, to break my heart and +die—no; I shall drag down with me all who have stood in my way, and +then die, if need be, gloating over the agonies I have made them suffer. +Beware, I tell you; for no tigress, robbed of her young, can be fiercer +than this newly awakened heart!"</p> + +<p>She hurled Celeste from her, as she ceased, with such violence, that she +reeled and fell; and, striking her head against a projecting stone, lay +for some minutes stunned and motionless. A dark stream of blood flowed +slowly from the wound; and Minnette stood gazing upon it with a fiendish +smile on her beautiful face. Slowly, and with difficulty, Celeste +arose—pressing her handkerchief to her face to stanch the flowing +blood; and, lifting her soft, pitying eyes to the wild, vindictive face +above her, she said:</p> + +<p>"Minnette, I forgive you. You are crazed, and know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> not what you do. +But, oh! Minnette, you wrong me. I never intentionally injured +you—never, as heaven is my witness! I have tried to love you as a +sister always. Never, never—by word, or thought, or deed—have I +willingly given you a moment's pain. I would sooner cut off my right +hand than offend you. Oh, Minnette! can we never be friends?"</p> + +<p>"Friends!" repeated Minnette, with a wild laugh; "yes, when the serpent +dwells with the dove; when the tiger mates with the lamb; when two +jealous woman love each other—then we will be friends. Perjure yourself +not before me. Though an angel from heaven were to descend to plead for +you, I would neither forgive you nor believe your words."</p> + +<p>"What have I done to make you hate me so?"</p> + +<p>"You brazen hypocrite! do you dare to ask me what you have done? <i>He</i> +did, too! A precious pair of innocents, both of you!" said Minnette, +with her bitter, jeering laugh. "Little need to tell you what you have +done. Did you not win the love of Louis Oranmore from me by your +skillful machinations? He loved me before he saw you. You knew it; and +yet, from the very first moment you beheld him, you set to work to make +him hate me. Do not deny it, you barefaced, artful impostor! Did I not +hear you both to-night?—and was not the demon within me prompting me to +spring forward and stab you both to the heart? But my vengeance, though +delayed, shall be none the less sure, and, when the time comes, woe to +you and to him; for if I must perish, I shall not perish alone."</p> + +<p>During this fierce, excited speech—every word of which had stabbed her +to the heart—Celeste had staggered against a tree; and, covering her +face with her hands, stood like one suddenly pierced by a sword; every +word burned into her very brain like fire, as she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> stood like one +fainting—dying. By a great effort, she crushed back the flood of her +emotions; and when Minnette ceased, she lifted up her face—pale as +death, but firm and earnest.</p> + +<p>"Minnette Wiseman," she said, in a voice of gentle dignity, so unusual +to her that the dark, passionate girl gazed on her in astonishment, "as +heaven hears me, I am guilty of none of these things of which you accuse +me. If Louis Oranmore loved you, I knew it not, or I would not have +listened to him; if he won your heart, I dreamed not of it, or he should +never have won mine. I thought you loved no one but yourself. I +never—never dreamed you cared for him. For all the misery he has caused +us both, may heaven forgive him, as I do! If he loved you first, you +have a prior claim to his heart. I will tell him so to-morrow, and never +listen to him more."</p> + +<p>She strove to speak calmly to the end; but at the last her voice died +away in a low tone of utter despair.</p> + +<p>"Bah! your acting disgusts me!" exclaimed Minnette, contemptuously. "Do +you not suppose I can see through this vail with which you would blind +my eyes? You will tell him to-morrow, forsooth! Yes, you will tell him I +came here to abuse you, and strike you, and load you with vile epithets, +and with what saint-like patience you bore them. You will represent +yourself as such an injured innocent, and I as a monster of cruelty; you +will tell him, when I smote you on one cheek, how you turned the other. +Faugh! do not make me despise you as well as hate you."</p> + +<p>"You cannot despise me, Minnette; you know you cannot," said Celeste, +with something like indignation in her gentle voice, as her +truth-beaming eye met undauntedly the flashing orbs before her. "You +know I have spoken the truth. You know in your own heart I am no +hypocrite. Hate me if you will—I cannot pre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>vent you; but you shall not +despise me. I have never intentionally wronged you, and I never will. If +Louis Oranmore loves you as you say, I wish you both all happiness. I +shall no longer stand between you and his heart."</p> + +<p>"Oh! wonderful heroism!" cried Minnette, in bitter mockery. "You can +well afford to say you give him up, when you know he loves me no longer; +when you know you have surely and unalterably won him to yourself. Well +do you know this pretended self-denial of yours will elevate you a +thousand times higher still in his estimation, and make him love you far +more than ever before. Oh! you have learned your trade of deception +well. Pity all cannot see through it as I do. Think not to deceive me as +you have done so many others; I, at least, can see your shallow, +selfish, cold-blooded heart."</p> + +<p>"I will not stay to listen to your words, Minnette; they are too +dreadful. Some day, perhaps, you will discover how you have wronged me. +I am not deceiving you; he <i>must</i> give me up if what you say be true. I +will even go away if you wish it—anywhere, so that you may be +satisfied. I will write and tell him, and never see him more, if that +will satisfy you." Her voice faltered a little, but she went on; "I will +do anything—anything, Minnette, if you will only not call me such +terrible things. It is fearful—horrible, to be hated so without cause."</p> + +<p>Minnette did not speak, but glared upon her with her burning, flaming +eyes. Two dark purple spots—now fading, now glowing vividly out—burned +on either cheek; otherwise, no snow-wreath was ever whiter than her +face. Her teeth were set hard; her hands tightly clenched; her dark +brows knit, as though about to spring upon the speaker and rend her to +pieces. She made one step toward her. With a piercing cry of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> terror, +Celeste sprang away, darted through the garden gate, flew up the narrow +path, burst into the cottage, closed and bolted the door, and sank, +panting and almost fainting, on the ground.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens! child, what is the matter?" asked Miss Hagar, rising, in +alarm.</p> + +<p>"Oh! save me—save me from her!" was all Celeste could utter.</p> + +<p>"Save you from whom? Who are you speaking of? Who has frightened you +so?" inquired Miss Hagar, still more astonished.</p> + +<p>Celeste slowly rose from the ground, without speaking. Consciousness was +beginning to return, but she was still stunned and bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Merciful Father!" cried Miss Hagar, as Celeste turned toward the light, +"what has happened?"</p> + +<p>And truly she might exclaim, at beholding that deadly paleface—those +wild, excited eyes—the disheveled golden hair—the blood-stained, and +torn and disordered dress.</p> + +<p>"Nothing! oh, nothing, nothing!" said Celeste, passing her hand slowly +over her eyes, as if to clear away a mist, and speaking in a slow, +bewildered tone.</p> + +<p>"But, child, there is something the matter!" insisted Miss Hagar. "You +look as though you were crazed, and your face is stained with blood."</p> + +<p>"Is it? I had forgotten," said Celeste, pushing her hair vacantly off +her wounded forehead. "It is nothing at all, though. I do not feel it."</p> + +<p>"But how did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!—why, I was frightened, and ran, and fell," said Celeste, scarcely +knowing what she said.</p> + +<p>"What was it frightened you?" pursued Miss Hagar, wondering at her +strange manner.</p> + +<p>Celeste, without reply, sank upon a seat and pressed her hands to her +throbbing temples to collect her scat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>tered thoughts. She felt sick and +dizzy—unable to think and speak coherently. Her head ached with the +intensity of her emotions; and her eyes felt dry and burning. Her brow +was hot and feverish with such violent and unusual excitement. Her only +idea was to get away—to be alone—that she might collect her wandering +senses.</p> + +<p>"Miss Hagar," she said, rising, "I cannot tell you what has happened. I +must be alone to-night. To-morrow, perhaps, I will tell you all."</p> + +<p>"Any time you please, child," said Miss Hagar, kindly. "Go to your room +by all means. Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night!" said Celeste, taking her lamp and quitting the room.</p> + +<p>She staggered as she walked. On reaching her room she set the lamp on +the table, and entwined her arms above her head, which dropped heavily +upon it. Unaccustomed to excitement of any kind, she felt more as if +heart and brain were on fire. Loving Louis with the strong affection of +her loving heart, the sudden disclosure and jealous fury of Minnette +stunned and stupefied her for a time. So she lay for nearly an hour, +unable to think or realize what had happened—only conscious of a dull, +dreary pain at her heart. Then the mist slowly cleared away from her +mental vision—the fierce words of Minnette danced in red, lurid letters +before her eyes. She started to her feet, and paced her chamber wildly.</p> + +<p>"Oh! why am I doomed to make others miserable?" she cried, wringing her +hands. "Oh, Louis, Louis! why have you deceived me thus? What have I +done that I should suffer such misery? But it is wrong to complain. I +must not, will not murmur. I will not reproach him for what he has done, +but try to forget him. May he be as happy with Minnette as I would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> have +striven to render him! To-morrow I will see him, and return all the +gifts cherished for his sake; to-morrow I will bid him a last adieu; +to-morrow—but, oh! I cannot—I cannot!" she exclaimed, passionately. "I +cannot see him and bid him go. Oh, Father of the fatherless! aid me in +my anguish!"</p> + +<p>She fell on her knees by the bedside, and a wild, earnest prayer broke +from her tortured lips.</p> + +<p>By degrees she grew calm; her wild excitement died away; the scorching +heat left her brain, and blessed tears came to her aid. Long and +bitterly she wept; long and earnestly she prayed—no longer as one +without hope, but trustful and resigned, bending her meek head to the +blow of the chastening rod.</p> + +<p>She arose from her knees, pale, but calm and resigned.</p> + +<p>"I will not see him," she murmured. "Better for us both I should never +see him again! I will write—I will tell him all—and then all that is +past must be forgotten. In the creature I was forgetting the Creator; +for the worship of God I was substituting the worship of man; and my +Heavenly Father, tempering justice with mercy, has lifted me from the +gulf into which I was falling, and set me in the narrow way once more. +Henceforth, no earthly idol shall fill my heart; to Him alone shall it +be consecrated; and I will live on in the hope that there is yet 'balm +in Gilead' for me."</p> + +<p>It was very easy to speak thus, in the sudden reaction from despair to +joy—very easy to talk in this way in the excitement of the moment, +after her heart had been relieved by tears. She thought not of the weary +days and nights in the future, that would seem to have no end, when her +very soul would cry out in wild despair for that "earthly idol" again.</p> + +<p>And full of her resolution, with cheeks and eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> glowing with the light +of inspiration, she sat down at the table, and, drawing pen and paper +before her, began to write.</p> + +<p>A long, earnest, eloquent letter it was. She resigned him forever, +bidding him be happy with Minnette, and forget and forgive her, and +breathing the very soul of sisterly love and forgiveness. Page after +page was filled, while her cheek flushed deeper, and her eyes grew +brighter, and her pen flew on as if inspired.</p> + +<p>There, in the holy seclusion of her chamber, in the solemn stillness of +night, she made the total renunciation of him she loved best on earth, +scarcely feeling now she had lost him, in the lofty exaltation of her +feelings.</p> + +<p>It was finished at last. The pen dropped from her hand, and she arose to +seek for the few gifts he had ever given her. A little golden locket, +containing his likeness and a lock of his hair; her betrothal-ring; and +the oft-mentioned gold cross. That was all.</p> + +<p>She opened the likeness, and through all her heroism a wild, sharp +thrill of anguish pierced her heart, as she gazed on those calm, +beautiful features. The sable ring of hair twined itself round her +fingers as though unwilling to leave her; but resolutely she replaced +it, and drew off the plain gold circlet of their betrothal, and laid +them side by side. Then her cross—it had never left her neck since the +night he had placed it there. All the old tide of love swelled back to +her heart as she gazed upon it. It seemed like rending her very +heart-strings to take it off.</p> + +<p>"I cannot! I cannot!" was her anguished cry, as her arm dropped +powerless on the table.</p> + +<p>"You must! you must! it is your duty!" cried the stern voice of +conscience; and, with trembling fingers and blanched lips, the precious +token was removed and laid beside the others.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, sealing them up, with one last, agonizing look, such as we might +bestow on the face of a dear friend about to be consigned to the grave, +she sealed and directed the packet, and then threw herself on her bed +and pressed her hands over her eyes to hide out the face of her dead.</p> + +<p>But in spite of sorrow, sleep <i>will</i> visit the afflicted, and a bright +morning sunbeam fell like a halo on her pale face, calm in sleep, and on +the golden eyelashes, still wet with undried tear-drops.</p> + +<p>That same broad July sunbeam fell on Minnette lying prone on her face in +the damp pine woods, her long, black hair and dark garments dropping +with the soaking dew. The dark, lonely woods had been her couch the +livelong night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + +<h3>GIPSY HUNTS NEW GAME.</h3> + + +<div class="poemblock32"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And by the watch-fire's gleaming light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Close by his side was seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A huntress maid in beauty bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With airy robes of green."—<span class="smcap">Scott.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_i.png" alt="I" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +t was early afternoon of that same day on which the events related in +the last chapter occurred. Squire Erliston, in after-dinner mood, sat in +his arm-chair; Louis lay idly on a lounge at a little distance, and +Gipsy sat by the window, yawningly turning over a volume of prints. Mrs. +Oranmore, swathed in shawls, lounged on her sofa, her prayerbook in her +hand, taking a succession of short naps.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was the squire's custom to go to sleep after dinner; but now, in his +evident excitement, he seemed quite to forget it altogether.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," he was saying to Louis, "the scoundrel actually entered the +sheriff's house through the window, and carried off more than a hundred +dollars, right under their very noses. It's monstrous!—it's outrageous! +He deserves to be drawn and quartered for his villainy! And he will be, +too, if he's taken. The country 'll soon be overrun with just such +rascals, if the scoundrel isn't made an example of."</p> + +<p>"Of whom are you speaking, papa?" inquired Lizzie, suddenly walking up.</p> + +<p>"Of one of Drummond's negroes—a perfect ruffian; Big Tom, they call +him. He's fled to the woods, and only makes his appearance at night. He +stabbed young Drummond himself; and since then, he's committed all sorts +of depredations. Simms, the sheriff, came down yesterday with constables +to arrest them; and during the night, the scoundrel actually had the +audacity to enter the sheriff's window, and decamped with a hundred +dollars before they could take him. He met one of the constables in the +yard as he was going out. The constable cried 'murder,' and seized him; +but Big Tom—who is a regular giant—just lifted him up and hurled him +over the wall, where he fell upon a heap of stones, breaking his +collar-bone, two of his legs, 'and the rest of his ribs,' as Solomon +says. The constable's not expected to live; and Big Tom got off to his +den in safety with his booty."</p> + +<p>"Why do they not scour the woods in a body?" inquired Louis.</p> + +<p>"So they did; but—bless your soul!—it's like looking for a needle in a +hay-stack—couldn't find him anywhere."</p> + +<p>"Oh! it was capital fun!" said Gipsy, laughing, "it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> reminded me of +'hide-and-go-seek' more than anything else. Once or twice they caught +sight of me through the bushes, and taking me for poor Tom, came pretty +near firing on me. Simms made them stop, and called to me to surrender +to the law, or I'd repent it. Accordingly, I surrendered, and rode out, +and—my goodness!—if they didn't look blue when they saw me! I burst +right out laughing in their face, and made Simms so mad that I guess he +wished he had let his men shoot me. Oh! didn't I have a jolly time, +though! I took them, by various artifices, miles out of their +way—generally leaving them half-swamped in a bog, or in some pathless +part of the woods—until Simms lost all patience, and swore till he was +black in the face, and rode home in a towering passion, all covered with +mud, and his fine city clothes torn to tatters. Ha, ha, ha! I guess I +enjoyed it, if they didn't."</p> + +<p>"As mischievous as ever!" exclaimed the squire. "Pretty way, that, to +treat the officers of the law in the discharge of their duty! How will +you like it, if that black demon comes here some night, and murders us +all in our beds?"</p> + +<p>Lizzie uttered a stifled shriek at the idea.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I'll be glad of it, if he only murders Spider first, and so +save me the trouble," said Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"You're an affectionate wife, 'pon my word," muttered Louis.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but it's just like the diabolical young imp," growled the squire.</p> + +<p>"Thank you—you're complimentary," muttered Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Mind you," continued the squire, "while Big Tom's at liberty you must +leave off your rides through the woods and over the hills—because he +might be the death of you at any moment."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> + +<p>"More likely I'd be the death of him. I never was born to be killed by a +ruffian."</p> + +<p>"No; for if the gallows had its dues——"</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't be here to-day," interrupted Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Come—don't interrupt me, young woman. I positively forbid you or any +one in this place riding out while Big Tom's roaming about."</p> + +<p>"That's right, Guardy—show your authority. Nothing like keeping it up, +you know. And now, as I'm off to give Mignonne an airing, I'll think of +your commands by the way."</p> + +<p>And the disobedient elf arose to leave the room.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, tantalizing little coz, it really is dangerous," +interrupted Louis. "If you were to encounter this gigantic negro, alone, +it would be rather a serious affair, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"Bother!" exclaimed the polite and courteous Mrs. Wiseman. "Do you +s'pose I'm afraid—Gipsy Gower afraid! Whew! I like that! Make your mind +easy, my dear Louis. I could face a regiment on Mignonne's back without +flinching."</p> + +<p>And Gipsy darted off to don her riding-habit, singing as she went:</p> + +<div class="poemblock34"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Some love to roam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the dark sea foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the shrill winds whistle free;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But a chosen band<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the mountain land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a life in the woods for me."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Ten minutes afterward they saw her ride out of the court-yard at her +usual furious rate, and dash away over the hills, where she was speedily +out of sight.</p> + +<p>Gipsy must have had some of the Arab in her nature; for she spent almost +her whole life on horseback. She heeded not the flight of time, as she +thundered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> along, riding in the most hazardous places—sometimes +narrowly escaping being dashed to pieces over precipices—sometimes +leaping yawning chasms that would make many a stout hunter's head giddy. +The excitement was a part—a necessity—of her nature. The almost +stagnant life in the village would have driven the hot-headed, impetuous +girl wild, but for the mad excitement of the chase. Brave as a young +lioness—bold and free as the eagle of her native mountains—she scorned +fear, and sought danger as others do safety. She knew it was putting her +head into the lion's mouth to venture alone into this wild, unfrequented +region, within arm's length of a desperate villain, hunted down like a +furious beast; yet the idea of not venturing here never once entered her +mad little head.</p> + +<p>It was growing dark before Gipsy began to think of turning her steps +homeward. Reluctantly she turned her horse's head, and set out for Mount +Sunset—half regretting she had met with no adventure worth relating on +her return.</p> + +<p>As she rapidly galloped along she discovered she had ridden much farther +than she had intended, and that it would be late ere she reached the +hall. The dim starlight alone guided her path; for the moon had not yet +risen. But Mignonne was so well accustomed to the road that he could +have found his way in the dark; and Gipsy rode on gayly, humming to +herself a merry hunting-chorus.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a gleam of light from between the trees flashed across their +path. Mignonne, like his mistress, being only a half-tamed thing at +best, reared suddenly upright, and would have dashed off at headlong +speed, had not Gipsy held the reins with a grasp of iron. Her strength +was wonderful for a creature so small and slight; but her vigorous +exercise had given her thews<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> and muscles of steel. Mignonne felt he was +in the hand of a master-spirit, and after a few fierce bounds and +plunges, stood still and surrendered.</p> + +<p>Rapidly alighting, Gipsy bound her horse securely, and then stole +noiselessly through the trees. The cause of the light was soon +discovered; and Gipsy beheld a sight that, daring and fearless as she +was, for a moment froze the very blood in her veins.</p> + +<p>A small semicircle was before her, in the center of which the remains of +a fire still glowed, casting a hot, reddish glare around. By its lurid +light the huge figure of a gigantic negro, whose hideous face was now +frightfully convulsed with rage. On her knees at his feet was a woman, +whom he grasped with one hand by the throat, and with the other +brandished over her head a long, murderous knife. The sight for a moment +left Gipsy's eyes, and her very heart ceased beating. Then, with the +rapidity of lightning, she drew a pistol, aimed and fired.</p> + +<p>One second more and she would have been too late. With the shriek of a +madman the huge negro leaped into the air, and bounded to where she +stood. She turned to fly, but ere she had advanced a yard she was in the +furious grasp of the wounded monster. His red eyes were like balls of +fire, he foamed, he roared with rage and pain, as with one huge hand he +raised the slight form of Gipsy to dash out her brains.</p> + +<p>In that moment of deadly peril the brave girl was as cool and +self-possessed as though she were seated in safety in her guardian's +parlor. A gleaming knife was stuck in his belt. Quick as thought she +drew it out, and, concentrating all her strength, she plunged it in his +breast.</p> + +<p>The hot blood spurted in a gush up in her face. Without a cry the +ruffian reeled, his hand relaxed, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> Gipsy sprang from his grasp just +as he fell heavily to the ground.</p> + +<p>Gipsy staggered against a tree, with a deadly inclination to swoon +coming over her. She covered her face with her hands to hide the ghastly +form of the huge negro, lying weltering in his own blood before her. She +had taken a life; and though it was done in self-defense, and to save +the life of another, it lay on her heart like lead.</p> + +<p>The thought of that other at length aroused her to action. Darting +through the trees she approached the fire. The woman lay on the ground, +senseless, and half strangled. The firelight, as it fell upon her, +showed the face and form of an old woman, upward of fifty, poorly clad, +and garments half torn off in the scuffle.</p> + +<p>The sight restored Gipsy to her wonted composure. Kneeling down, she +began chafing the old woman's hands and temples with an energy that soon +restored her to consciousness. She opened her eyes and glared for a +moment wildly around; then, as consciousness returned, she uttered +shriek upon shriek, making the forest resound.</p> + +<p>"Stop your screaming," said Gipsy, shaking her in her excitement. +"You're safe enough now. Stop, will you. I tell you you're safe."</p> + +<p>"Safe!" repeated the woman, wildly. "Oh, that drefful nigger——"</p> + +<p>"He won't hurt you any more. Stop your noise, and get up, and come with +me!" said Gipsy, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Lor' a massey! I can't git up. I'm all out o' j'int. I'm dead +entirely!" groaned the woman.</p> + +<p>"Then I shall leave you here," said Gipsy, rising.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't leave me!—don't, for God's sake! I'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> die o' fear!" screamed +the woman, grasping Gipsy's dress.</p> + +<p>"Then, you stupid old thing, get up and come along," cried Gipsy, losing +all patience, as she seized her with no gentle hand, and pulled her to +her feet.</p> + +<p>"Where 'll I go?" said the poor old creature, trembling with mortal +terror, evidently as much afraid of the fierce little Amazon before her, +as of the huge negro.</p> + +<p>"This way," said Gipsy, pulling her along to where stood her horse. +"Now, get up there, and put your arms around my waist, and hold on for +your life."</p> + +<p>"Oh! dear me! I never rid a horseback in my life, and I'll fall off—I +know I will!" said the old woman, wringing her hands in fresh distress.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't help it; you'll have to make the attempt, or stay here +till I reach St. Mark's, and rouse up the people. Which will you do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! I dassent stay. I'll go 'long with you, somehow."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Up with you then," said Gipsy, almost lifting her into the +saddle. "Now, I'll get on before you, and mind, if you don't hold on +well, you'll never reach the village alive."</p> + +<p>With the clutch of mortal fear, the old lady grasped Gipsy round the +waist, and held on for dear life, until Mount Sunset was gained, when, +more dead than alive, she was assisted to alight, and consigned to the +care of the servants.</p> + +<p>Louis, who had just returned from his interview with Celeste, was in the +parlor with the squire, meditating how he should make his proposal, when +Gipsy, pale, wild, and disordered, her hair disheveled, and her garments +dyed with blood, burst in upon them, electrifying them with amazement.</p> + +<p>Great was their consternation as they listened to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> rapidly-told +tale. There was no time left to congratulate her on her narrow escape, +for she impetuously commanded Louis to mount immediately and take three +or four of the servants to bring away the body.</p> + +<p>With a rapidity almost as great as her own, her counsels were obeyed, +and Gipsy, with Louis beside her, started back to the scene of the +catastrophe, followed by four of the servants.</p> + +<p>They reached the spot at last, and Gipsy drew back in dismay as she +discovered the body was gone.</p> + +<p>"Who can have carried it off?" she exclaimed, aghast.</p> + +<p>"I rather think he has carried himself off," said Louis, who had been +attentively examining the ground.</p> + +<p>"Oh, impossible! He was dead, I tell you—just as <i>dead</i> as ever he +could be," said Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Well, dead or not, he has made his escape," said Louis. "See, the grass +is dyed with blood all along, showing the way he has gone. Come, the +trail is plain enough, let us follow it."</p> + +<p>All dismounted and followed Louis. Not far had they to go, for lying by +the fire was the burly form of the negro. He had evidently, with much +difficulty, dragged himself thus far, and then sank down exhausted.</p> + +<p>He rolled his glaring eyes fiercely on the faces bending over him, and +gnashed his teeth in impotent rage as he saw Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Thank God! I have not killed him!" was her first fervent ejaculation. +Then, while Louis and the servants began making a sort of litter, she +knelt beside him, and strove to stanch the flowing blood, undeterred by +the wild, ferocious glare of his fiery eyes.</p> + +<p>"Now, Tom, look here," said Gipsy, as she composedly went on with her +work, "there's no use in your looking daggers at me that way, because it +don't alarm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> me a bit. You needn't be mad at me either, for though I +fired on you first, it was to save the life of an old woman, who might +have been a loss to the world; and if I made use of your knife +afterward, it was to save the life of Mrs. Doctor Nicholas Wiseman, who +would have been a greater loss still. So you see I couldn't help myself, +and you may as well look at the matter in the same light."</p> + +<p>By this time the rest came back with a sort of litter; and groaning and +writhing with pain, the heavy form of the wounded giant was lifted on +their shoulders, and borne toward the village, where it was consigned to +the care of the sheriff, who was thunderstruck when he heard of Gipsy's +daring.</p> + +<p>On their return to Sunset Hall, they learned from the old woman, who +seemed threatened with a severe illness, how it had all occurred.</p> + +<p>She was a "poor, lone woman," she said—a widow, named Mrs. Donne, +living by herself for ten odd years, in a little cottage beyond St. +Mark's.</p> + +<p>She was reputed to be rich—a rumor she never contradicted, as it made +her neighbors treat her with distinction, in the hope that she would +remember them in her will.</p> + +<p>Big Tom, hearing the rumor, and believing it, came to her cottage, and +demanded money. She had none to give him, and told him so, which +exasperated him beyond measure. He threatened to kill her if she +persisted in refusing, and gagged her to stifle her cries. Then, finding +her still obstinate, he carried her off with him to the spot where Gipsy +had found them, and again offered her her life if she would deliver up +her money. Still she was forced to refuse, and maddened with rage and +disappointment, he was about to murder her, when Gipsy providentially +appeared, and saved her life.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> + +<p>Not without many interruptions was this story told; and ere it was +concluded, Mrs. Donne was in a high fever. Gipsy installed herself as +nurse, and listened in wonder and surprise to her raving of infants left +to perish in snow-storms, and her wild words of sorrow and remorse for +some past crime.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + +<h3>CELESTE'S TRIAL.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock30"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"This morn is merry June, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rose is budding fain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she shall bloom in winter snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere we two meet again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He turned his charger as he spoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the river shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave the reins a shake, and said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adieu forevermore,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">My love!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adieu forevermore."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p><span class="floatleft">"</span></p> +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_m.png" alt="M" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +arry Celeste Pearl!—a girl without a farthing! a beggar! a foundling! +I'm astonished, thunderstruck, <i>speechless</i>, sir, at your audacity in +proposing such a thing! I <i>have</i> objections, sir—most <i>de</i>-cided +objections, sir! Don't ever let me hear you mention such a thing again!"</p></div> + +<p>And Squire Erliston stamped up and down, red with rage and indignation.</p> + +<p>Louis stood with darkening brows, flashing eyes, and folded arms, before +him—outwardly quiet, but compres<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>sing his lips to keep down the fiery +tide of his rising passion.</p> + +<p>"What are your objections, sir?" he asked, with forced calmness.</p> + +<p>"Objections! Why, sir, there's so many objections that I can't enumerate +them. First place, she hasn't a cent; second, nobody knows who or what +she is; third, she'll never do for my granddaughter-in-law. Therefore, +sir, please drop the subject; I never want to hear anything more about +it—for I shouldn't consent if you were to plead on your knees. The +girl's a good girl enough in her place, but she won't do for the wife of +Louis Oranmore. What, sir, consent that you, the heir to the richest +landed estate this side the north pole, should marry a poor, unknown +beggar-girl, who has lived all her life on the charity of others! No, +sir, never!" said the squire, furiously, flinging himself into his +chair, and mopping his inflamed visage.</p> + +<p>The face of Louis was white with suppressed rage, and with an expression +of ungovernable anger, he burst from the room. In his fierce excitement +he saw not whither he went, until he ran full against Totty, who was +entering, with a letter in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Lor', Mas'r Lou, how you scare me! You like to knock me upside down. +Hi! here's a 'pistle for you, what Curly, old Miss Ager's gal, brought +over, an' told me her young Miss 'Sless sent you."</p> + +<p>"From Celeste," exclaimed Louis, snatching it from her hand and tearing +it open. His gifts fell to the floor; and scarcely able to believe his +senses, he read its contents—his brow growing darker and darker as he +read. He crushed it fiercely in his hand as he finished, and paced up +and down the long hall like a madman.</p> + +<p>"And such is woman's love!" he exclaimed, with a scornful laugh. "She +gives me up, and bids me be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> happy with Minnette. What drove that +jealous girl to love me; and to make Celeste believe I loved her first? +Everything seems to cross my path—this mad girl's passion, and my +grandfather's obstinate refusal. Well, she shall be mine, in spite of +fate. I will marry her privately, and take her with me to Italy. Yes, +that is the only plan. I will ride over to the cottage, and obtain her +consent; and then, let those I leave behind do as they will, my +happiness will be complete."</p> + +<p>So saying, he quitted the house, mounted his horse, and rode rapidly +toward the cottage.</p> + +<p>Celeste was in the garden, binding up a broken rose-bush—looking paler, +but lovelier than ever. She uttered a half-stifled cry as she saw him, +and the last trace of color faded from her face as he leaped from his +horse and stood beside her.</p> + +<p>"Celeste, what means this?" he demanded, impetuously. "Do you really +believe this tale told you by Minnette?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis, is it not true?" exclaimed Celeste, clasping her hands.</p> + +<p>"True! Celeste, Celeste! do you take me to be such a villain? As heaven +hears me, I never spoke a word of love to her in my life!"</p> + +<p>This was true in the letter, but not in the spirit. He had never +<i>spoken</i> of love to Minnette, but he had <i>looked</i> it often enough.</p> + +<p>"Thank heaven!" exclaimed Celeste, impulsively, while she bowed her face +in her hands and wept.</p> + +<p>"Dear Celeste," said Louis, drawing her gently toward him, "do you +retract those cruel words you have written? You will not give me up, +will you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! not <i>now</i>," replied Celeste, yielding to his embrace. "Oh, +Louis, what do you suppose made Minnette say such dreadful things to me +last night?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Because—I beg you will not think me conceited, dearest—she fancies +she loves me, and is jealous of you. Perhaps, too, she thinks if I did +not love you, I might return her affection; and the only way to end her +chimerical hopes is by our immediate union. Say, dear love, when will +you be mine?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis! I do not know," said Celeste, blushing scarlet. "I do not +want to be married so soon, and—you must ask your grandfather."</p> + +<p>"I have asked him, dearest."</p> + +<p>"And he——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Refused!</i> I knew it would be so. He is obstinate and eccentric. But, +Celeste, his refusal need make no difference to us."</p> + +<p>She raised her blue eyes to his face, with a look of unconcealed wonder.</p> + +<p>"We can be privately wedded, and I will take you with me to Europe, +where we will reside until I have succeeded in pacifying the squire with +my course."</p> + +<p>She stood before him, looking calmly and gravely in his face. His voice +was low, but full of passion, and he saw not that earnest, sorrowful +gaze.</p> + +<p>"Say, Celeste—dearest Celeste—do you consent?" he asked, his eyes +filled with fire, as he strove to clasp her. She shrank away, almost in +fear, and pushed back his hands.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis! don't, don't," she cried, sadly.</p> + +<p>"But you will consent? you will go with me?" he said, eagerly, +passionately.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no!—no, no! I cannot—it is impossible."</p> + +<p>"Impossible! <i>Why</i>, Celeste?"</p> + +<p>"It would be wrong."</p> + +<p>"Wrong! Because an old man objects to your want of fortune, it would be +wrong to marry me. Nonsense, Celeste!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It would be wrong to disobey your grandfather, Louis."</p> + +<p>"Not in a case like this, Celeste. I am not bound to obey him when he is +unreasonable."</p> + +<p>"He is not unreasonable in this, Louis. It is very reasonable he should +wish you to marry one your equal in wealth and social position."</p> + +<p>"And would <i>you</i> have me marry for wealth and social position, Celeste?" +he asked, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh! no, no! Heaven forbid! But I would not marry you against his will. +We can wait—a few years will not make much difference, dear Louis. We +are both young, and can afford to be patient."</p> + +<p>"Patience! Don't talk to me of patience!" he exclaimed, passionately. +"You never loved me; if you had you would not stand thus on a little +point of decorum. You are your own mistress—you have no parents to whom +you owe obedience; my mother is willing enough, and yet, because an old +man objects to your want of money, you stand there in your cold dignity, +and exhort me to be patient and wait. Celeste, I <i>will not</i> wait. You +<i>must</i> come with me to Italy!"</p> + +<p>But she only stood before him, pale and sad, but firm and unyielding.</p> + +<p>Long and eloquently he pleaded, passionately and vehemently he urged +her, but all in vain. She listened and answered by silence and tears, +but steadily and firmly refused to consent.</p> + +<p>"Well, Celeste, will you come?" he asked, at length, after a long and +earnest entreaty.</p> + +<p>"Louis, I cannot. Not even for your sake can I do what my conscience +tells me would be wrong. You say your grandfather has no right to +control you in your choice of a wife. It may be so; but even in that +case I would not marry you against his wishes. Perhaps I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> proud and +sinful; but, Louis, I could never enter a family who would not be +willing to receive me. Besides, my duty is here with Miss Hagar. If I +were to marry you, what would become of her, alone and childless. No, +Louis, I am not so utterly selfish and ungrateful. Do not urge me +further, as I see you are about to do, for my resolution is unalterable. +Yielding as my nature naturally is, I can be firm at times; and in this +case, nothing that you can say will alter my determination."</p> + +<p>He stood erect before her, his fine face clouded with anger and +mortification.</p> + +<p>"This, then, is your last resolve?" he said, coldly.</p> + +<p>"It is. Dear Louis, forgive me if I have caused you pain. Believe me, it +has grieved me deeply to be obliged to speak thus," she said, laying her +hand upon his arm, and looking up pleadingly, sorrowfully, in his face.</p> + +<p>"Oh! do not trouble yourself about grieving me, fair Celeste," he said, +scornfully; "the glamour has faded from my eyes, that is all. I fancied +you little less than an angel. I was fool enough to believe you loved me +well enough to brave even the opinion of the world for my sake. I find +you are only a woman, after all, with more pride and ambition than love +for me. Well, be it so. I have never sued for the favor of any one yet, +and cannot begin now. Farewell, Celeste; forgive me for trespassing thus +long upon your time, but it will be long before it happens again."</p> + +<p>He turned away with a haughty bow. She saw he was angry, disappointed +and deeply mortified, and tears sprang to her gentle eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis!" was all she could say, as sobs choked her utterance.</p> + +<p>He turned round and stood gazing coldly upon her.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Pearl," he said, calmly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis! <i>dear</i> Louis! forgive me! do not be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> angry with your +Celeste. Oh, Louis! I am sorry I have offended you."</p> + +<p>"I am not angry, Miss Pearl; only a little disappointed. You have a +perfect right to reject me if you choose. My only regret is that I +should have troubled you so long. I have the honor to wish you +good-day."</p> + +<p>And with the last bitter words he sprang on his horse, and in a few +minutes was out of sight.</p> + +<p>All Celeste's fortitude gave way then; and sinking on a seat, she hid +her face in her hands and wept the bitterest tears she had ever shed in +her life. Louis was gone, and in anger, believing her proud, artful, and +fickle—perhaps he would love her no more; and her bosom heaved with +convulsive sobs at the thought.</p> + +<p>All that day and the next, and the next, Louis came not. How wearily the +hours dragged on while she sat listening in vain for his coming. Taking +her work, she would sit by the window commanding a view of the road, and +strain her eyes in the fruitless endeavor to catch a glimpse of his +tall, elegant figure. At every noise she would start convulsively, and a +wild thrill would dart through her heart, in the hope that it might be +his footsteps. Then sinking back disappointed, she would close her eyes +to force back the gathering tears, and strive to keep down the choking +sensation that would arise to her throat. And when night fell, and still +he came not, unable longer to restrain herself, she would hastily seek +her own chamber, and weep and sob until, utterly prostrated in mind and +body, the morning would find her pale, ill, and languid, with slow step +and heavy, dimmed eyes.</p> + +<p>The morning of the fourth day came, and this suspense was growing +intolerable. Breakfast had passed untasted, and suffering with a dull, +throbbing headache, she was about to quit the room, when the sound of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +horse's hoofs thundering down the road made her leap to her feet with a +wild thrill of joy that sent new light to her, eyes and new color to her +cheeks.</p> + +<p>"He is come! he is come!" she exclaimed, rushing to the door. A cry of +disappointment almost escaped her, as her eye fell on Gipsy in the act +of dismounting.</p> + +<p>"Here I am, all alive, like a bag of grasshoppers," exclaimed Gipsy, as, +gathering her riding-habit in her hand, she tripped with her usual airy +motion up the garden walk. "How have you been this age, Celeste? My +stars! how pale you are; have you been ill?"</p> + +<p>"I have not been very well for the past week," said Celeste, forcing a +smile. "I am very glad to see you. Come in."</p> + +<p>Gipsy entered; and having saluted Miss Hagar, threw herself into a +chair, and snatching off her hat, began swinging it by the strings. +Celeste took her sewing and seated herself by the window.</p> + +<p>"Well, I declare! we have had such times up at the Hall this week," said +Gipsy. "Have you heard how I captured Big Tom?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Celeste, in surprise; whereupon Gipsy related what had +occurred, ending with:</p> + +<p>"Old Mrs. Donne is still very sick, and raves at an appalling rate about +babies, and snow-storms, and all such stuff. Big Tom's in prison, +rapidly recovering from his wounds, which is good news for me; for I +should be sorry to think I had killed the poor wretch. I should have +come over to see you sooner, only Louis is going away, and we've all +been as busy as nailers."</p> + +<p>"Going away!" echoed Celeste, growing deadly pale.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he leaves here to-morrow morning. He is going to Italy, and will +not be back for several years.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> But, my goodness! Celeste, what's the +matter? You look as though you were going to faint!"</p> + +<p>"It's nothing—only a sudden spasm," said Celeste, in a low, smothered +voice, dropping her forehead on her hand, while her long, golden +ringlets, falling like a vail over her face, hid it from view.</p> + +<p>"The notion took him so suddenly," continued Gipsy, "that we have +scarcely begun to recover from our astonishment yet. It's no use trying +to coax him not to go, for he puts on that iron face of his, and says, +'the thing's decided.' Men of genius always are a queer crotchety set, +they say. Thank Minerva, I'm not a genius, anyway—one of that sort's +enough in any family. Minnette, too, went off the other day with the +Carsons for Washington—good riddance of bad rubbish, I say. So, when +Louis goes, I'll be alone in my glory, and you must come over and spend +a few days with me. Won't you, Celeste?"</p> + +<p>There was no reply. Gipsy gazed in wonder and alarm at her, as she sat +still and motionless as a figure in marble.</p> + +<p>"Celeste! Celeste! what's the matter?" she said, going over and trying +to raise her head. "Are you sick, or fainting, or what?"</p> + +<p>Celeste looked up, and Gipsy started back as she saw that white, +despairing face, and wild, anguished eyes.</p> + +<p>"You are ill, Celeste," she said, in alarm. "Your hands are like ice, +and your face is cold as death. Come, let me assist you to your room."</p> + +<p>"Thank you—I will go myself. I will be better, if let alone," said +Celeste, faintly, as she arose to her feet, and, sick and giddy, +tottered rather than walked from the room.</p> + +<p>Gipsy looked after her, perplexed and anxious.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I'd like to know what all this is about,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> she muttered to +herself. "Wonder if Louis' departure has anything to do with it? They've +had a quarrel, I suppose, and Louis is going off in a huff. Well, it's +none of my business, anyway, so I sha'n't interfere. Louis looked as if +he'd like to murder me when I asked him what he was going to do without +Celeste, and walked off without ever deigning to answer me. But I guess +I ain't afraid of him; and if he hasn't behaved well to poor Celeste, +I'll tell him a piece of my mind anyway before he goes." And the +soliloquizing Gipsy left the house and rode thoughtfully homeward.</p> + +<p>During the rest of that day and night Celeste did not leave her room. +Miss Hagar grew anxious, and several times came to her door to beg +admittance, but the low voice within always said:</p> + +<p>"No, no; not now, I will be better to-morrow—only leave me alone."</p> + +<p>And, troubled and perplexed, Miss Hagar was forced to yield. Many times +she approached the chamber door to listen, but all within was still as +death—not the faintest sound reached her ear.</p> + +<p>"Has Miss Celeste left her room yet?" inquired Miss Hagar, the following +morning, of her sable handmaid, Curly.</p> + +<p>"Laws! yes, missus; she comed outen her room 'fore de sun riz dis +mornin': an' I 'clare to goodness! I like to drop when I seed her. She +was jes' as pale as a ghos', wid her eyes sunken right in like, an' +lookin' drefful sick. She'd on her bunnit and shawl, and tole me to tell +you she war agoin' out for a walk. 'Deed, she needed a walk, honey, for +her face was jes' as white as dat ar table-cloff."</p> + +<p>"Where was she going?" inquired Miss Hagar, alarmed.</p> + +<p>"'Deed, I didn't mind to ax her, 'cause she 'peared in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> 'stress o' mind +'bout somefin or udder. I looked arter her, dough, an' seed her take de +road down to de shore," replied Curly.</p> + +<p>Still more perplexed and troubled by this strange and most unusual +conduct on the part of Celeste, Miss Hagar seated herself at the +breakfast-table, having vainly waited an hour past the usual time for +the return of the young girl.</p> + +<p>When Celeste left the cottage, it was with a mind filled with but one +idea—that of seeing Louis once more before he left. But few people were +abroad when she passed through the village; and descending to the beach, +she seated herself behind a projecting rock, where, unseen herself, she +could behold him going away.</p> + +<p>Out on the glittering waves, dancing in the first rays of the morning +sunlight, lay a schooner, rising and falling lazily on the swell. It was +the vessel in which Gipsy had told her Louis was to leave St. Mark's, +and Celeste gazed upon it, with that passionate, straining gaze, with +which one might look on a coffin, where the one we love best is about to +be laid. Hours passed on, but she heeded them not, as, seated on a low +rock, with her hands clasped over her knees, she waited for his coming.</p> + +<p>After the lapse of some time, a boat put off from the schooner, and, +propelled by the strong arms of four sailors, soon touched shore. Three +of them landed, and took the road leading to Mount Sunset. Half an hour +passed, and they reappeared, laden with trunks and valises, and followed +by Louis and Gipsy.</p> + +<p>He seemed careless, even gay, while Gipsy wore a sad, troubled look, all +unused to her. Little did either of them dream of the wild, despairing +eyes watching them, as if her very life were concentrated in that +agonizing gaze.</p> + +<p>"Well, good-bye, <i>ma belle</i>," said Louis, with a last em<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>brace. "You +perceive my boat is on the shore, and my bark is on the sea, and I must +away."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," repeated Gipsy, mechanically.</p> + +<p>He turned away and walked toward the boat, entered it, and the seamen +pushed off. Gipsy stood gazing after his tall, graceful form until the +boat reached the schooner, and he ascended the deck. Then it danced away +in the fresh morning breeze down the bay, until it became a mere speck +in the distance, and then faded altogether from view.</p> + +<p>Dashing away a tear, Gipsy turned to ascend the rocks, when the flutter +of a muslin dress from behind a cliff caught her eye. With a vague +presentiment flashing across her mind, she approached to see who it was. +And there she beheld Celeste, lying cold and senseless on the sand.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> + +<h3>"THE QUEEN OF SONG."</h3> + +<div class="poemblock32"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Give me the boon of love—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Renown is but a breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose loudest echo ever floats<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From out the halls of death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A loving eye beguiles me more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than Fame's emblazon'd seal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one sweet note of tenderness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than triumph's wildest peal."—<span class="smcap">Tuckerman.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p><span class="floatleft">"</span></p> +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_o.png" alt="O" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +ranmore, my dear fellow, welcome back to Italy!" exclaimed a +distinguished-looking man, as Louis—the day after his arrival in +Venice—was passing through one of the picturesque streets of that +"palace-crowned city."</p></div> + +<p>"Ah, Lugari! happy to see you!" said Louis, extending his hand, which +was cordially grasped.</p> + +<p>"When did you arrive?" asked the Italian, as, linking his arm through +that of Louis, they strolled toward the "Bridge of the Rialto."</p> + +<p>"Only yesterday. My longings for Venice were too strong to be resisted; +so I returned."</p> + +<p>"Then you have not heard our 'Queen of Song' yet?" inquired his +companion.</p> + +<p>"No. Who is she?"</p> + +<p>"An angel! a seraph! the loveliest woman you ever beheld!—sings like a +nightingale, and has everybody raving about her!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed! And what is the name of this paragon?"</p> + +<p>"She is called Madame Evelini—a widow, I believe—English or American +by birth. She came here as poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> as Job and as proud as Lucifer. Now, +she has made a fortune on the stage; but is as proud as ever. Half the +men at Venice are sighing at her feet; but no icicle ever was colder +than she—it is impossible to warm her into love. There was an English +duke here not long ago, who—with reverence be it spoken!—had more +money than brains, and actually went so far as to propose marriage; and, +to the amazement of himself and everybody else, was most decidedly and +emphatically rejected."</p> + +<p>"A wonderful woman, indeed, to reject a ducal crown. When does she +sing?"</p> + +<p>"To-night. You must come with me and hear her."</p> + +<p>"With pleasure. Look, Lugari—what a magnificent woman that is!"</p> + +<p>"By St. Peter! it's the very woman we are speaking of—Madame Evelini +herself!" exclaimed Lugari. "Come, we'll join her. I have the pleasure +of her acquaintance. Take a good look at her first, and tell me if she +does not justify my praises."</p> + +<p>Louis, with some curiosity, scrutinized the lady they were approaching. +She was about the middle height, with an exquisitely-proportioned +figure—a small, fair, but somewhat melancholy face, shaded by a +profusion of pale-brown ringlets. Her complexion was exquisitely fair, +with dark-blue eyes and beautifully chiseled features. As he gazed, a +strange, vague feeling, that he had seen that face somewhere before, +flashed across his mind.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you think of her?" said Lugari, rousing him from a +reverie into which he was falling.</p> + +<p>"That she is a very lovely woman—there can be but one opinion about +that."</p> + +<p>"How old would you take her to be?"</p> + +<p>"About twenty, or twenty-three at the most."</p> + +<p>"Phew! she's over thirty."</p> + +<p>"Oh, impossible!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fact, sir; I had it from her own lips. Now, I'll present you; but take +care of your heart, my boy—few men can resist the fascinations of the +Queen of Song."</p> + +<p>"I have a counter-charm," said Louis, with a cold smile.</p> + +<p>"The memory of some fairer face in America, I suppose. Well, we shall +see. Good-morning, Madame Evelini," he said, acknowledging that lady's +salutation. "Charming day. Allow me to present to you my friend Mr. +Oranmore."</p> + +<p>From the first moment the lady's eyes had fallen on the face of Louis, +she had gazed as if fascinated. Every trace of color slowly faded from +her face, leaving her cold and pale as marble. As his name was uttered +she reeled, as if she were faint, and grasped the arm of Lugari for +support.</p> + +<p>"<i>Whom</i> did you say?" she asked, in a breathless voice.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Oranmore, a young American," replied Lugari, looking in amazement +from the lady to Louis—who, quite as much amazed as himself, stood +gazing upon her, lost in wonder.</p> + +<p>"Oranmore!" she exclaimed, unheeding their looks—"Oranmore! Surely not +Barry Oranmore?"</p> + +<p>"That was my father's name," replied the astonished Louis.</p> + +<p>A low cry broke from the white lips of the lady, as her hands flew up +and covered her face. Lugari and Louis gazed in each other's faces in +consternation. She dropped her hands at last, and said, in a low, +hurried voice:</p> + +<p>"Excuse this agitation, Mr. Oranmore. Can I have the pleasure of a +private interview with you?"</p> + +<p>"Assuredly, madam," said the astonished Louis.</p> + +<p>"Well, call at my residence in the Palazzo B——, this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> afternoon. And +now I must ask you to excuse me, gentlemen. Good-morning."</p> + +<p>She hurried away, leaving the two young men overwhelmed with amazement.</p> + +<p>"What the deuce does this mean?" said Lugari.</p> + +<p>"That's more than I can tell. I'm as much in the dark as you are."</p> + +<p>"She cannot have fallen in love with him already," said Lugari, in the +musing tone of one speaking to himself.</p> + +<p>Louis laughed.</p> + +<p>"Hardly, I think. I cannot expect to succeed where a royal duke failed."</p> + +<p>"There's no accounting for a woman's whims; and he's confoundedly +good-looking," went on Lugari, in the same meditative tone.</p> + +<p>"Come, Antonio, none of your nonsense," said Louis. "Come with me to my +studio, and spend the morning with me. It will help to pass the time +until the hour for calling on her ladyship."</p> + +<p>They soon reached the residence of the artist. The door was opened for +them by a boy of such singular beauty, that Lugari stared at him in +surprise and admiration. His short, crisp, black curls fell over a brow +of snowy whiteness, and his pale face looked paler in contrast with his +large, melancholy, black eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, Isadore," said Louis kindly, "has there been any one here since?"</p> + +<p>"No, signor," replied the boy, dropping his eyes, while a faint color +rose to his cheek, as he met the penetrating gaze of the stranger.</p> + +<p>"That will do, then. Bring wine and cigars, and leave us."</p> + +<p>The boy did as directed, and hurried from the room.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Handsome lad, that," said Lugari, carelessly. "Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"Isadore something—I forget what. He <i>is</i>, as you say, remarkably +handsome."</p> + +<p>"He is not a Venetian?"</p> + +<p>"No; English, I believe. I met him in Naples, friendless and nearly +destitute, and took charge of him. Have a glass of wine?"</p> + +<p>Lugari looked keenly in the face of his friend with a peculiar smile, +that seemed to say: "Yes—I understand it perfectly;" but Louis, busy in +lighting a cigar, did not observe him.</p> + +<p>The morning passed rapidly away in gay conversation; and at the hour +appointed, Louis sat in one of the magnificent rooms of the Palazzo +B——, awaiting the entrance of the singer.</p> + +<p>She soon made her appearance, quite bewitching in blue silk, but looking +paler, he thought, than when he had seen her in the morning.</p> + +<p>"I see you are punctual," she said, holding out her hand, with a slight +smile. "Doubtless you are at your wits' end trying to account for my +singular conduct."</p> + +<p>"My only wonder is, madam, how I could have merited so great an honor."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I knew you would say something like that," said the lady. +"Insincere, like the rest of your sex. Well, you shall not be kept long +in suspense. I have sent for you here to tell you my history."</p> + +<p>"Madam!" exclaimed Louis, in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes, even so. It concerns you more nearly, perhaps, than you think. +Listen, now."</p> + +<p>She leaned her head in her hand, and, for a moment, seemed lost in +thought; while Louis, with eager curiosity, waited for her to begin.</p> + +<p>"I am Irish by birth," she said, at last, looking up;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> "I was born in +Galway. My father was a poor farmer, and I was his only child. I grew up +a wild, untutored country girl; and reached the age of fifteen, knowing +sorrow and trouble only by name.</p> + +<p>"My occupation, sometimes, was watching my father's sheep on the +mountain. One day, as I sat merrily singing to myself, a horseman, +attracted by my voice, rode up and accosted me. I was bold and fearless, +and entered into conversation with him as if I had known him all my +life—told him my name and residence; and learned, in return, that he +was a young American of respectable and wealthy connections, who had +visited Galway to see a friend.</p> + +<p>"From that day forth, he was constantly with me; and I soon learned to +watch for his coming as I had never watched for any one before. He was +rash, daring, and passionate; and, captivated by my beauty (for I <i>was</i> +handsome then), he urged me to marry him privately, and fly with him. I +had never learned to control myself in anything; and loving him with a +passion that has never yet died out, I consented. I fled with him to +England. There we were secretly wedded. He took me to France, where we +remained almost a year—a year of bliss to me. Then he received letters +demanding his immediate presence in America. He would have left me +behind him, and returned for me again; but I refused to leave him; I +therefore accompanied him to his native land, and a few weeks after—one +stormy Christmas Eve—my child, a daughter, was born.</p> + +<p>"I never saw it but once. The nurse must have drugged me—for I have a +dim recollection of a long, long sleep, that seemed endless; and when I +awoke, I found myself in a strange room with the face of a strange woman +bending over me. To my wild, bewildered inquiries, she answered, that I +had been very ill, and my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> life despaired of for several weeks; but that +I was now recovering. I asked for my husband and child. She knew nothing +of them, she said. I had been brought there in a carriage, after night, +by a man whose features she could not recognize—he was so muffled up. +He had paid her liberally for taking charge of me, and promised to +return to see me in a few weeks.</p> + +<p>"I was a child in years and wisdom, and suspected nothing. I felt angry +at his desertion, and cried like the petted child I was, at his absence. +The woman was very kind to me, though I saw she looked upon me with a +sort of contempt, the reason of which I did not then understand. Still, +she took good care of me, and in a fortnight I was as well as ever.</p> + +<p>"One evening, I sat in my room silent and alone (for <i>I</i> was not +permitted to go out), and crying like a spoiled baby, when the sound of +a well-known voice reached my ear from the adjoining room. With a cry of +joy, I sprang to my feet, rushed from the room, and fell into the arms +of my husband. In my joy at meeting him, I did not perceive, at first, +the change those few weeks had made in him. He was pale and haggard, and +there was an unaccountable something in his manner that puzzled me. He +was not less affectionate; but he seemed wild, and restless, and ill at +ease.</p> + +<p>"My first inquiry was for my child.</p> + +<p>"'It is dead, Eveleen,' he answered, hurriedly; 'and you were so ill +that it became necessary to bring you here. Now that you are better, you +must leave this and come with me.'</p> + +<p>"'And you will publicly proclaim our marriage, and we will not be +separated more?' I eagerly inquired.</p> + +<p>"He made no answer, save to urge me to make haste. In a few moments I +was ready; a carriage at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> door. He handed me in, then followed, and +we drove rapidly away.</p> + +<p>"'Where are we going?' I asked, as we drove along.</p> + +<p>"'Back to Ireland; you are always wishing to return.'</p> + +<p>"'But you will go with me, will you not?' I asked, in vague alarm.</p> + +<p>"'Yes, yes; to be sure,' he answered, quickly. Just then, the murmur of +the sea reached my ear; the carriage stopped, and my husband assisted me +out.</p> + +<p>"A boat was in waiting on the shore. We both entered, and were rowed to +the vessel lying in the harbor. I reached the deck, and was conducted +below to a well-furnished cabin.</p> + +<p>"'Now, Eveleen, you look fatigued and must retire to rest. I am going on +deck to join the captain for a few hours,' said my husband, as he gently +kissed my brow. His voice was low and agitated, and I could see his face +was deadly pale. Still, no suspicion of the truth entered my mind. I +was, indeed, tired; and wearily disengaging myself from the arms that +clasped me in a parting embrace, I threw myself on my bed, and in a few +minutes was fast asleep. My husband turned away and went on deck, and—I +never saw him more."</p> + +<p>Her voice failed, and her lips quivered; but after a few moments she +went on.</p> + +<p>"The next morning the captain entered the cabin and handed me a letter. +I opened it in surprise. A draft for five thousand dollars fell out, but +I saw it not; my eyes were fixed in unspeakable horror on the dreadful +words before me.</p> + +<p>"The letter was from my husband. He told me that we were parted forever, +that he had wedded another bride, and that the vessel I was in would +convey me home, where he hoped I would forget him, and look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> upon the +past year only as a dream. I read that terrible letter from beginning to +end, while every word burned into my heart and brain like fire. I did +not faint nor shriek; I was of too sanguine a temperament to do either; +but I sat in stupefied despair; I was stunned; I could not realize what +had happened. The captain brought me a newspaper, and showed me the +announcement of his marriage to some great beauty and heiress—some Miss +Erliston, who——"</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed Louis, springing fiercely to his feet. "In the name of +heaven, of whom have you been talking all this time?"</p> + +<p>"Of my husband—of your father—of Barry Oranmore!"</p> + +<p>He staggered into his seat, horror-stricken and deadly white. There was +a pause, then he said, hoarsely:</p> + +<p>"Go on."</p> + +<p>"I know not how that voyage passed—it is all like a dream to me. I +reached Liverpool. The captain, who had been well paid, had me conveyed +home; and still I lived and moved like one who lives not. I was in a +stupor of despair, and months passed away before I recovered; when I +did, all my childishness had passed away, and I was in heart and mind a +woman.</p> + +<p>"Time passed on. I had read in an American paper the announcement of my +false husband's dreadful death. Years blunted the poignancy of my grief, +and I began to tire of my aimless life. He had often told me my voice +would make my fortune on the stage. Acting on this hint, I went to +London, had it cultivated, and learned music. At last, after years of +unremitting application, I made my <i>debut</i>. It was a triumph, and every +fresh attempt crowned me with new laurels. I next visited France; then I +came here; and here I have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> ever since. To-day, when I beheld you, +the very image of your father as I knew him first, I almost imagined the +grave had given up its dead. Such is my story—every word true, as +heaven hears me. Was I not right, when I said it concerned you more +nearly than you imagined?"</p> + +<p>"Good Heaven! And was my father such a villain?" said Louis, with a +groan.</p> + +<p>"Hush! Speak no ill of the dead. I forgave him long ago, and surely you +can do so too."</p> + +<p>"Heaven help us all! what a world we live in!" said Louis, while, with a +pang of remorse, his thoughts reverted to Celeste; and he inwardly +thought how similar her fate might have been, had she consented to go +with him.</p> + +<p>"And was your child really dead?" he inquired, after a pause, during +which she sat with her eyes fixed sadly on the floor. "He may have +deceived you in that as in other things."</p> + +<p>"I know not," she answered; "yet I have always had a sort of +presentiment that it still lives. Oh, if heaven would but permit me to +behold her alive, I could die happy!"</p> + +<p>Louis sat gazing upon her with a puzzled look.</p> + +<p>"I know not how it is," he said, "but you remind me strangely of some +one I have seen before. I recognize your face, vaguely and indistinctly, +as one does faces they see in dreams. I am <i>sure</i> I have seen some one +resembling you elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"Only fancy, I fear," said the lady, smiling, and shaking her head. "Do +you intend hearing me sing to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, decidedly! Do you think I would miss what one might make a +pilgrimage round the world to hear once?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Flattery! flattery! I see you are like all the rest," said Madame +Evelini, raising her finger reprovingly.</p> + +<p>"Not so, madam; I never flatter. And now I regret that a previous +engagement renders it necessary for me to leave you," said Louis, taking +his hat and rising to leave.</p> + +<p>"Well, I shall expect to see you soon again," she said, with an +enchanting smile; and Louis, having bowed assent, left the house; and, +giddy and bewildered by what he had just heard, turned in the direction +of his own residence.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> + +<h3>A STARTLING DISCOVERY.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock34"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Fixed was her look and stern her air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back from her shoulders streamed her hair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her figure seemed to rise more high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her voice, Despair's wild energy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had given a tone of prophecy."—<span class="smcap">Marmion.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_w.png" alt="W" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +eeks passed away. Louis became a daily visitor at the Palazzo B——. +His growing intimacy with the beautiful "Queen of Song" was looked upon +with jealous eyes by her numerous admirers; and many were the rumors +circulated regarding her affection for the handsome young American. But +Madame Evelini was either too proud or too indifferent to heed these +reports, and visited Louis in his studio whenever she pleased, leaving +the world to say of her what it listed. Louis, too, was winning fame as +an artist, and, next to madame her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>self, was becoming one of the +greatest celebrities in Venice.</p></div> + +<p>"What a handsome boy that attendant of yours is!" said the lady, one +day, to Louis, as Isadore quitted the room; "all who visit you vie with +each other in their praises of his beauty."</p> + +<p>"Who? Isadore? Yes, he is handsome; but a most singular youth—silent, +taciturn, at times almost fierce, and at others, sullenly morose."</p> + +<p>"He seems to have a strong antipathy to ladies, and to me in +particular," said Madame Evelini; "he looks as if he wished to shut the +door in my face every time I come here."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is another of his oddities; in fact, he is quite an +unaccountable lad."</p> + +<p>"He is very much attached to <i>you</i>, at all events. If he were a woman, I +should say he is in love with you, and jealous of the rest of us," said +madame, laughing. "As it is, it can only be accounted for by ill-nature +on his part. Well, adieu!" said madame, rising to take her leave.</p> + +<p>Louis soon had a most convincing proof of the lad's attachment. Being +detained one evening, by some business, in one of the narrow courts +inhabited by the lower class in Venice, he returned with a violent +headache. He grew worse so rapidly, that before night he was in a high +fever, raving deliriously.</p> + +<p>A physician was sent for, who pronounced it to be a dangerous and most +infectious fever, and advised his immediate removal to a hospital, where +he might receive better attendance than he could in his lodgings. But +Isadore positively refused to have him removed, vehemently asserting +that he himself was quite competent to take care of him.</p> + +<p>And well did he redeem his word. No mother ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> nursed her sick child +with more tender care than he did Louis. Night and day he was ever by +his side, bathing his burning brow, or holding a cooling draught to his +feverish lips. And though his pale face grew paler day after day, and +his lustrous black eyes lost their brightness with his weary vigils, +nothing could tempt him from that sick room. With womanly care, he +arranged the pillows beneath the restless head of the invalid; drew the +curtains to exclude the glaring light, totally unheeding the danger of +contagion. With jealous vigilance, too, he kept out all strangers. +Madame Evelini, upon hearing of her friend's illness, immediately came +to see him, but she was met in the outer room by Isadore, who said, +coldly:</p> + +<p>"You cannot see him, madame; the physician has forbidden it."</p> + +<p>"But only for one moment. I will not speak to him, or disturb him," +pleaded Madame Evelini.</p> + +<p>"No; you cannot enter. It is impossible," said Isadore, as he turned and +left the room, fairly shutting the door in her face.</p> + +<p>In his wild delirium, Louis talked incessantly of Celeste, and urged her +with passionate vehemence to fly with him. At such times, the dark brow +of Isadore would knit, and his eyes flash with smoldering fire beneath +their lids. But if his own name was mentioned, his beautiful face would +light up with such a radiant look of light and joy, that he seemed +recompensed for all his weary watching and unceasing care.</p> + +<p>At length, a naturally strong constitution, and the tender nursing of +Isadore triumphed over disease, and Louis became convalescent. And then +he began to realize all he owed to the boy who had been his +guardian-angel during his illness.</p> + +<p>"How can I ever repay you, Isadore?" he said, one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> day, as the youth +hovered by his side, smoothing the tossed pillows, and arranging the +bed-clothes with a skill few nurses could have surpassed.</p> + +<p>"I wish for no return, signor. I am only too happy to have been of +service to you," said the boy, dropping his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, at least, you will find I am not ungrateful. Once I am well, you +shall no longer remain a servant. I will place you in a fair way to make +your fortune," said Louis.</p> + +<p>"Signor, I beg you will not think of such a thing. I have no wish to +leave you," said Isadore, in alarm.</p> + +<p>"But with me you will only be an obscure servant, while it is in my +power to place you in a situation to become honored and wealthy."</p> + +<p>"I would rather remain with you."</p> + +<p>"Strange boy! Why are you so anxious to stay with me?"</p> + +<p>"Because——"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Because I love you, Signor," said the boy, while his whole face, a +moment before so pale, grew vivid crimson.</p> + +<p>Louis looked at him in surprise.</p> + +<p>"And what have I done for you, that you should love me so?" he asked, at +length.</p> + +<p>"Do we only love those who have conferred favors upon us, Signor?"</p> + +<p>"Well, generally speaking, among men it is so. If you were a woman, now, +it would be different," said Louis, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Would you love me, if I were a woman?" asked the boy, in a tone so +abrupt and startling, that Louis gazed at him in wonder.</p> + +<p>"Not more than I do now. One cannot <i>love</i> two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> women at a time, as you +will find out when you grow older."</p> + +<p>"Then the signor is already in love?" asked Isadore, raising his dark +eyes, now filled with dusky fire.</p> + +<p>There was no reply. Louis turned aside restlessly, so that the boy could +not see the expression of his face. And Isadore, paler than before, +seated himself in silence, and fixed his burning black eyes steadily on +the ground.</p> + +<p>Louis now rapidly recovered, and in a short time was able to resume his +duties. During his first interview with Madame Evelini, she related the +scene that had taken place between her and Isadore.</p> + +<p>"His motive in keeping me out was certainly other than the physician's +commands," she said. "In fact, my dear Louis, I should not be surprised +if your Isadore should turn out to be a female in disguise. His conduct +savors so strongly of jealousy that I more than half suspect him. Some +fiery Italian might have conceived a romantic passion for you, and taken +this means of following you. Those hot-blooded Venetians will do such +things sometimes."</p> + +<p>The words were lightly spoken, but they set Louis to thinking. What if +they were true? A number of things, trifling in themselves, rushed on +his mind, tending to confirm this opinion. He started up, seized his +hat, bade madame a hasty farewell, and started for home, fully resolved +to discover immediately whether or not her words were true.</p> + +<p>On entering, he found Isadore standing with folded arms, gazing with +eyes almost fiendish with hate upon a picture on the easel. It was the +portrait of Celeste as a child, standing as when he first beheld her +caressing her wounded bird. No words can describe the look of fierce +hatred with which the boy regarded it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, Isadore, you seem struck by that painting. Did you ever see a +sweeter face?" asked Louis, pointing to Celeste, but keeping his eyes +fixed steadily on the face of the boy.</p> + +<p>"Do you love her?" asked Isadore, hoarsely, without looking up.</p> + +<p>"Yes, with my whole heart and soul!" replied Louis, fervently.</p> + +<p>"Ungrateful wretch!" cried the youth, in a voice of intense passion; and +lifting his head, he disclosed a face so pale, and eyes so full of fire, +that Louis started back. "Was it for this that I left home, and country, +and friends, that I assumed a disguise like this to follow you? Was it +for such a turn as this I risked my life for yours? Was it for words +like these I cast aside my pride, and became your menial? Was it not +enough for you to call on her unceasingly during your delirium—she who +feared the opinion of the world more than she loved you—while I, who +braved disgrace and death for your sake, was unnamed and forgotten? Look +on me, most ungrateful of men," he continued, almost with a shriek. +"Look at me; and say, do you yet know me?"</p> + +<p>He dashed his cap to the ground, and with features convulsed with +contending passions, stood before him. Louis looked, turned deadly pale, +and exclaimed, in a voice of utter surprise:</p> + +<p>"Merciful heaven! Minnette!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> + +<h3>LIGHT IN DARKNESS.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock30"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"By the strong spirit's discipline—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the fierce wrong forgiven—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By all that wrings the heart of sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is woman won to Heaven."—<span class="smcap">Willis.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_t.png" alt="T" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +here was a moment's profound silence, during which Louis stood like one +thunderstruck, and Minnette glared upon him with her fierce black eyes.</p></div> + +<p>"And you have been with me all this time, Minnette, and I knew it not," +said Louis, at length.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, with a bitter laugh. "You did not know me. Had it been +Celeste, do you think you would have recognized her?"</p> + +<p>"Minnette, do not look so wildly. Good heaven! who would ever think of +seeing you here, and in such disguise?" he added, still scarcely able to +realize it was Minnette who stood before him.</p> + +<p>"And it was for your sake," she replied, in a voice almost choked by +contending emotions.</p> + +<p>"For me, for me! wretch that I am!" he said, with bitter remorse. "Oh, +Minnette! I am unworthy such devoted love."</p> + +<p>Something in his manner inspired her with hope. She clasped her hands, +and said, wildly:</p> + +<p>"Only say you will not cast me off. Only say you will yet love me, and I +will be a thousand-fold repaid for all I have endured for your sake. Oh, +Louis! is it for the cold, prudish Celeste you reject such love as +mine?"</p> + +<p>"We cannot compel our affections, Minnette. Ce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>leste is the only woman +who can ever possess my heart; but you—you shall always be to me as a +dear sister. You must throw off this disguise, and return with me home +immediately. Your friends shall never know of this—they do not dream +you are here; and you will soon learn to look back to this time as a +troubled dream, happily past."</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, ha! You might take me back to America, that I might witness +your marriage with Celeste. No, Louis Oranmore, <i>never</i> shall <i>she</i> +enjoy such a triumph! I have hated her all my life; and I shall hate her +with my last breath. Do you think I could live and survive this +disgrace? You have driven me to madness; and now behold its fruits."</p> + +<p>Her voice was hoarse with concentrated passion; her eyes burning like +fire; her face ghastly and livid. As she spoke, she drew from within the +doublet she wore a gleaming dagger. As the quick eye of Louis saw the +motion, he sprang forward and seized her by the wrist. She struggled +madly to free herself from his grasp; and in the struggle the point of +the dagger entered her eye.</p> + +<p>A torrent of blood flowed over his hands. Shriek after shriek of mortal +agony broke from the lips of Minnette. The fatal dagger dropped from the +hand of Louis—he staggered back, and stood for a moment paralyzed with +horror. Mad with agony, Minnette fled round the room, the blood gushing +from her sightless eye and covering her face, her agonizing screams +making the house resound. It was an awful, ghastly, appalling spectacle. +Louis stood rooted to the ground, unable to remove his gaze from the +terrible sight.</p> + +<p>Her piercing shrieks soon filled the room. Among the crowd came Lugari, +who instantly guessed what had happened. A surgeon was sent for, and +poor Minnette, struggling madly, was borne to her room and laid upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> +her bed. The surgeon, an Englishman, at length arrived; and Louis, at +last restored to presence of mind, speedily expelled the gaping crowd, +and shut himself up in his own room, unable to endure the harrowing +sight of Minnette's agony. For upwards of two hours he trod up and down, +almost maddened by the recollection of the dreadful scene just past. +Bitter, indeed, was his anguish and remorse; in those two hours seemed +concentrated ages of suffering.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the sound of footsteps announced that the physician was about +to take his leave. Hurriedly leaving the room, Louis followed him, +scarcely daring to ask the question that hovered upon his lips.</p> + +<p>"Tell me!" he exclaimed, vehemently, "is she—will she——"</p> + +<p>"No, she will not die," replied the doctor, who knew what he would ask. +"The wound is dangerous, but not mortal. She must be taken care of. I +will have her immediately removed from here."</p> + +<p>"Then she will recover!" said Louis, fervently, "Thank God!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she will recover," said the doctor, hesitatingly, "but——"</p> + +<p>"But what?" exclaimed Louis, in vague alarm.</p> + +<p>"<i>She will be blind for life!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Great heaven!"</p> + +<p>"Her right eye is already gone, and the other, I fear, will never more +see the light. Still, you should be grateful that her life will be +preserved." And the surgeon took his hat and left.</p> + +<p>"Blind! blind for life!" murmured Louis, in horror; "a fate worse than +death. Oh, Minnette! Minnette!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The lingering glory of an Italian sunset was streaming through the open +window of the room where Minnette lay. It was a plainly, but neatly +furnished room, in one of the <i>Scuole</i>, or benevolent institutions of +the city. Two months had passed since that unhappy day on which we saw +her last. She lies now on the bed, the sunlight falling brightly on her +wan face; that blessed sunlight she will never see more. A Sister of +Mercy, with holy face and meek eyes, sits by her side, holding one of +her hands in hers.</p> + +<p>And this is Minnette; this pale, faded, sightless girl, the once +beautiful, haughty, resplendent Minnette! All her beauty was gone now; +the glowing crimson of high health rests no longer on those hollow, +sunken cheeks; the fierce light of passion will never more flash from +those dimmed orbs; from those poor, pale lips, bitter, scathing words +can never more fall. But through all this outward wreck shines a calmer, +holier beauty than ever rested on her face before. In the furnace, she +has been purified; the fierce, passionate spirit has been subdued by +grace; the lion in her nature has yielded to the Lamb that was slain; +the wrung, agonized heart has ceased to struggle, and rests in peace at +last.</p> + +<p>Not without many a struggle had her wild, fierce nature yielded to the +soothings of religion. Long, tempestuous, and passionate was the +struggle; and when her good angel triumphed at last she came, not as a +meek penitent, but as a worn, world-weary sinner, longing only for peace +and rest.</p> + +<p>She had not seen Louis during her illness. Often he came to visit her, +but still her cry was: "Not yet! not yet!" Her wild, mad love was dying +out of her heart, and with it her intense hatred of Celeste. Her days, +now, were spent in meditation and prayer, or listening to the gentle, +soothing words of Sister Beatrice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The sun is setting, sister, is it not?" she asked, turning her head +towards the windows, as though she still could see.</p> + +<p>"Yes; a more glorious sunset I never beheld."</p> + +<p>"And I can never see it more; never behold the beautiful earth or sky; +never see sun, or moon, or stars again!" said Minnette, in a voice low, +but unspeakably sad.</p> + +<p>"No, my child, but there is an inward vision that can never be seen with +corporeal eyes. Now that those outward eyes are sealed forever, a +glimpse of heaven has been bestowed upon you, to lighten the darkness of +your life."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Sister Beatrice, if I were always with you, I feel I could submit +to my fate without a murmur. But when I go out into the world, this +fierce nature that is within me, that is subdued but not conquered, will +again arise; and I will become more passionate, selfish, and sinful than +ever."</p> + +<p>"Then why go out into the world any more? Why not enter a convent, and +end your days in peace?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sister! if I only might," said Minnette, clasping her hands; "but +I, poor, blind, and helpless, what could I do in a convent?"</p> + +<p>"You could pray, you could be happy; if you wish to enter, your +blindness shall be no obstacle," said Sister Beatrice.</p> + +<p>At this moment a servant entered and handed the sister a note, addressed +to Minnette. She opened it, and read aloud:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Every day for a month I have called here, and you have refused +to see me. Minnette, I conjure you to let me visit you; I cannot +rest until I have seen you, and obtained your forgiveness.</p> + +<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Louis.</span>"<br /></p></blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p> + +<p>Minnette's pale face flushed deep crimson, and then grew whiter than +before, as she said, vehemently:</p> + +<p>"No, I will not! I will not! I <i>cannot</i> see him more!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" said Sister Beatrice. "Confess, my child, that vanity still +lingers in your heart. You do not wish to see him because you think he +will be shocked to find you so changed and altered. Is it not so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes!" replied Minnette, in a fainting voice.</p> + +<p>"But this is wrong; you ought to see him. As you are desirous of taking +the vail, it is but right that you should see him, and bid him farewell, +and let him inform your friends when he sees them. Come, my dear child, +cast out this spirit of pride, and let me admit him, if only for a +moment."</p> + +<p>There was a fierce struggle in the breast of Minnette. It was but +momentary, however, as, shading her face with one hand, she said:</p> + +<p>"Be it so; I will endure the humiliation; let him come."</p> + +<p>Sister Beatrice pressed her lips to the brow of the invalid, and left +the room. A moment later, and Louis, pale, thin, and careworn, entered. +He started, and grew a shade paler, as his eyes fell on that poor, pale +face, robbed of all its beauty, and with a suppressed groan, sank on his +knees by the bedside.</p> + +<p>"Minnette! Minnette!" he said, hoarsely. "Can you ever forgive me?"</p> + +<p>The sightless eyes were turned toward him, in the vain effort to see. +Alas! All was darkness. She held out one little, transparent hand, which +he took between both of his.</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to forgive," she said, meekly. "All that has happened to +me I deserved. Do not grieve for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> me, Louis, you have nothing to +reproach yourself with; it was all my own fault."</p> + +<p>He bowed his forehead on her hand, and tears, that did honor to his +generous heart, fell from his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Tell Celeste, when you see her, how sorry I am for all my cruelty and +injustice toward her. Ask her to forgive me; she is good and gentle, I +feel she will do it. If I only had her pardon, I feel I could die +content. And, Oh Louis! when she is happy with you, will you both +sometimes think of Minnette, blind, and alone in a foreign land?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>poor</i> Minnette!" he said, in a choking voice.</p> + +<p>"Do not pity me, Louis; I am very happy," but the pale lips trembled as +she spoke; "happier than I ever was when I was full of life and health. +Oh, Louis, when I look back and think of what I have been—so selfish, +and hard-hearted, and cruel—I tremble to think what I might yet have +been if God in his mercy had not sent me this affliction. And Celeste; +no words can ever tell how I have wronged her. You know how I struck +her, in my blind rage, and the angelic patience and forgiveness with +which she afterward sought to love me, and make me happy. Oh, Louis! all +her sweetness and meekness will haunt me to my dying day."</p> + +<p>Her voice faltered, then entirely failed, and for the first time in her +life the once haughty Minnette wept.</p> + +<p>"Tears are strange visitors to these eyes," she said, with a sad smile; +"there may be hope for me yet, since I can weep for the past. Louis, in +a few weeks I will enter a convent, and the remainder of my life shall +be spent in praying for you and Celeste, and the rest of my friends. And +now you must leave me—farewell, a last farewell, <i>dear</i> Louis. Tell +them all at home how I have learned to love them at last, and ask them +to forgive poor Minnette."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p> + +<p>He could not speak; she made a sign for him to go. Raising the thin, +pale hand to his lips, and casting one long, last look on the sad, yet +peaceful face of the once beautiful Minnette, he quitted the room. And +thus they parted, these two, never to meet in life again.</p> + +<p>Meantime, we must revisit St. Mark's, and witness the startling events +that are bringing matters to a rapid <i>denouement</i> there.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> + +<h3>THE DEATH-BED CONFESSION.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"Her wretched brain gave way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she became a wreck, at random driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without one glimpse of reason or of Heaven."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_i.png" alt="I" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +t was a bleak, stormy December evening, a week before Christmas. A +bright fire was burning in the well-known parlor of Sunset Hall.</p></div> + +<p>In his easy-chair, with his gouty legs, swathed in flannels, reposing on +two others, lay our old friend the squire, literally "laid up by the +legs." In the opposite corner was Lizzie, dozing, as usual, on her sofa; +while good Mrs. Gower sat with her fat hands folded in her lap, reposing +after the cares of the day. Dr. Wiseman had not yet sufficiently +recovered from his wounds and bruises to go abroad, and had just retired +to his room, while his affectionate spouse was enjoying herself at a +grand ball in the village.</p> + +<p>The worthy trio had sat in solemn silence for upwards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> of an hour, when +the door was flung open, and Jupiter rushed in to announce "dat a boy +commanded to see ole marster 'mediately."</p> + +<p>"To see me?" said the squire, in amazement. "What does he want? I won't +see anybody to-night."</p> + +<p>"He's got a letter, and says he must d'liver it to-night—it's very +important," said Jupiter.</p> + +<p>"Humph! well, admit him then. I never can get a minute's peace. 'No rest +for the wicked,' as Solomon says. Well, here he comes."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, a youth, apparently about sixteen, entered the apartment, +bearing every evidence of having journeyed fast.</p> + +<p>"You are Squire Erliston, I believe," said the lad, bowing respectfully.</p> + +<p>"Well, you may believe it," said the squire, testily; "it's a name I was +never ashamed of. What do you want of me at this hour of the night, +young man?"</p> + +<p>"I have been sent with this letter," said the boy, presenting one; "it's +a matter of life and death."</p> + +<p>"Matter of life and death! Lord bless me!" exclaimed the astonished +squire, "what can it mean? Hand me my spectacles, Mrs. Gower, and put +them on my nose, till I overhaul this document. Maybe it contains +state-treason, a gunpowder plot or something. 'The pen is mightier than +the sword,' as Solomon says; though I'll be shot if I believe it. +Solomon didn't know much about swords, and acted queer sometimes—didn't +behave well to his wife, they say. Humph! well, here goes."</p> + +<p>So saying, the squire opened the letter and began to read. And as he +read, his eyes began to protrude, till they threatened to shoot from his +head altogether. The letter ran as follows:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Magnus Erliston</span>: Come to me immediately—am dying. I have +something to tell you of the utmost importance, and I cannot die +with it on my conscience. Above all things, do not, for your +life, breathe a word of this to Dr. Wiseman. Come instantly, or +you may repent it.</p> + +<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Madge Oranmore.</span>"<br /></p></blockquote> + +<p>"Now, what in the name of Beelzebub does the woman mean?" exclaimed the +squire, as he finished reading this. "How does she expect a man to turn +out on a December night, with the gout in his legs? I say, youngster, do +you know who sent you with this precious letter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; my mistress, Mrs. Oranmore."</p> + +<p>"And what's the matter with her, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>"She has been ailing for some time; and a week ago, her illness took a +dangerous turn. The doctors say she has but few days to live, and she +seems to be anxious about some secret that preys on her mind. I have not +rested day or night since I started for this place. I fear she will not +live until I get back, unless you make haste."</p> + +<p>"I know not what to do," said the squire, evidently appalled. "I'd like +to see the old lady before she leaves this 'vale of tears,' as Solomon +says, but how the mischief I'm to go, I can't tell. If she could only +put off dying for a month or two, now, I'd go with pleasure, but I +suppose she can't conveniently. 'Time and tide wait for no man,' as +Solomon says. I mustn't tell old Wiseman, either, it seems—hum-m-m! +'Pon my life, I don't know what to say about it."</p> + +<p>All this was muttered in a sort of soliloquy; and as he ceased, the +merry jingle of bells approaching the house saluted his ears. The next +moment, Gipsy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> wrapped up in shawls, and hoods, and furs, fresh and +bright as a daisy, danced into the room, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Here I am, good folks! The ball was a horrid stupid affair, without a +bit of fun, so I thought I'd come home." Here, catching sight of the +stranger, Gipsy favored him with a stare of surprise, and was about to +leave the room, when the squire called:</p> + +<p>"Come back here, monkey; I'm in a confounded scrape, and I want you to +help me out of it."</p> + +<p>"All right; just hint what it is, will you? and I'll have you out of it +in a twinkling."</p> + +<p>"Read that," said the squire, placing the mysterious letter in her hand.</p> + +<p>Gipsy read it, and then exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Well, there's some mystery here—that's certain. But you can't go, can +you, Guardy?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure I can't. You might as well expect Mrs. Gower, there, to +dance the double shuffle, as expect me to go on such a journey."</p> + +<p>"Well, Spider's not to know of it, and he couldn't go if he did, with +his dilapidated continuations; Aunty Liz can't travel and lie asleep on +a sofa at the same time; and Aunty Gower, poor woman! can't travel up +stairs, under half an hour's panting and groaning; so none of them can +go, <i>that's</i> demonstrated—as old Mr. Blackboard used to say. Eh! +Guardy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. But what's to be done?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it's very clear what's to be done. <i>I'll</i> go!"</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i>," said the squire, with a stare. "What good can you do?"</p> + +<p>"Come, now! I like that! I'll leave it to everybody, if I'm not worth +the whole of you put together. Ain't I, now?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Oranmore won't tell <i>you</i> her secret."</p> + +<p>"Well, if she don't, she'll lose the wisest, nicest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> <i>sensiblest</i> +confidante ever anybody had, though I say it. Any way, I'll try; and if +she won't tell, why, she'll have to leave it alone—that's all. When do +you start?" she asked, turning to the youth.</p> + +<p>"Now, if you're ready," replied the lad.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm ready. How did you come? by the stage?"</p> + +<p>"No, in a sleigh—it's at the door."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I won't detain you. Good-bye for a week, Guardy; good-bye, +Aunty Gower. Off we go!"</p> + +<p>"Hadn't you better stay till morning," said Mrs. Gower, anxiously. "It +is too cold and stormy to travel by night."</p> + +<p>"And in the meantime this old lady may give up the ghost. No; there's no +time to lose; and besides, I rather like the idea of a journey, to vary +the monotony of St. Mark's. Good-bye all—I leave you my blessing," said +Gipsy, with a parting flourish, as she left the room and took her place +by the side of the boy in the sleigh. Nothing remarkable occurred on the +journey. Gipsy, comfortably nestled under the buffalo robes, scarcely +felt the cold. The next morning they halted at a wayside inn to take +breakfast, and then dashed off again.</p> + +<p>Owing to the state of the roads it was late in the afternoon when they +reached the city; and almost dark when Gipsy, preceded by her companion, +entered the gloomy home of Mrs. Oranmore.</p> + +<p>"My stars! what a dismal old tomb. It really smells of ghosts and rats, +and I should not wonder if it was tenanted by both," was Gipsy's +internal comment as she passed up the long, dark staircase, and longer, +darker hall, and entered the sick-room of Mrs. Oranmore—the longest and +darkest of all. Stretched on a hearse-like bed—stiff, stark, and rigid, +as though she were already dead—lay Madge Oranmore—her face looking +like some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> grim, stern mask carved in iron. An old woman, whom the boy +addressed as "mother," sat by her side.</p> + +<p>The invalid started quickly at the sound of their footsteps; and seeing +the boy, exclaimed, in a faint, yet eager and imperious tone:</p> + +<p>"Has he come?"</p> + +<p>"No; he is ill, and could not come," said Gipsy, stepping forward. "He +is unable to walk, so I have come in his stead."</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" demanded Mrs. Oranmore, sharply.</p> + +<p>"Well, really, I'd be obliged to anybody who would tell me—at present, +it's more than I know. I used to think I was Gipsy Gower—Squire +Erliston's ward; but, of late, I've found out I don't belong to anybody +in particular. I was picked up, one night, as if I had been a piece of +drift-wood; and I expect, like Venus, I rose from the sea."</p> + +<p>"Girl, have you come here to mock me?" exclaimed Dame Oranmore, +fiercely.</p> + +<p>"The saints forbid! I'm telling you the truth, the whole truth, and +nothing but the truth. I was picked up one Christmas eve, nineteen years +ago, on the beach, about a quarter of a mile from here; and—good +Heaven! what's the matter with you?" exclaimed Gipsy, springing back.</p> + +<p>With the shriek of a dying panther, Mrs. Oranmore sprung up in her bed, +with her eyes starting from their sockets, as she fairly screamed:</p> + +<p>"What! Heaven of heavens! did he not drown you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>no</i>; I rather think not—at least, if I ever was drowned, I have +no recollection of it. But, my goodness! don't glare at me so—you're +absolutely hideous enough to make every hair on a body's head stand +perpendicular, with those eyes of yours."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How were you saved? Answer me that! How were you saved?" again +screamed the excited woman.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't recollect much about it myself; but Mrs. Gower told me, +the other day, that she found me rolled up in a shawl, on the beach, +like an Esquimaux papoose asleep in a snow-bank. I haven't any notion +who the 'he' is you speak of; but if 'he' left me there to turn into an +icicle, I only wish I could see him, and tell him a piece of my +mind—that's all."</p> + +<p>"And this was Christmas eve, nineteen years ago?" exclaimed Madge +Oranmore, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Great Heaven! how just is thy retribution! And at last, in my dying +hour, I behold before me the child of Esther Erliston and Alfred +Oranmore!" exclaimed the dying woman, falling back on her pillow, and +clasping her hands.</p> + +<p>"<i>What!</i>" exclaimed Gipsy, springing forward, and seizing her by the +arm. "Whose child, did you say I was?"</p> + +<p>"The only daughter of Esther Erliston and Alfred Oranmore; and heiress, +in your mother's right, of Mount Sunset Hall," replied Mrs. Oranmore.</p> + +<p>"And grandchild of Squire Erliston?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Gipsy staggered back, and covered her face with her hands. Her emotion +was but momentary, however; and again approaching the bed, she said, in +a tone that was perfectly calm, though her wild, excited eyes spoke a +different tale:</p> + +<p>"Tell me all about this. How came I to be left to perish on the shore?"</p> + +<p>"Leave the room, both of you," said the sick woman, to her attendants. +They obeyed. "Now, sit down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> beside me," she continued, turning to +Gipsy; "and tell me, are you married?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they say so—to old Dr. Nicholas Wiseman."</p> + +<p>"Great heaven! what did you say?" exclaimed Mrs. Oranmore, in a voice of +horror.</p> + +<p>"Yes. It's surprising, ain't it, that I married that old man. But that's +got nothing to do with your story. Go on," urged Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Child! child!" said the dying woman faintly, "<i>you have wedded the +murderer of your mother</i>."</p> + +<p>With a low, sharp cry Gipsy sprang to her feet—her countenance blanched +to the hue of death.</p> + +<p>"Did he know your history?" asked Mrs. Oranmore, breaking the long pause +that followed.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he heard it a few weeks before we were married," said Gipsy, in a +voice that was hoarse and unnatural.</p> + +<p>"Then he married you that he might possess Mount Sunset. Oh, the +villainy of that wretch! But let him beware! for the day of retribution +is at hand."</p> + +<p>"Tell me all, from the beginning," said Gipsy, seating herself, and +speaking in a tone as stern, and with a face as firm and rigid, as that +of the grim invalid herself; but those eyes—those eyes—how they +blazed!</p> + +<p>There is little need to recapitulate the tale told to Gipsy—she related +only what the reader already knows; the death of Esther by <i>her</i> +instigation, but by <i>his</i> hand; and the infant left to perish in the +waves.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he left you on the shore, thinking the waves would wash you +away," concluded Mrs. Oranmore, "when you were providentially saved by +the same Almighty power that guarded Moses in his cradle of bulrushes. I +supposed you had perished, and so did he; but the agonies of remorse I +have suffered for what I have done, I can never reveal. Night and day, +sleeping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> or waking, the last dying shrieks of Esther Oranmore have been +ringing in my ears. My son married Lizzie Erliston; and his violent +death was but the beginning of my living punishment. For <i>his</i> son's +sake, I have kept my dreadful secret during life; but now, at the hour +of death, a power over which I have no control compels me to reveal all. +I am beyond the power of the law—I go to answer for my crimes at the +bar of God; therefore, I fear not in making these disclosures. My hour +has come."</p> + +<p>"But he shall not escape!" said Gipsy, rising from the chair, on which +she sat as if petrified, while listening to the story of her birth. "No! +by the heaven above us both, his life shall pay for this! Woman," she +continued, turning fiercely upon Mrs. Oranmore, "you <i>shall not</i> die +until you have done justice to the child of her you have murdered! I +will send for a magistrate; and you must make a deposition of all you +have told me to him. Death shall not enter here yet, to cheat the +gallows of its due!"</p> + +<p>She sprang to the bell, and rang a peal that brought all the servants in +the house flocking wildly into the room.</p> + +<p>"Go to the nearest magistrate," she said, turning to the boy who had +accompanied her from St. Mark's—"fly! vanish! Tell him it is a matter +of life and death. Go! and be back here in ten minutes, or you shall rue +it!"</p> + +<p>The boy fled, frightened out of his wits by her fierce words and looks. +Shutting the door in the faces of the others, Gipsy seated herself; and +setting her teeth hard together, and clenching her hands, she fixed her +eyes on the floor, and sat as immovable as if turning to stone. Mrs. +Oranmore lay in silence—either not willing or not able to speak.</p> + +<p>Ere fifteen minutes had thus passed, the boy re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span>turned, accompanied by a +magistrate—a short, blustering, important personage. He bowed to +Gipsy—who arose upon his entrance—and began drawing off his gloves, +making some remark upon the inclemency of the weather, which she +abruptly cut short, by saying:</p> + +<p>"This woman is dying, and wishes to make a deposition. Here are +writing-materials; sit down and commence—you have no time to spare."</p> + +<p>Hurried away by her impetuosity, the little man found himself, before he +was aware of it, sitting by the bedside, pen in hand, writing and +listening, with many an ejaculation of wonder, horror, and amazement.</p> + +<p>At length the deposition was duly drawn up and signed, and he arose, +exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"But, good heaven! madam, do you not know, if you survive, you will be +arrested too, and——"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Gipsy, sternly; "she is dying."</p> + +<p>"I tell you I did not murder her," she exclaimed, almost springing up in +bed; "it was he who gave her the poison! I never did it. Listen! do you +not hear her shrieks? or is it not the cries of the fiends I hear +already? <i>He</i> was afraid. Ha! ha! ha!" she said, with a horrid laugh, "I +mocked him until he ventured to do it. He drowned her child, too; he +said he did—he threw it into the sea; and dead people tell no tales. +Who said it was alive? I will never believe it! It is dead! It is dead!"</p> + +<p>She sank back exhausted. The magistrate gazed, white with horror; but +Gipsy was calm, stern, and still.</p> + +<p>"Look, look! they come for me—their arms are outstretched—they +approach—they strangle me. Off, demon—off, I say!" A wild, piercing +shriek rang through the house, then she fell back, her jaw dropped, her +eyes grew glazed, her face rigid, and Madge Oranmore was dead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a moment's appalled silence. Then the magistrate said:</p> + +<p>"Let us leave this dreadful place; the very air seems tainted with +blood."</p> + +<p>Without a word, she turned and followed him from the room, and the +house. Rejecting all his invitations to let him find lodgings for her in +the city during the night, she accompanied him to his office, received a +warrant for the arrest of Dr. Wiseman; and with two constables, set off +immediately for Sunset Hall.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> + +<h3>RETRIBUTION.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock32"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, woman wronged can cherish hate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More deep and dark than manhood may,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the mockery of fate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath left revenge her chosen way."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> +<p style="margin-left: 60%;"><span class="smcap">Whittier.</span></p> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_i.png" alt="I" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +t was the afternoon of the following day. The squire sat alone, +muttering to himself: "Singular! most singular! most ex-<i>cess</i>-ively +singular! wants a private interview, eh! What the dickens can be in old +Wiseman's noddle now? Maybe he wants to divorce Gipsy, and marry Lizzie. +Ha! ha! ha! that would be a joke. Wonder what old Mother Oranmore +wanted? that's another secret. I suppose she told Gipsy and—ha! here's +Gipsy herself. 'Speak of Old Nick, and he'll appear,' as Solomon says. +Well, what's the news?"</p></div> + +<p>"Where's Dr. Wiseman?" inquired Gipsy, abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Up stairs. He sent down word some time ago,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> that he had something +important to tell me, and wanted a private interview. Think of that! But +what is the matter with you? You look as if you'd been riding on a +broomstick all night—as if you were the Witch of Endor, who told King +Saul's fortune long ago."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, a slow, heavy footstep was heard descending the stairs.</p> + +<p>"There's old Wiseman now, pegging along," said the squire. "I never see +him walking, since he broke his shin-bone, that he doesn't remind me of +Old Nick himself. Now for this wonderful secret of his."</p> + +<p>"Guardy, don't mention that I am here," said Gipsy, hurriedly. "I have a +project in hand, that I fancy will astonish him a little, by and by."</p> + +<p>"Well, be sure you're right, then go ahead, as Solomon says—you always +have some project or other in your cranium to bother his brains."</p> + +<p>"I fancy I will bother him a little more than usual this time," said +Gipsy, with a low, bitter laugh—gliding through one door just as the +doctor entered by another.</p> + +<p>Dr. Wiseman, thin and attenuated by illness, looked even more ghastly +and hideous (if such a thing were possible) than when we saw him last. +He advanced, and took a seat near the fire.</p> + +<p>"Well, Wiseman, what's this wonderful affair you have to tell me?" said +the squire, adjusting himself in his seat to listen.</p> + +<p>"It concerns my wife," replied the doctor, slowly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, some complaint, I'll be bound! Now, I tell you what, Wiseman, I +won't listen to your stories about Gipsy. She has always done what she +liked, and she always shall, for what I care. If she likes to enjoy +herself, she will, and you nor no one else shall interfere," said the +squire, striking the table with an emphatic thump.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't jump at conclusions so hastily, my dear sir," said the doctor, +dryly. "I have no complaint to make of Mrs. Wiseman. It is of her birth +and parentage I would speak."</p> + +<p>"Her birth and parentage! Is the man mad? Don't you know she's a +foundling?" said the squire, staring with all his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but lately I have discovered who she is. You need not excite +yourself, Squire Erliston, as I see you intend doing. Listen to me, and +I will tell you all about it. The time has come for you to know.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are not aware that for many years I have been the friend +and confidant of Mrs. Madge Oranmore; but so it is. I was bound to her +by the strongest ties of gratitude, and willingly served her in all +things.</p> + +<p>"One Christmas eve, just nineteen years ago, she sent for me in most +urgent haste. I followed her messenger, and was shown to the lady's +room. There I found an infant enveloped in a large shawl, which she told +me I was to consign to the waves—in a word, to drown it. You start, +Squire Erliston, but such was her command. She refused to tell me what +prompted her to so fiendish an act. I was in her power, and she knew I +dared not refuse; I therefore consented——"</p> + +<p>"To drown the child?" said the squire, recoiling in horror.</p> + +<p>"Listen—I feared to refuse, and promised to do it. I went to the beach, +the tide was out; while I stood hesitating, I heard a sleigh +approaching. I wrapped the child up closely, and laid it right in their +way, and stood aside to watch the event; determined, in case they did +not see it, to provide for it comfortably myself. Fortunately, they saw +it. A woman who was in the sleigh took it with her—that woman was Mrs. +Gower—that child is now my wife."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Goo-oo-d Lord!" ejaculated the squire, whose mouth and eyes were open +to their widest extent.</p> + +<p>"When you told me how she had been found, I knew immediately it was the +same. I had long felt remorse for what I had done, and I at once +resolved to make reparation to the best of my power, by marrying the +foundling. This, Squire Erliston, was the secret of my wish to marry +Gipsy, which puzzled you so long.</p> + +<p>"Still, I was completely ignorant of her parentage. Owing to my +accident, I was unable to visit Mrs. Oranmore; but I wrote to her +repeatedly, threatening her with exposure if she did not immediately +reveal the whole affair. She grew alarmed at last, and sent me a letter +that explained all, only begging me not to disgrace her, by letting the +world know what she had done. That letter, I regret to say, has been +unhappily lost."</p> + +<p>"Well!" said the squire, breathlessly, seeing he paused.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, she told me all. My wife is the child of your eldest +daughter, Esther, and Alfred Oranmore."</p> + +<p>Bewildered, amazed, thunderstruck, the squire sat gazing upon him in a +speechless horror.</p> + +<p>"The way of it was <i>this</i>," continued the doctor, as calmly as though he +was ordering him a prescription. "Alfred Oranmore, as you know, was +accidentally drowned, leaving his wife in the utmost destitution. Mrs. +Oranmore heard of it, and had Esther privately conveyed to her house, +while she caused a notice of her death to be published in the papers. +What her object was in doing this, I know not. Esther, she says, died in +her house. How she came by her death, I cannot even guess. I knew +nothing of it at the time, as I told you before. Mrs. Oranmore wished +this child removed, that it might not be in the way of her son, Barry; +and thinking I was as heartless and cruel as herself, she employed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> me +to drown it. Such, Squire Erliston, is this singular story. I thought it +my duty to inform you immediately."</p> + +<p>"And Gipsy is my grandchild," said the squire, in the slow, bewildered +tone of one who cannot realize what he says.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and the rightful heiress of Mount Sunset," said the wily doctor, +in a slow, triumphant tone.</p> + +<p>"And the avenger of her mother!" cried the voice of Gipsy herself, as +she stood before them. "Oh, wonderful Doctor Wiseman! astonishing indeed +is thy talent for invention and hardihood. What a strain on your +imagination it must have been, to invent such a story! Have you ever +heard of the proverb, 'Murder will out,' my lord and master? Ho, there! +Burke and Johnston, enter! here is your prisoner!"</p> + +<p>She opened the door as she spoke, and the constables entered.</p> + +<p>"What in the devil's name means this?" exclaimed the doctor, growing +deadly pale.</p> + +<p>"Yes, call on your master," mocked Gipsy; "he has stood by you long, but +I fear he will not serve you more. Quick, there, Burke! on with the +handcuffs. Gently, Doctor Wiseman—gently, my dear sir; you will hurt +your delicate wrists if you struggle so. Did any prophetic seer ever +foretell, Doctor Wiseman, your end would be by the halter?"</p> + +<p>"What means this outrage? Unhand me, villains!" exclaimed the doctor, +hoarse with rage and fear, as he struggled madly to free himself from +the grasp of the constables.</p> + +<p>"Softly, doctor, softly," said Gipsy, in a voice, low, calm, and +mocking; "you are <i>only</i> arrested for the murder of my mother, Esther +Oranmore, just nineteen years ago. Ah! I see you remember it. I feared +such a trifle might have escaped your memory!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span></p> + +<p>The face of the doctor grew perfectly ghastly. He staggered back, and +would have fallen, had he not been upheld by one of the men. Gipsy stood +before him, with a face perfectly white, save two dark purple spots +burning on either cheek. Her wild eyes were blazing with an intense +light, her lips wreathed in a smile of exultant triumph; her long hair, +streaming in disorder down her back, gave her a look that awed even the +constables themselves.</p> + +<p>"And now, Doctor Wiseman," she said, in a slow, bitter, but exulting +voice, "I have fulfilled my vow of vengeance; my revenge is complete, or +will be, when your miserable body swings from the gallows. I see now, +your aim in compelling me to marry you; but you have failed. Satan has +deserted his earthly representative, at last. No earthly power can save +you from hanging now. Away with him to prison! The very air is tainted +which a murderer breathes."</p> + +<p>The men advanced to bear off their prisoner. At that moment the +recollection of the astrologer's fell prediction flashed across his +mind. Word for word it had been fulfilled. Before him, in ghastly array, +arose the scaffold, the hangman, his dying agonies, and the terrible +hereafter. Overcome by fear, horror, and remorse, with a piercing shriek +of utter woe, the wretched man fell senseless to the floor.</p> + +<p>"Take him away," said Gipsy, sternly, turning aside with a shudder of +disgust; "my eyes loathe the sight of him!"</p> + +<p>They bore him away. Gipsy stood at the window listening, until the last +sound of the carriage died away in the distance; then, abruptly turning, +she quitted the room, leaving the squire stunned, speechless, and +bewildered by the rapidity with which all this had taken place.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> + +<h3>ANOTHER SURPRISE.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock32"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No heiress art thou, lady, but the child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of one who's still unknown."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_g.png" alt="G" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +reat was the excitement and consternation which the news of Dr. +Wiseman's crime and arrest created in St. Mark's and the neighboring +city. The peculiar and romantic circumstances attending it, imperfectly +known as they were, the respectability of the parties implicated, the +high standing of the prisoner in society—all contributed to add to the +general interest of the case.</p></div> + +<p>The rapid and exciting events, the startling discovery that Gipsy was +his grandchild, so confounded and bewildered the squire, who was never +noted for the brightness of his intellect, that it completely upset his +equilibrium; and his days were passed alone, smoking and staring +stupidly at every one he saw. As for Lizzie, she was too feeble and +languid either to feel horror or surprise, and a faint stare and shiver +was the only effect the news produced upon her. Mrs. Gower groaned in +spirit over the depravity of mankind in general, and Dr. Wiseman in +particular; and generally passed her days in solemn exhortations to the +servants, to be warned by his fearful example, and mend their ways.</p> + +<p>On Gipsy, therefore, all the business of the household devolved. A great +change had come over the elf; her laughing days seemed passed; and +quietly establishing herself as mistress of the household, she issued +her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> orders with a quiet dignity and calm authority, that commanded +obedience and respect. She wrote to Louis, informing him of all that had +occurred, and desiring him to return home immediately.</p> + +<p>The only moments of relaxation which Gipsy ever allowed herself were her +visits to Valley Cottage, listening to the gentle words of +Celeste—"dear Celeste," as Gipsy called her. Day by day she had grown +paler and frailer, her step had lost its airy lightness, her cheeks no +longer wore the hue of health; but no complaint ever passed her lips. +Gipsy often passed her nights at the cottage, feeling it a comfort to +pour her troubles into the sympathizing ears of her friend. And Celeste +would forget her own sorrow in soothing and consoling the poor, +half-crazed little elf.</p> + +<p>Miss Hagar, whose health had for some time been failing, was now unable +to leave her bed. Fearing the shock might prove fatal, Celeste had taken +care she should not hear of her brother's arrest. As for Minnette, no +one knew where she was; and, indeed, few cared—for her hard, selfish +nature had made her disliked by all.</p> + +<p>One evening, Mrs. Gower sat in one of the upper chambers conversing with +Mrs. Donne, whose life, it will be remembered, Gipsy saved. That worthy +old lady was still an inmate of Sunset Hall, and unwilling to leave her +comfortable quarters while suffering with the "rheumatiz." In the +confusion and excitement following the arrest, she had been almost +totally neglected, and had as yet no opportunity of learning the +particulars. Providentially encountering Mrs. Gower, when really dying +of curiosity, she began plying her with questions; and the worthy +housekeeper, delighted to find so attentive a listener, sat down, and +with much gravity began<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> narrating the whole affair, while the attention +of her auditor deepened every moment.</p> + +<p>"Laws a massy 'pon me!" exclaimed Mrs. Donne, as she ceased; "was she +picked up on the beach, Christmas eve, nineteen years ago?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; astonishing, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"'Stonishing! I guess so!" said Mrs. Donne; "if you knew what I do, you'd +say so."</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you know? <i>do</i> tell me," said Mrs. Gower, whose curiosity +was aroused.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't mind if I do; though I did intend to carry the secret to +the grave with me. But as I couldn't help it, they can't do nothing to +me for losing the child.</p> + +<p>"On the very night you speak of, Christmas eve, nineteen years ago, I +was brought by a young man to a house in the distant part of the city to +nurse a woman and child. The young man was tall, and dark, and powerful +handsome, but sort o' fierce-looking; and she—oh, she was the loveliest +creature I ever laid my eyes onto! She was nothin' but a child herself, +too, and a furriner, I suspect, by her tongue.</p> + +<p>"Well, I staid there 'long with her, till nigh onto midnight; and then I +wrapped myself up to come home. As I was going out, he called on me to +stop. So I sat down to listen, and he told me, if I'd take the child +home with me, and take care on't, he'd pay me well. I had neither chick +nor child of my own, besides being a widder, and I took him at his word. +He gave me a purse with a good round sum of money in it, on the spot, +and promised me more.</p> + +<p>"I took the little one, wrapped it up in my shawl, and set out for home.</p> + +<p>"On the way I got tired; and when I reached the beach, I sat down to +rest. Two or three minutes after, there was a great cry of fire. I +became frightened;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> dropped the baby in my confusion; wandered off I +know not how; and when I came back, not long afterward, it was gone.</p> + +<p>"Well, I 'clare to man! I was most crazy. I hunted up and down the beach +till nigh mornin', but I could see no signs of it; and I supposed the +tide carried the poor little thing away. I was dreadfully sorry, you may +be sure; but as it couldn't be helped, I thought I'd make the best of +it, and say nothing about it. So when the young man came, I told him it +was doing very well. And he never asked to see it, but gave me some +money, and went away.</p> + +<p>"For some time after he continued sending me money; but he soon stopped +altogether, and I never heard from either of them more."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever find out his name?" inquired Mrs. Gower.</p> + +<p>"Yes. One day he dropped his handkerchief, going out. I picked it up, +and his name was written on it in full: it was, <i>Barry Oranmore</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Barry Oranmore!" repeated Mrs. Gower, thunderstruck.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that was his name; and they were the handsomest pair ever I saw. +I'm sure I'd know either of 'em again, if ever I saw them."</p> + +<p>Much agitated, Mrs. Gower arose, and going to where she had laid the +miniature she had found on his neck when dead, she handed it to Mrs. +Donne. That personage seized it, with a stifled shriek, as she +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"My goodness gracious! it's the picter of the lady I 'tended. I'd know +that face anywhere."</p> + +<p>"Oh! dear! dear! dear! what <i>would</i> Miss Lizzie say if she heard this?" +ejaculated Mrs. Gower, holding up her hands. "And the child, poor thing! +are you sure it was drowned?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, no; I ain't to say <i>sure</i>; but it's most likely. It was an +odd-looking little thing, too, with a nat'ral mark, like a red cross, +right onto its shoulder, which is something I never seed on any baby +before."</p> + +<p>But to the surprise of Mrs. Donne, Mrs. Gower sprang panting to her +feet, and grasped her by the arm, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"On which shoulder was that mark? Say on which shoulder!"</p> + +<p>"On the left. Laws a massy 'pon me! what's the matter?" said the +astonished Mrs Donne.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens! Can the child she speaks of have been——"</p> + +<p>"Who's?" inquired Mrs. Donne, eagerly.</p> + +<p>Before Mrs. Gower could reply, she heard Gipsy's foot in the passage. +Going out, she caught her by the arm and drew her into the room. Then +before the young lady could recover from her astonishment at this +summary proceeding, she had unfastened her dress, pulled it down off her +left shoulder, and displayed a <i>deep-red cross</i>.</p> + +<p>Recovering herself, Gipsy sprang back, exclaiming indignantly:</p> + +<p>"What in the name of all that's impolite, has got into you, Aunty Gower? +Pretty work this, pulling the clothes off a lady's back without even +saying, by your leave."</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Donne had seen the mark, and fell back, with a stifled cry.</p> + +<p>"That's it! that's it exactly! She's the child saved, after all."</p> + +<p>"Why, whose child am I <i>now</i>?" said the astonished Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"Can you describe the shawl the child you speak of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> was wrapped in?" +inquired Mrs. Gower, without giving her time to answer Gipsy's question.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that I can—it was my own wedding shawl, as my blessed husband, +who is now an angel up above, bought for me afore we were married. It +was bright red with a white border, and the letters J. D. (which stands +for Jane Donne) in one corner, and the letters J. D. (which stands for +<i>James</i> Donne) in t'other," replied Mrs. Donne, with animation.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gower sank into a seat and covered her face with her hands; while +Gipsy stood gazing from one to the other in the utmost perplexity.</p> + +<p>"What does all this mean?" she asked, at length.</p> + +<p>Without replying, Mrs. Gower left the room, and presently reappeared +with a faded crimson shawl, which she spread upon the bed. Mrs. Donne +uttered a cry of joy when she saw it.</p> + +<p>"Sakes alive! that is the very one. Where on earth did you get it?"</p> + +<p>"Wrapped around the child."</p> + +<p>"Aunty, pray tell me what in the world does all this mean?" exclaimed +Gipsy.</p> + +<p>For reply, Mrs. Gower briefly narrated what had been told her by Mrs. +Donne. The surprise of Gipsy may be imagined, but her surprise scarcely +equaled her pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" she fervently exclaimed, as Mrs. Gower ceased, "then I have +<i>not</i> married the murderer of my mother—that thought would have +rendered me wretched to my dying day. My mother, then, may be living +yet, for all you know."</p> + +<p>In her exultation Gipsy first rode over to tell Celeste, then coming +home she seated herself and wrote the following letter to Louis:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="citation">"<span class="smcap">Sunset Hall, St. Mark's</span>,}</p> +<p class="citation">December 23, 18—. }</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Louis</span>: In my last I told you I was the child of your Aunt +Esther, and Alfred Oranmore; since then I have discovered we were +mistaken. My father and yours, Louis, were the same—who my +mother was, I know not; but Aunty Gower has shown me a likeness +found on my father's neck when dead, representing a young and +lovely girl, who must have been my mother; for though the picture +is fair, and I am dark, yet they say they can trace a strong +resemblance between us. It seems I was taken away by the nurse +the night of my birth, and left on the shore, where aunty found +me. What has become of their infant is yet unknown, but it may be +it, too, was saved, and will yet be found. How singularly things +are turning out! Who would ever think we were brother and sister? +Do hasten home, dear Louis, more hearts than one are longing for +your coming. I have a thousand things yet to tell you, but you +know I hate writing, so I will wait until I see you. Your +affectionate <i>sister</i>,</p> + +<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Gipsy</span>."<br /></p> +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE HEIRESS OF SUNSET HALL.</h3> + +<div class="poemblock34"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A perfect woman, nobly planned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To warm, to comfort, and command;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet a spirit still and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With something of an angel light."—<span class="smcap">Wordsworth.</span><br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_t.png" alt="T" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +he darkened rooms, the hushed footfalls, the whispered words, the +anxious faces, betoken the presence of sickness. Like some long, dark +effigy, Miss Hagar lies on her bed, prostrated in body and mind, and +sick unto death. By her side sits Celeste, in a quiet dress of soft +gray, her golden hair lying in bands on her fair cheeks, pale and thin +with long days and nights of unceasing watching.</p></div> + +<p>Never had the tender love and cherishing care of the young girl been so +manifested as in the sick-room of her benefactress. Night and day, like +some angel of mercy, she hovered over the couch of the invalid—ready at +the slightest motion to hold the cup to her parched lips, or bathe her +burning brow. Nothing could induce her to leave her side, save, when +tired Nature could watch no longer, she sought her couch to catch a few +moments' sleep. And Miss Hagar, with the usual fretful waywardness of +illness, would have no one near her but Celeste. Gipsy had offered her +services as assistant nurse, but was most promptly rejected.</p> + +<p>"I want Celeste. Where is Celeste?" was ever the cry of the invalid.</p> + +<p>It was the second week of Miss Hagar's illness. For days she had been +raving deliriously, recognizing no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> one, not even Celeste. Toward the +close of the tenth day she grew worse, and the doctor pronounced the +crisis of her disease at hand.</p> + +<p>Evening was approaching, the evening of a bleak January day. The snow +was falling drearily without; and the cold wind wailed and moaned around +the lonely house. The fire, burning low in the grate, cast a red, +fitful, uncertain light through the room, giving everything an +unearthly, spectral appearance. Celeste sat by the window, her chin +resting on her hand, her eyes fixed on the desolate prospect without, +her mind and heart far away—far away. Her face was wet with tears, but +she knew it not; sobs, long and deep, that she struggled in vain to +repress, swelled her bosom. Never in her life had she felt so utterly +desolate; yet a sort of awe mingled with her tears, as she felt herself +in the presence of death.</p> + +<p>Night fell in storm and darkness. In the deep gloom, nothing could be +discerned save the white; unearthly light of the drifting snow. Celeste +arose, drew the curtain, lit a small lamp, and was about to resume her +seat, when she heard her name pronounced by the lips of the invalid.</p> + +<p>In a moment she was bending over her. Reason had returned to its throne; +and for the first time in many weeks, Miss Hagar recognized her.</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" exclaimed Celeste, joyfully. "Dear Miss Hagar, do you not +know me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Celeste," said the invalid, passing her hand across her +eyes, as if to clear away a mist. "I have been ill, have I not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but now you will recover. I feared you would never speak to me +more; but now you will get well, and we will be happy together once +more."</p> + +<p>"No, child, I will never get well. Something here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> tells me that I am +called," said Miss Hagar, solemnly, laying her hand on her heart. "I am +sinking fast, and perhaps I may never see the morning dawn. I wish I +could see them all before I die. Send for my brother and Archie Rivers, +and little Gipsy, and Minnette! Poor Minnette! I have been harsh to her +sometimes, I am afraid; and I would ask her pardon before I depart. Why +don't you send for them, Celeste?"</p> + +<p>What should she do? What ought she to say? How could she tell her what +had happened?</p> + +<p>"Dear Miss Hagar," she said, gently, "neither the doctor, nor Minnette, +nor Archie, are at home. But if you will see Gipsy, I will go for her."</p> + +<p>"All gone! all gone!" murmured the sick woman, feebly, "scattered far +and wide. But you, Celeste, you have stood by me through all; you have +been the staff and comfort of my old age. May God bless you for it! +Truly has he said: 'Cast thy bread upon the waters, and it shall return +unto thee after many days.' But, child, have you never wondered who you +were; have you never wished to know who were your parents?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, often!" replied Celeste, eagerly, "but I knew, when the proper +time came, you would tell me; so I never asked."</p> + +<p>"Well, that time has come at last. It is but little I can tell; for I +neither know who you are, nor what is your name. The way you came under +my care is simply this:</p> + +<p>"One night, as I was returning home from the village, at an unusually +late hour, a little girl came running out from a wretched hovel, and +begged me to enter with her, for her aunty, as she called her, was +dying. I went in, and found an old woman lying on a heap of rags and +straw, whose end was evidently at hand. I did what I could for her; but +I saw she was sinking fast. Her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> whole care seemed to be for her little +girl, who crouched at the foot of the bed, weeping bitterly. In her +anxiety for her, she seemed to forget her own sufferings.</p> + + +<p>"'What will she do when I am gone? Who will protect her and care for her +in this selfish world?</p> + +<p>"Is she an orphan?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"'That I do not know. The child is a foundling, and no relation to me; +but I love her as though she were my own child. Oh! what will become of +her when I am gone?</p> + +<p>"'And have you no clue to her birth?</p> + +<p>"'None. One Christmas eve, about twelve years ago, my husband was caught +in a storm coming from A——. As he was hurrying along by the shore +road, he saw a sleigh in advance of him, and hastened on in hopes to +overtake it. In his hurry his foot struck against something on the +ground, and he stumbled and fell. As he arose, he turned to examine it; +and judge of his surprise at finding it to be a young infant, wrapped in +a long shawl, and sweetly sleeping. In his astonishment he stood rooted +to the ground, unable to move, and the sleigh passed on, and was soon +out of sight. It was evident to him that the inmates of the sleigh had +either left it there to perish, or it had accidentally fallen out. In +either case, the only thing he could do was to take it home, which he +did; and handed it to me, half frozen, the next morning. Our own little +girl was dead; and this child seemed so like a god-send to fill her +place, that I received it with joy, and resolved to adopt it, if its +parents never claimed it. For months we lived in the constant dread that +it would be taken from us; but years passed on, and no inquiry was ever +made concerning it. We named her Celeste; for there was something truly +celestial in her sweet, angel-like face, and loving nature; and never +did parents love any only child as we did her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'We were in very comfortable circumstances then; but when Celeste was +about eight years old, my husband died; and after that everything seemed +against us. We got poorer and poorer; and I was forced to take in +sewing, to keep us from starving. For nearly four years I worked at +this, stitching away from daylight till dark; and then scarcely able to +keep soul and body together. Celeste assisted me nobly; but at length my +health began to fail, and I resolved to leave the city. My husband's +friends had formerly resided here, and I was in hopes of finding them; +but when I came, I learned that they were all gone. Last night I was +taken dangerously ill; and now I feel that I am dying; and my poor +Celeste will be left utterly friendless and alone. She is beautiful, as +you see; and what her fate may be, should she live to grow up, I dare +not think of. My poor, poor Celeste!</p> + +<p>"The deep affliction of the dying woman, and the heartfelt grief of the +child, touched me deeply. I resolved that the poor orphan should not be +left to struggle alone through the world. I was not rich, but still I +was able to provide for her. In a few brief words I told her my +resolution; and never shall I forget the fervent gratitude that beamed +from the dying eyes, as she listened.</p> + +<p>"'May God forever bless you!' she exclaimed, 'and may the Father of the +fatherless reward you for this!</p> + +<p>"That night she died; and next day she was buried at the expense of the +parish. I took you home; and since then you have been my sole earthly +joy, Celeste; and now that I am dying, I leave you, as a legacy, your +history. Perhaps some day you may yet discover your parents, if they +live."</p> + +<p>Utterly exhausted, Miss Hagar's lips ceased to move. During all the time +she had been speaking, Celeste had remained as if riveted to the spot, +with an emotion un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span>noticed by Miss Hagar. Her pale face grew whiter and +whiter, her eyes were slowly dilating, her lips parted; until, when the +spinster ceased, her head dropped on her hands, while she exclaimed, +half aloud:</p> + +<p>"Can I believe my ears? Then I am that other child left to perish on the +beach that stormy Christmas Eve. Good heavens! Can it be that I am the +child of Esther Erliston? Have I discovered who I am at last?"</p> + +<p>"What are you saying there?" said Miss Hagar, feebly.</p> + +<p>"Miss Hagar!" exclaimed Celeste, starting with sudden energy to her +feet, "I am going to Sunset Hall, for Squire Erliston. You must repeat +this story to him; it concerns him more than you are aware of, and will +clear up a mystery he cannot now penetrate."</p> + +<p>"As you please, child," said Miss Hagar, too weak to resist; "but you +will not stay long?"</p> + +<p>"No; I will be back in less than an hour," replied Celeste, whose cheeks +were now flushed, and her eye burning with excitement, as she seized her +cloak and hood, and hurried into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Curly, their only servant, was dozing in her chair by the hearth. +Rousing her up, Celeste sent her in to watch with her patient until her +return.</p> + +<p>"Remember you must not fall asleep until my return; I will be back very +shortly," said the young mistress, as she tied on her mantle.</p> + +<p>"But laws! misses, you ain't a goin' out in de storm to-night!" said +Curly, opening her eyes in wonder.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I must, for an hour or so. Secure the door, and do not leave Miss +Hagar until I come back," said Celeste, as she opened the door.</p> + +<p>A blinding drift of snow met her in the face; a fierce gust of wind +pierced through her wrappings, and sent the embers on the hearth +whirling redly through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> room. It required all her strength to close +the door after her, but she succeeded, after two or three efforts, and +stepped out into the wild wintry storm.</p> + +<p>At length St. Mark's was reached; and looking up, she could see the +welcome lights of Sunset Hall streaming redly and warmly on the cold, +drifting snow. Elevated above the village, its windows glowing with +light, it looked the very picture of a home of ease and luxury.</p> + +<p>The sight imparted new energy to her drooping limbs; and hurrying still +more rapidly forward, in five minutes more she stood before the +astonished inmates of the hall, all white with falling snow.</p> + +<p>For a wonder Gipsy was at home. She sat gazing into the glowing fire—a +sad, dreamy look on her usually bright, dark face—her little hands +folded listlessly in her lap, thinking of one far away; the squire, +utterly disregarding all the laws of etiquette, was smoking his pipe +placidly in his arm-chair; and Mrs. Gower sat dozing in the chimney +corner; Lizzie had been driven to her chamber by the choking fumes of +the tobacco.</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! Celeste! what has happened? What has brought you out +to-night in this storm?" exclaimed Gipsy, springing in dismay to her +feet, as Celeste—her garments covered with snow-flakes—stood before +them, like a moving frost-maiden.</p> + +<p>The squire, equally dismayed, had taken his pipe from his mouth, and sat +staring at her in utter bewilderment; while Mrs. Gower, roused from her +slumbers, arose from her seat, and drew her over to the fire.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Mrs. Gower, I cannot sit," said Celeste, hurriedly. +"Miss Hagar is dying, and has an important revelation to make to you, +sir. It is necessary you should hear it. Will you accompany me back?" +she said, turning to the squire.</p> + +<p>"Dying! important revelations! Lord bless me!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> ejaculated the squire; +"won't it do to-morrow?" he added, as a wild blast made the windows +rattle. "I don't care about venturing out in this storm."</p> + +<p>"You shall go, Guardy," said Gipsy, rising impetuously, "and I'll go, +too. Sit down and warm yourself, Celeste—we'll be ready in five +minutes. Aunty Gower, please ring for Jupe. Pity if you can't venture +out in the storm, when Celeste has walked here in it to tell you. Jupe," +she added, as that sable individual entered, "be off and bring round the +carriage, and don't be longer than five minutes, at your peril! Here, +Totty! Totty! bring down my hood, and mantle, and furs; and your +master's hat, gloves, and greatcoat. Quick, there!"</p> + +<p>Utterly bewildered by the rapidity with which these orders were given, +the squire, unable to resist, found himself enveloped in his fur-lined +greatcoat, seated in the carriage, between the two girls, ere he found +voice to protest against such summary proceedings.</p> + +<p>The fierceness of the storm, which increased in violence, precluded the +possibility of entering into conversation; and the explanation was, +therefore, of necessity, deferred until they stood safely within the +cozy kitchen of Valley Cottage.</p> + +<p>In a few brief words, Celeste gave them to understand that it concerned +that "other child," left that eventful Christmas eve on the bleak stormy +beach. This was sufficient to rivet their attention; and the squire, in +his anxiety and impatience, forced his way into the sick-room, and stood +by the bedside of Miss Hagar.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to see you so sick, Miss Hagar; 'pon my life I am. I never +expected to see you confined to your bed. Celeste—Miss Pearl, I +mean—has told me you have something of the greatest importance to +communicate to me."</p> + +<p>"I do not see how it can possibly concern you,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> Squire Erliston," said +Miss Hagar, faintly; "but since it is Celeste's desire, I have no +objection to relate to you what I have already told her. Oh!" said the +sufferer, turning over with a groan.</p> + +<p>"Curly, leave the room," said Gipsy, who now entered; while Celeste +tenderly raised the head of the invalid, and held a strengthening +draught to her lips. Brokenly, feebly, and with many interruptions did +the dying woman repeat her tale. Wonder, incredulity, and amazement were +alternately depicted on the countenances of the squire and Gipsy, as +they listened. She ceased at last; and totally exhausted, turned wearily +aside.</p> + +<p>"Then you, Celeste, are that child. You are the heiress of Sunset Hall! +Wonderful! wonderful!" ejaculated Gipsy, pale with breathless interest.</p> + +<p>"And my grandchild!" said the squire, gazing upon her like one +bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Celeste, in a choking voice, "she is dying."</p> + +<p>It was even so. The mysterious shadow of death had fallen on that grim +face, softening its gaunt outline into a look of strange, deep awe. The +eyes had a far-off, mystic gaze, as if striving to behold something dim +and distant.</p> + +<p>All had fallen on their knees, and Celeste's choking sobs alone broke +the silence.</p> + +<p>The sound seemed to disturb Miss Hagar. She turned her face, with a +troubled look, on the grief-bowed head of the young girl.</p> + +<p>"Do not weep for me, Celeste, but for yourself. Who will care for you +when I am dead?"</p> + +<p>"I will!" said the squire, solemnly; "she is my own flesh and blood, and +all that I have is hers. She is the long-lost, the rightful heiress of +Mount Sunset Hall."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span></p> + +<p>A smile of ineffable peace settled on that dying face. "Then I can go in +peace," she said; "my last care is gone. Good-bye, Celeste. God bless +you all! Tell my brother I spoke of him; and ask Minnette to forgive me. +Minnette—Minnette——"</p> + +<p>The words died away. She spoke no more. Her long, weary pilgrimage was +over, and Miss Hagar was at rest.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry—don't cry," said the squire, dashing a tear from his own +eyes, as he stooped over the grief-convulsed form of Celeste. "She's +gone the way of all flesh, the way we must all go some day. Everybody +must die, you know; it's only natural they should. 'In the midst of +death we are in life,' as Solomon says."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> + +<h3>"LAST SCENE OF ALL."</h3> + +<div class="poemblock40"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then come the wild weather, come sleet, or snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We will stand by each other, however it blow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oppression, and sickness, and sorrow, and pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall be to our true love as links to the chain."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> +<p style="margin-left: 65%;"><span class="smcap">Longfellow.</span></p> + +<div class="drop"> +<img src="images/illo_t.png" alt="T" width="100" height="100" class="cap" /> +<p class="cap_1"> +wo months have passed away. It is a balmy, genial day in March. Never +shone the sun brighter, never looked St. Mark's fairer; but within +Sunset Hall all is silent and gloomy. The very servants step around on +tiptoe, with hushed voices and noiseless footfalls. The squire is not in +his usual seat, and the parlor is tenanted only by Gipsy and Celeste. +The former is pacing up and down the room, with a face almost deadly +pale, with sternly-compressed lips, and sad, gloomy eyes. Celeste<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> is +kneeling like one in prayer, her face buried in her hands; she, too, is +pale with awe and horror. To-day, Dr. Wiseman <i>dies on the scaffold</i>. +They needed no evidence to condemn him. Fear seemed to have paralyzed +his cowardly soul, and he confessed all; and from the moment he heard +his sentence, he settled down in a stupor of despair, from which nothing +could arouse him.</p></div> + +<p>The sound of carriage-wheels coming up the avenue roused them both, at +last. Celeste sprang to her feet, and both stood breathless, when the +door opened, and Squire Erliston entered.</p> + +<p>"Well?" came from the eager lips of Gipsy.</p> + +<p>"All is over," said the squire, gloomily, sinking into a seat. "I +visited him in prison, but he did not know me—he only stared at me with +a look of stupid imbecility. I could not arouse him for a long time, +until, at last, I mentioned your name, Gipsy; then he held out his arms +before him, as well as his chains would allow, and cried out, in a voice +of agony I will never forget: 'Keep her off! keep her off! she will +murder me!' Seeing I could do nothing for him, I came away; and in that +state of stupid insensibility, he was launched into eternity."</p> + +<p>Celeste, sick and faint with terror, sank into a seat and covered her +face with her hands, and Gipsy shuddered slightly.</p> + +<p>"And so he has perished—died in his sins," she said, at last. "Once, I +vowed never to forgive him; but I retract that oath. May heaven forgive +him, as I do! And now, I never want to hear his name again."</p> + +<p>"But Minnette, where can she be? Who will tell her of this?" said +Celeste, looking up.</p> + +<p>"It is most strange what can have become of her," said the squire. "I +have spared no pains to discover her, but, so far, all has been in vain. +Heaven alone knows whether she is living or dead."</p> + +<p>"It is like her usual eccentricity," said Gipsy. "I know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> not where she +is, yet I feel a sort of presentiment we will meet her again."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Gipsy, come here," called good Mrs. Gower, one day, about a fortnight +after, as that young lady passed by her room on her way down stairs.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it?" said Gipsy, entering, and standing with her back to +the door.</p> + +<p>"Just look at this likeness; have you ever seen anybody like it?"</p> + +<p>Gipsy took it, and looked long and earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Well," said she, at length, "if I were a little less tawny, and had +blue eyes and yellow hair, I should say it looked remarkably like +myself—only I never, the best of times, had such a pretty face."</p> + +<p>"Well, I was just struck by its resemblance to you. I think it must be +your mother's picture."</p> + +<p>"My mother's picture! My dear Aunty Gower, whatever put such an absurd +notion into your head?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am quite sure it is. Its very resemblance to you proves this; +besides, I found it on your poor father's neck when he was dead."</p> + +<p>"It is a sweet face," said Gipsy, heaving a wistful little sigh. "Who +knows whether the original be living or dead? Oh, Aunty Gower! it may be +that I still have a mother living in some quarter of the globe, who is +ignorant she yet has a daughter alive. If I could only think so I would +travel the world over to find her."</p> + +<p>At this moment Totty burst into the room, her black face all aglow with +delight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, misses! Oh, Misses Sour! Oh, Misses Gipsy! guess who's 'rived," she +breathlessly exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Who? who?" exclaimed both, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Young Marse Louis! he's down in de parlor wid——"</p> + +<p>But without waiting to hear more, Gipsy sprang from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> the room, burst +into the parlor, and beheld Louis standing in the middle of the floor, +and the living counterpart of the picture she had just seen, leaning on +his arm!</p> + +<p>"Gipsy! my sister!" he exclaimed, but before he could advance toward +her, a wild, passionate cry broke from the lips of the strange lady, as +she sprang forward, and clasped the astonished Gipsy in her arms.</p> + +<p>"My daughter! my daughter!" she cried, covering her face with burning +kisses.</p> + +<p>Gipsy grew deadly pale; she strove to speak; but wonder and joy chained +her ever-ready tongue.</p> + +<p>"She is your mother, Gipsy," said Louis, answering her wild look. "I +leave her to explain all to you; your letters first revealed all to me. +But Celeste—where is she?"</p> + +<p>"In the drawing-room, reading," was the reply.</p> + +<p>He hastily quitted the room, and noiselessly opened the drawing-room +door; Celeste was there, but not reading. She was lying on a lounge, her +face hidden in the cushions, her hands clasped over her eyes to repress +her falling tears, her heart yearning for the living and the dead. Her +thoughts were of him she believed far away; what were wealth and honors +to her, without him? Her tears fell fast and faster, while she +involuntarily exclaimed: "Oh, Louis, Louis! where are you now?"</p> + +<p>"Here, by your side, Celeste, never to leave it more!" he answered, +folding her suddenly in his arms.</p> + +<div class="poemblock36"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Twas his own voice, she could not err!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Throughout the breathing world's extent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was but <i>one</i> such voice for her—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So kind, so soft, so eloquent."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>With a wild cry, she unclasped her hands from her eyes and looked +up—looked up to encounter those dear, dark eyes, she had never expected +to see more.</p> + +<p>Great was the surprise of everybody, at this double arrival; and many +were the explanations that followed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was Louis, who had to explain how he had met Madame Evelini, and +how he had learned her story; and how, on reading Gipsy's account of the +tale told by Mrs. Donne, he had known immediately who was her mother. +Then, though the task was a painful one, he was forced to recur to the +fate of Minnette, and set their anxiety as rest about her. She had gone +to Italy with some friends, he said; he met her there, and learned from +her she was about to take the vail, and there they would find her, safe. +Then Gipsy had to recount, at length, all that had transpired since his +departure—which was but briefly touched upon in her letters.</p> + +<p>It was a strange meeting, when the two living wives of the dead husband +stood face to face. Lizzie, too listless and languid to betray much +emotion of any kind, listened with faint curiosity; but tears sprang +into the eyes of Madame Evelini, as she stooped to kiss the pale brow of +the little lady. She refused to be called Mrs. Oranmore; saying that +Lizzie had held the title longest, and it should still be hers.</p> + +<p>"And now there is one other matter to arrange," said Louis, taking the +hand of Celeste; "and that is, your consent to our union. Will you +bestow upon me, sir, the hand of your grandchild?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure, I will," said the squire, joyfully. "I was just going to +propose, myself, that we should end the play with a wedding. We've all +been in the dismals long enough, but a marriage will set us all right +again. Come here, you baggage," turning to Celeste, who was blushing +most becomingly; "will you have this graceless scamp, here, for your +lord and master? He needs somebody to look after him, or he'll be +running to Timbuctoo, or Italy, or some of those heathenish places, +to-morrow or next day—just as he did before. Do you consent to take +charge of him, and keep him in trim for the rest of his life?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ye-es, sir," said Celeste, looking down, and speaking in the slow, +hesitating tone of her childhood.</p> + +<p>"Hooray! there's a sensible answer for you. Now I propose that the +wedding takes place forthwith. Where's the good of losing time? 'Never +delay till to-morrow what you can do to-day,' as Solomon says. What's +your opinion, good folks?"</p> + +<p>"Mine's decidedly the same as yours, sir," said Louis, promptly.</p> + +<p>"Then suppose the affair comes off to-morrow," said the squire, in a +business-like tone.</p> + +<p>"Oh! no, no!" said Celeste, with such a look of alarm, that the others +laughed outright; "a month—two months—"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said the squire, gruffly, "two months indeed—no, nor two +weeks, either. Next Thursday, at the furthest. You can have all your +trumpery ready by that time."</p> + +<p>"You will have to yield, Celeste," said Gipsy. "Just see how imploringly +Louis looks!"</p> + +<p>"That's too soon," said Celeste, still pleading for a reprieve. "I never +could be ready——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you could," cut in Gipsy. "I'll engage to have everything +prepared; and, like Marshal Ney, when I enter the field, the battle is +won. Now, not another word. Louis, can't you make her hold her tongue? +My dear mother, you must try your eloquence."</p> + +<p>"You will have to yield, my dear," said Madame, smiling; "there is no +use attempting to resist this impetuous daughter of mine."</p> + +<p>"Of course there's not," said Gipsy—"everybody does as I tell them. +Now, Louis, take the future Mrs. Oranmore out of this. Aunty Gower and I +have got to lay our heads together (figuratively speaking); for on our +shoulders, I suppose, must devolve all the bother and bustle of +preparation."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gipsy was in her element during the rest of the week.</p> + +<p>The wedding was to be private—the recent death of Miss Hagar and Dr. +Wiseman rendering the country fashion of a ball in the evening out of +the question; but still they had a busy time of it in Sunset Hall. It +was arranged that the newly-wedded pair should go abroad immediately +after their marriage, accompanied by Gipsy and her mother.</p> + +<p>The wedding-day dawned, bright and beautiful, as all wedding-days +should. Celeste wished to be married in the church, and no one thought +of opposing her will. Gipsy stood beside her, robed in white; and if her +face rivaled in pallor the dress she wore, it was thinking of her own +gloomy bridal, and of him who had bade her an eternal farewell that +night. Mrs. Gower was there, looking very fat, and happy, and +respectable, in the venerable brown satin, that was never donned save on +an occasion like the present. Lizzie was there, too, supported by Madame +Evelini, and looking less listless and far more cheerful than she had +been for many a day. There was the squire, looking very pompous and +dogmatical, waiting to give the bride away, and repeating, inwardly, all +the proverbs he could recollect, by way of offering up a prayer for +their happiness. There was Louis, so tall, and stately, and handsome, +looking the very happiest individual in existence. And lastly, there was +our own Celeste—our "Star of the Valley"—sweeter and fairer than ever, +with her blushing face, and drooping eyes, and gentle heart fluttering +with joy and happiness.</p> + +<p>The church was crowded to excess; and a universal buzz of admiration +greeted the bridal pair, as they entered. Beneath the gaze of a hundred +eyes they moved up the aisle, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poemblock50"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Before the altar now they stand—the bridegroom and the bride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who can tell what lovers feel in this, their hour of pride."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>A few words and all was over; and leaning on the arm of the proud and +happy Louis, Celeste received the congratulations of her friends.</p> + +<p>Breakfast awaited them on their return to the hall. Immediately after, +they were to start for Washington; but before departing, Celeste, +turning to Louis, said:</p> + +<p>"Before I go, I would visit the grave of poor Miss Hagar. Come with me."</p> + +<p>It was not far from Sunset Hall. A white marble tombstone marked the +spot, bearing the inscription:</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="smcap">Sacred to the Memory</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><span class="smcap">of</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">HAGAR WISEMAN.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>And underneath were the words:</p> + +<div class="poemblock34"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Tears fell fast from the eyes of Celeste, as she knelt by that lonely +grave; but they were not all tears of sorrow.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"And this is Venice! Bless me! what a queer-looking old place!" +exclaimed Gipsy, lying back amid the cushions of a gondola. "How in the +world do they manage to make everything look so funny? This gondola, or +whatever they call it, is quite a comfortable place to go to sleep in. +I'll bring one of them home to sail on the bay—I will, as sure as +shooting. Maybe it won't astonish the natives, slightly. Well this <i>is</i> +a nice climate, and no mistake. I don't think I'd have any objection to +pitching my tent here, myself. What's this the poet says<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poemblock44"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If woman can make the worst wilderness dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think, think what a heaven she would make of this 'ere!"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>"Oh, what a shame! to parody the 'Light of the Harem,'" said Celeste, +laughing. "But here we are, on land."</p> + +<p>It was the day after their arrival in Venice; and, now, under the +guidance of Louis, they were going, in a body, to visit Minnette.</p> + +<p>They reached the convent, and were admitted by the old portress—who, as +if it were a matter of course, ushered them into the chapel and left +them.</p> + +<p>For a moment, the whole party stood still in awe. The church was hung +with black, and dimly lighted by wax tapers. Clouds of incense filled +the air, and the black-robed figures of the nuns looked like shadows, as +they knelt in prayer. Many strangers were present, but a deep, solemn +hush reigned around.</p> + +<p>The cause of all this was soon explained. At the foot of the altar, +robed in her nun's dress, the lifeless form of one of the sisterhood lay +in state. The beautiful face, shaded by the long, black vail, wore an +expression of heavenly peace; the white hands clasped a crucifix to the +cold breast. A nun stood at her head, and another at her feet—holding +lighted tapers in their hands—so still and motionless, that they +resembled statues.</p> + +<p><i>It was Minnette!</i> Their hearts almost ceased to beat, as they gazed. +The look of deep calm—of child-like rest—on her face, forbade sorrow, +but inspired awe. More lovely, and far more gentle than she had ever +looked in life, she lay, with a smile still wreathing the sweet, +beautiful lips. The blind eyes saw at last.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, the deep, solemn stillness was broken, by the low, mournful +wail of the organ; and like a wild cry, many voices chanted forth the +dirge:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poemblock24"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Dies irae, dies illa</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Solvet saeclum in favilla.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Pie Jesu Dominie,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Dona eis requiem.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Not one heart there, but echoed the burden of the grand old hymn:</p> + +<div class="poemblock28"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lord of mercy—Jesus blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grant thy servant light and rest!"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>"Let us go—this scene is too much for you," said Louis, as Celeste +clung, pale and trembling, to his arm. And together they quitted the +convent.</p> + +<p>They were followed by one, who, leaning against a pillar, had watched +them intently all the time. He stepped after them into the street; and +Louis, suddenly looking up, beheld him.</p> + +<p>"Archie!" he cried, in a tone of mingled amazement and delight.</p> + +<p>A stifled shriek broke from the lips of Gipsy, at the name. Yes, it was +indeed our old friend Archie—no longer the laughing, fun-loving Archie +of other days, but looking pale, and thin, and almost stern.</p> + +<p>"O, <i>dear</i> Archie! how glad I am to see you again!" exclaimed Celeste, +seizing one of his hands, while Louis wrung the other; and Gipsy drew +back, turning first red, and then pale, and then red again. Madame +Evelini, alone, looked very much puzzled what to make of the whole +affair.</p> + +<p>"Surely, you have not forgotten your old friend, Gipsy?" said Louis, at +last, stepping aside and placing them face to face.</p> + +<p>"I am happy to meet you again, Mrs. Wiseman," said Archie, bowing +coldly.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you <i>are</i>," said Louis, looking at him with a doubtful +expression, "your looks most confoundedly belie your words. Let me +present you to Madame Evelini, Mrs. Wiseman's mother."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Her mother!" cried the astonished Archie.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. Surely, you don't mean to say you have not heard of the +strange events that have lately taken place at St. Mark's?"</p> + +<p>"Even so; I am in a state of most lamentable ignorance. I pray you, +enlighten me."</p> + +<p>"What! have you not even heard that your uncle—Dr. Wiseman—and Miss +Hagar were dead?"</p> + +<p>"Dead!" said Archie, starting, and looking at Gipsy, whose face was now +hidden by her vail.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I see you know nothing about it. Come home with us, and you +shall hear all."</p> + +<p>"Yes, do," urged Celeste; "Louis and I will be delighted to have you +join us."</p> + +<p>"Louis and <i>I</i>," repeated Archie, rather mischievously; "then I perceive +I have the honor of addressing Mrs. Oranmore."</p> + +<p>Of course, Celeste laughed and blushed, according to the rule in such +cases. But the scene they had just witnessed had saddened the whole +party; and the journey back was performed in silence. Gipsy was the +gravest of all; and, leaning back in the gondola, with her vail over her +face, she never condescended to open her lips, save when directly +addressed; and then her answers were much shorter than sweet.</p> + +<p>But when they went home, to their hotel, and everything was explained, +and he had learned how Gipsy had been forced into a marriage she +abhorred, and the terrible retribution that befell the murderer, matters +began to assume a different appearance. Mr. Rivers had long been of the +opinion that "it is not good for man to be alone," and firmly believed +in the scriptural injunction of becoming a husband of one wife; and +concluded, by proposing in due form to Gipsy—who, after some pressing, +consented to make him happy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But not till we go home," was the reply to all his entreaties. "I'm +just going to get married at dear old St. Mark's, and no place else; and +give Aunty Gower a chance to give her brown satin dress another +airing—as ours is likely to be the last wedding at Sunset Hall for some +time, unless Guardy takes it into his head to get married. Now, you +needn't coax; I won't have you till we get home, that's flat." And to +this resolution she adhered, in spite of all his persuasions.</p> + +<p>The bridal tour was, of necessity, much shortened by the desperate haste +of Archie—who, like the man with the cork leg, seemed unable to rest in +any place; and tore like a comet through Europe, and breathed not freely +until they stood once more on American soil.</p> + +<p>And three weeks after, a wedding took place at St. Mark's, that +surpassed everything of the kind that had ever been heard of before. +Good Aunty Gower was in ecstasies; and the squire, before the party +dispersed, full of champagne and emotion, arose to propose a toast.</p> + +<p>"Ladies and fellow-citizens: On the present interesting occasion, I rise +to"—here the speaker took a pinch of snuff—"I rise to"—here a violent +sneeze interrupted him, and drew from him the involuntary remark: "Lord! +what a cold I've got!—as I was saying, I rise to propose the health and +happiness of the bride and bridegroom;" (cheers) "like the flag of our +native land, long may they wave!" (desperate cheering). "Marriage, like +liberty, is a great institution; and I would advise every single man +present to try it. If he has heretofore given up the idea, let him pluck +up courage and try again. 'Better late than never,' as Solomon says."</p> + + +<h4>THE END.</h4> + + +<div class="tnote"> + +<h3>Transcriber's Note</h3> + +<p>Punctuation errors have been corrected.</p> + +<p>The following suspected printer's errors have been addressed.</p> + +<p>Page 42. excssses changed to excesses.<br /> +(these excesses at last)</p> + +<p>Page 47. missing word 'to' added.<br /> +(not long to wait)</p> + +<p>Page 57. besure changed to be sure.<br /> +(to be sure you will)</p> + +<p>Page 60. natter changed to matter.<br /> +(what's the matter?" said Lizzie)</p> + +<p>Page 94. inignantly changed to indignantly.<br /> +(indignantly exclaimed Gipsy)</p> + +<p>Page 121. necesstiy changed to necessity.<br /> +(there's no necessity)</p> + +<p>Page 126. vanishsd changed to vanished.<br /> +(looks of surprise vanished)</p> + +<p>Page 132. she changed to he.<br /> +(For a moment he expected)</p> + +<p>Page 188. But changed to Out.<br /> +(Out with the boats)</p> + +<p>Page 194. duplicate word 'he' removed.<br /> +(after he had answered)</p> + +<p>Page 225. momory changed to memory.<br /> +(by the memory of all)</p> + +<p>Page 275. gilt changed to gift.<br /> +(his parting gift)</p> + +<p>Page 281. absense changed to absence.<br /> +(me during your absence)</p> + +<p>Page 283. under changed to until.<br /> +(you did love me, until this)</p> + +<p>Page 289. woman changed to women.<br /> +(when two jealous women love each other)</p> + +<p>Page 309. object changed to objects.<br /> +(an old man objects to your want)</p> + +<p>Page 384. guardy changed to Guardy.<br /> +(unless Guardy takes it into his head)</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sharing Her Crime, by May Agnes Fleming + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHARING HER CRIME *** + +***** This file should be named 35462-h.htm or 35462-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/4/6/35462/ + +Produced by Brenda Lewis, woodie4 and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sharing Her Crime + +Author: May Agnes Fleming + +Release Date: March 3, 2011 [EBook #35462] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHARING HER CRIME *** + + + + +Produced by Brenda Lewis, woodie4 and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + POPULAR NOVELS. + BY MAY AGNES FLEMING. + + 1.--GUY EARLSCOURT'S WIFE. + 2.--A WONDERFUL WOMAN. + 3.--A TERRIBLE SECRET. + 4.--NORINE'S REVENGE. + 5.--A MAD MARRIAGE. + 6.--ONE NIGHT'S MYSTERY. + 7.--KATE DANTON. + 8.--SILENT AND TRUE. + 9.--HEIR OF CHARLTON. + 10.--CARRIED BY STORM. + 11.--LOST FOR A WOMAN. + 12.--A WIFE'S TRAGEDY. + 13.--A CHANGED HEART. + 14.--PRIDE AND PASSION. + 15.--SHARING HER CRIME (_New_). + + + "Mrs. Fleming's stories are growing more and more popular every day. + Their delineations of character, life-like conversations, flashes of + wit, constantly varying scenes, and deeply interesting plots, + combine to place their author in the very first rank of Modern + Novelists." + + + All published uniform with this volume. Price, $1.50 + each, and sent _free_ by mail on receipt of price, + + BY + G. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishers, + New York. + + + + + SHARING + HER CRIME. + + A Novel. + + BY + MAY AGNES FLEMING, + + AUTHOR OF + + "GUY EARLSCOURT'S WIFE," "A TERRIBLE SECRET," "SILENT AND TRUE," + "A WONDERFUL WOMAN," "LOST FOR A WOMAN," + "ONE NIGHT'S MYSTERY," "A MAD MARRIAGE," + ETC., ETC. + + "A perfect woman, nobly planned, + To warn, to comfort, and command; + And yet a spirit still and bright, + With something of an angel light." + + + NEW YORK: Copyright, 1882, by + _G. W. Carleton & Co., Publishers_. + + LONDON: S. LOW & CO. + MDCCCLXXXIII. + + + Stereotyped by + SAMUEL STODDER, + 90 ANN STREET, N. Y. + + TROW + PRINTING AND BOOK BINDING CO., + N. Y. + + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. The Plotters 7 + + II. The Death of Esther 18 + + III. The Astrologer 24 + + IV. Barry Oranmore 29 + + V. Mount Sunset Hall 37 + + VI. Lizzie's Lover 49 + + VII. The Cypress Wreath 62 + + VIII. Gipsy 70 + + IX. A Storm at Mount Sunset Hall 82 + + X. Miss Hagar 91 + + XI. Gipsy Outwits the Squire 101 + + XII. The Tigress and the Dove 109 + + XIII. Gipsy Astonishes the Natives 119 + + XIV. The Moonlight Flitting 130 + + XV. The "Star of the Valley." 139 + + XVI. Our Gipsy 150 + + XVII. Gipsy's Return to Sunset Hall 158 + + XVIII. Archie 169 + + XIX. Gipsy's Daring 182 + + XX. The Sailor Boy's Doom 191 + + XXI. The Spider Weaves his Web 204 + + XXII. Fetters for the Eaglet 215 + + XXIII. The Bird Caged 222 + + XXIV. May and December 235 + + XXV. Archie's Lost Love 246 + + XXVI. Louis 254 + + XXVII. Love at First Sight 267 + + XXVIII. "The Old, Old Story." 277 + + XXIX. The Rivals 287 + + XXX. Gipsy Hunts New Game 296 + + XXXI. Celeste's Trial 306 + + XXXII. "The Queen of Song." 318 + + XXXIII. A Startling Discovery 328 + + XXXIV. Light in the Darkness 334 + + XXXV. The Death-bed Confession 341 + + XXXVI. Retribution 351 + + XXXVII. Another Surprise 357 + + XXXVIII. The Heiress of Sunset Hall 364 + + XXXIX. "Last Scene of All." 373 + + + + + +SHARING HER CRIME. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE PLOTTERS. + + + "'Tis a woman hard of feature, + Old, and void of all good nature. + 'Tis an ugly, envious shrew, + Railing forever at me and you."--POPE. + +It was Christmas Eve. All day long crowds of gayly dressed people had +walked the streets, basking in the bright wintry sunshine. Sleigh after +sleigh went dashing past, with merrily jingling bells, freighted with +rosy cheeks, and bright eyes, and youthful faces, all aglow with +happiness. + +But the sun must set on Christmas Eve, as on all other days; and redly, +threateningly, angrily, he sank down in the far west. Dark, sullen +clouds came rolling ominously over the heavens; the wind blew piercingly +cold, accompanied with a thin, drizzling rain that froze ere it fell. + +Gradually the streets were deserted as the storm increased in fury; but +the Yule logs were piled high, the curtains drawn, and every house, +_save one_, in the handsome street to which my story leads me, was all +aglow, all ablaze with light. + +In a lull of the storm the sounds of music and merry-making would rise +and swell on the air, as light feet tripped merrily amid the mazes of +the dance; or a silvery peal of laughter would break easily on the +wayfarer's ear. The reflection of the light through the crimson curtains +shed a warm, rosy glow over the snowy ground, brightening the gloom of +that stormy winter's night. + +But rising dark, grim, and gloomy amid those gayly lighted mansions, +stood a large, quaint building of dark-red sandstone. It stood by +itself, spectral, shadowy, and grand. No ray of light came from the +gloomy windows that seemed to be hermetically sealed. All around was +stern, black, and forbidding. + +And yet--yes, from one solitary window there _did_ stream a long, thin +line of light. But even this did not look bright and cheerful like the +rest; it had a cold, yellowish glare, making the utter blackness of the +rest of the mansion blacker still by contrast. + +The room from which the light issued was high and lofty. The uncarpeted +floor was of black polished oak, as also were the wainscoting and +mantel. The walls were covered with landscape paper, representing the +hideous Dance of Death, in all its variety of frightful forms. The high +windows were hung with heavy green damask, now black with dirt and age. +A large circular table of black marble stood in one shadowy corner, and +a dark, hard sofa, so long and black that it resembled a coffin, stood +in the other. + +A smoldering sea-coal fire, the only cheerful thing in that gloomy room, +struggled for life in the wide, yawning chimney. Now it would die away, +enveloping the apartment in gloom, and anon flame fitfully up, until the +ghostly shadows on the wall would seem like a train of ghastly specters +flitting by in the darkness. The elm trees in front of the house trailed +their long arms against the window with a sound inexpressibly dreary; +and the driving hail beat clamorously, as if for admittance. + +On either side of the fire-place stood two large easy-chairs, cushioned +with deep crimson velvet. In these, facing each other, sat two +persons--a man and a woman--the only occupants of the room. + +The woman was tall, straight, and stiff, and seemingly about fifty years +of age. Her dress was a rustling black satin, with a small crape +handkerchief fastened on her bosom with a magnificent diamond pin. Her +hands, still small and white, were flashing with jewels as they lay +quietly folded in her lap. A widow's cap rested on her head, which was +alternately streaked with gray and jet. But her face--so stern, so +rigid, no one could look upon it without a feeling of fear. The lips--so +thin that she seemed to have no lips at all--were compressed with a look +of unswerving determination. Her forehead was low and retreating, with +thick black eyebrows meeting across the long, sharp nose, with a look at +once haughty and sinister. And from under those midnight brows glittered +and gleamed a pair of eyes so small, so sharp and keen--with such a look +of cold, searching, _steely_ brightness--that the boldest gaze might +well quail before them. On that grim, hard face no trace of womanly +feeling seemed ever to have lingered--all was stern, harsh, and +freezingly cold. She sat rigidly erect in her chair, with her +needle-like eyes riveted immovably on the face of her companion, who +shifted with evident uneasiness beneath her uncompromising stare. + +He was a man of forty, or thereabouts, so small of stature that, +standing side by side, he could scarcely have reached the woman's +shoulder. But, notwithstanding his diminutive size, his limbs were +disproportionately large for his body, giving him the appearance of +being all legs and arms. His little, round bullet-head was set on a +prodigiously thick, bull-like neck; and his hair, short, and bristling +up over his head, gave him very much the look of the sun, as pictured in +the almanacs. + +This prepossessing gentleman was arrayed in an immaculate suit of black, +with a spotless white dickey, bristling with starch and dignity, and a +most excruciating cravat. Half a dozen rings garnished his claw-like +hands, and a prodigious quantity of watch-chain dangled from his vest. +The worthy twain were engaged in deep and earnest conversation. + +"Well, doctor," said the lady, in a cold, measured tone, that was +evidently habitual, "no doubt you are wondering why I sent for you in +such haste to-night." + +"I never wonder, madam," said the doctor, in a pompous tone--which, +considering his size, was quite imposing. "No doubt you have some +excellent reason for sending for me, which, if necessary for me to know, +you will explain." + +"You are right, doctor," said the lady, with a grim sort of smile. "I +_have_ an excellent reason for sending for you. You are fond of money, I +know." + +"Why, madam, although it is the root of all evil----" + +"Tush, man! There is no need for Satan to quote Scripture just now," she +interrupted with a sneer. "Say, doctor, what would you do to earn five +hundred dollars to-night?" + +"Five hundred dollars?" said the doctor, his small eyes sparkling, while +a gleam of satisfaction lighted up his withered face. + +"Yes," said the lady, "and if well done, I may double the sum. What +would you do for such a price?" + +"Rather ask me what I would _not_ do." + +"Well, the job is an easy one. 'Tis but to----" + +She paused, and fixed her eyes on his face with such a wild sort of +gleam that, involuntarily, he quailed before her. + +"Pray go on, madam. I'm all attention," he said, almost fearing to break +the dismal silence. "'Tis but to--_what_?" + +"Make away with--a woman and child!" + +"Murder them?" said the doctor, involuntarily recoiling. + +"Do not use that word!" she said, sharply. "Coward! do you really blanch +and draw back! Methought one of your profession would not hesitate to +send a patient to heaven." + +"But, madam," said the startled doctor, "you know the penalty which the +law awards for murder." + +"Oh, I perceive," said the woman, scornfully, "it is not the crime you +are thinking of, but your own precious neck. Fear not, my good friend; +there is no danger of its ever being discovered." + +"But, my _dear_ madam," said the doctor, glancing uneasily at the stern, +bitter face before him, "I have not the nerve, the strength, nor +the----" + +"_Courage!_" she broke in, passionately. "Oh, craven--weak, +chicken-hearted, miserable craven! Go, then--leave me, and I will do it +myself. You dare not betray me--you _could_ not without bringing your +neck to the halter--so I fear you not. Oh, coward! coward! why did not +heaven make _me_ a man?" + +In her fierce outburst of passion she arose to her feet, and her tall +figure loomed up like some unnaturally large, dark shadow. The man +quailed in fear before her. + +"Go!" she said, fiercely, pointing to the door, "You have refused to +_share my crime_. Go! poor cowardly poltroon! but remember, Madge +Oranmore never forgives nor forgets!" + +"But, my dear Mrs. Oranmore, just listen to me one moment," said the +doctor, alarmed by this threat. "I have not refused, I only objected. If +you will have the goodness to explain--to tell me what I must do, I +will--see about it." + +"See about it!" hastily interrupted the lady. "You _can_ do it--it is in +your power; and yes, or no, must be your answer, immediately." + +"But----" + +"No buts, sir. I will not have them. If you answer yes, one thousand +dollars and my future patronage shall be yours. If you say no, yonder is +the door; and once you have crossed the threshold, beware! Now, Doctor +Wiseman, I await your reply." + +She seated herself again in her chair; and, folding her hands in her +lap, fixed her hawk-like eyes on his face, with her keen, searching +gaze. His eyes were bent in troubled thought on the floor. Not that the +crime appalled him; but if detected--_that_ was the rub. Doctor Wiseman +was, as his name implies, a man of sense, with an exceedingly +accommodating conscience, that would stretch _ad libitum_, and never +troubled him with any such nonsense as remorse. But if it were +discovered! With rather unpleasant vividness, the vision of a hangman +and halter arose before him, and he involuntarily loosened his cravat. +Still, one thousand dollars _were_ tempting. Doctor Nicholas Wiseman had +never been so perplexed in his life. + +"Well, doctor, well," impatiently broke in the lady, "have you +decided--_yes_ or _no_?" + +"Yes," said the doctor, driven to desperation by her sneering tone. + +"'Tis well," she replied, with a mocking smile, "I knew you were too +sensible a man to refuse. After all, 'tis but a moment's work, and all +is over." + +"Will you be good enough to give me the explanation now, madam?" said +the doctor, almost shuddering at the cold, unfeeling tone in which she +spoke. + +"Certainly. You are aware, doctor, that when I married my late husband, +Mr. Oranmore, he was a widower with one son, then three years old." + +"I am aware of that fact, madam." + +"Well, you also know that when this child, Alfred, was five years of +age, _my_ son, Barry, was born." + +"Yes, madam." + +"Perhaps you think it unnecessary for me to go so far back, doctor, but +I wish everything to be perfectly understood. Well, these two boys grew +up together, were sent to school and college together, and treated in +every way alike, _outwardly_; but, of course, when at home, Barry was +treated best. Alfred Oranmore had all the pride of his English +forefathers, and scorned to complain; but I could see, in his flashing +eyes and curling lips, that every slight was noticed. Mr. Oranmore never +interfered with me in my household arrangements, nor did his son ever +complain to him; though, if he had, Mr. Oranmore had too much good sense +to mention it to _me_." + +The lady compressed her lips with stately dignity, and the doctor looked +down with something as near a smile as his wrinkled lips could wear. +_He_ knew very well Mr. Oranmore would not have interfered; for never +after his marriage had the poor man dared to call his soul his own. The +lady, however, did not perceive the smile, and went on: + +"When Barry left college, he expressed a desire to travel for two or +three years on the Continent; and I readily gave him permission, for Mr. +Oranmore was then dead. Alfred was studying law, and I knew his dearest +wish was to travel; but, as a matter of course, it was out of the +question for _him_ to go. I told him I could not afford it, that it +would cost a great deal to pay Barry's expenses, and that he must give +up all idea of it. Barry went, and Alfred staid; though, as things +afterward turned out, it would have been better had I allowed him to +go." + +Her eyes flashed, and her brows knit with rising anger, as she +continued; + +"You know old Magnus Erliston--Squire Erliston, as they call him. You +know also how very wealthy he is reputed to be--owning, besides the +magnificent estate of Mount Sunset, a goodly portion of the village of +St. Mark's. Well, Squire Erliston has two daughters, to the eldest of +whom, in accordance with the will of his father (from whom he received +the property), Mount Sunset Hall will descend. Before my husband's +death, I caused him to will his whole property to my son Barry, leaving +Alfred penniless. Barry's fortune, therefore, is large, though far from +being as enormous as that Esther Erliston was to have. Well, the squire +and I agreed that, as soon as Barry returned from Europe they should be +married, and thus unite the estates of Oranmore and Erliston. Neither +Barry nor Esther, with the usual absurdity of youth, would agree to this +arrangement; but, of course, their objection mattered little. I knew I +could easily manage Barry by the power of my stronger will; and the +squire, who is rough and blustering, could, without much difficulty, +frighten Esther into compliance--when all our schemes were suddenly +frustrated by that meddler, that busy-body, Alfred Oranmore." + +She paused, and again her eyes gleamed with concentrated hatred and +passion. + +"He went to Mount Sunset, and by some means met Esther Erliston. Being +what romantic writers would call one of 'nature's princes,' he easily +succeeded in making a fool of her; they eloped, were married secretly, +and Squire Erliston woke up one morning to learn that his dainty heiress +had abandoned papa for the arms of a _beggar_, and was, as the wife of a +penniless lawyer, residing in the goodly city of Washington. + +"Pretty Esther doubtless imagined that she had only to throw herself at +papa's feet and bathe them with her tears, to be received with open +arms. But the young lady found herself slightly mistaken. Squire +Erliston stamped, and raged, and swore, and frightened every one in St. +Mark's out of their wits; and then, calming down, 'vowed a vow' never to +see or acknowledge his daughter more. Esther was then eighteen. If she +lived to reach her majority, Mount Sunset would be hers in spite of him. +But the squire had vowed that before she should get it, he would burn +Sunset Hall to the ground and plow the land with salt. Now, doctor, I +heard that, and set myself to work. Squire Erliston has a younger +daughter; and I knew that, if Esther died, that younger daughter would +become heiress to all the property, and she would then be just as good a +wife for Barry as her sister. Well, I resolved that Esther should no +longer stand in my way, that she should never live to reach her +majority. Start not, doctor, I see that you do not yet know Madge +Oranmore." + +She looked like a very fiend, as she sat smiling grimly at him from her +seat. + +"Fortune favored me," she continued. "Alfred Oranmore, with two or three +other young men, going out one day for a sail, was overtaken by a sudden +squall--they knew little about managing a boat, and all on board were +drowned. I read it in the papers and set out for Washington. After much +difficulty I discovered Esther in a wretched boarding-house; for, after +her husband's death, all their property was taken for debt. She did not +know me, and I had little difficulty in persuading her to accompany me +home. Three days ago we arrived. I caused a report to be circulated at +Washington that the wife of the late Alfred Oranmore had died in great +poverty and destitution. The story found its way into the papers; I sent +one containing the account of her death to Squire Erliston; so all +trouble in that quarter is over." + +"And _Esther_?" said the doctor, in a husky whisper. + +"Of her we will speak by and by," said the lady, with a wave of her +hand; "at present I must say a few words of my son Barry. Three weeks +ago he returned home; but has, from some inexplicable cause, refused to +reside here. He boards now in a distant quarter of the city. Doctor, +what says the world about this--is there any reason given?" + +"Well, yes, madam," said the doctor, with evident reluctance. + +"And what is it, may I ask?" + +"I fear, madam, you will be offended." + +"'Sdeath! man, go on!" she broke in passionately. "What sayeth the +far-seeing, all-wise world of him?" + +"'Tis said he has brought a wife with him from Europe, whom he wishes to +conceal." + +"Ha! ha!" laughed the lady, scornfully. "Yes, I heard it too--a +barefooted bog-trotter, forsooth! But 'tis false, doctor! false, I tell +you! You must contradict the report everywhere you hear it. That any one +should dare to say that my son--my proud, handsome Barry--would marry a +potato-eating Biddy! Oh! but for my indignation I could laugh at the +utter absurdity." + +But the fierce gleam of her eye, and the passionate clenching of her +hand, bespoke her in anything but a laughing humor. + +"I would not for worlds this report should reach Lizzie Erliston," she +said, somewhat more calmly. "And speaking of her brings me back to her +sister. Doctor, Esther Oranmore lies in yonder room." + +He startled slightly, and glanced uneasily in the direction, but said +nothing. + +"Doctor," continued Mrs. Oranmore, in a low, stern, impressive voice, +while her piercing eyes seemed reading his very soul, "_she must never +live to see the sun rise again_!" + +"Madam!" he exclaimed, recoiling suddenly. + +"You hear me, doctor, and you _must_ obey. She must not live to see +Christmas morning dawn." + +"Would you have me murder her?" he inquired, in a voice quivering +between fear and horror. + +"If you will call it by that name, yes," she replied, still keeping her +blazing eyes fixed immovably on his face. "She and her child must die." + +"Her child!" + +"Yes, come and see it. The night of its birth must be that of its +death." + +She rose, and making a motion for him to follow her, led the way from +the apartment. Opening a heavy oaken door, she ushered him into a dim +bed-room, furnished with a lounge, a square bedstead, whose dark drapery +gave it the appearance of a hearse, and a small table covered with +bottles and glasses. Going to the lounge, she pointed to something +wrapped in a large shawl. He bent down, and the faint wail of an infant +met his ear. + +"_She_ is yonder," said the lady, pointing to the bed; "examine these +bottles; she will ask you for a drink, _give_ it to her--you understand! +Remember, you have promised." And before he could speak, she glided from +the room. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE DEATH OF ESTHER. + + + "What shrieking spirit in that bloody room + Its mortal frame hath violently quitted? + Across the moonbeam, with a sudden gleam, + A ghostly shadow flitted."--HOOD. + +For a moment he stood still, stunned and bewildered. Understand? Yes, he +understood her too well. + +He approached the bed, and softly drew back the heavy, dark curtains. +Lying there, in a troubled sleep, lay a young girl, whose face was +whiter than the pillow which supported her. Her long hair streamed in +wild disorder over her shoulders, and added to the wanness of her pale +face. + +She moaned and turned restlessly on her pillow, and opened a pair of +large, wild eyes, and fixed them on the unprepossessing face bending +over her. With lips and eyes opened with terror, she lay gazing, until +he said, in as gentle a voice as he could assume; + +"Do not be afraid of me--I am the doctor. Can I do anything for you, +child?" + +"Yes, yes," she replied, faintly; "give me a drink." + +He turned hastily toward the table, feeling so giddy he could scarcely +stand. A tiny vial, containing a clear, colorless liquid, attracted his +eye. He took it up and examined it, and setting his teeth hard together, +poured its contents into a glass. Then filling it with water he +approached the bed, and raising her head, pressed it to her lips. His +hand trembled so he spilt it on the quilt. The young girl lifted her +wild, troubled eyes, and fixed them on his face with a gaze so long and +steady that his own fell beneath it. + +"Drink!" he said, hoarsely, still pressing it to her lips. + +Without a word she obeyed, draining it to the last drop. Then laying her +back on the pillow, he drew the curtain and left the room. + +Mrs. Oranmore was sitting, as she had sat all the evening, stern and +upright in her chair. She lifted her keen eyes as he entered, and +encountered a face so pallid and ghastly that she almost started. Doctor +Wiseman tottered rather than walked to a seat. + +"Well?" she said, inquiringly. + +"Well," he replied, hoarsely, "I have obeyed you." + +"That _is_ well. But pray, Doctor Wiseman, take a glass of wine; you are +positively trembling like a whipped schoolboy. Go to the sideboard; nay, +do not hesitate; _it_ is not poisoned." + +Her withering sneer did more toward reviving him than any wine could +have done. His excitement was gradually cooling down beneath those calm, +steady eyes, bent so contemptuously upon him. + +He drank a glass of wine, and resumed his seat before the fire, watching +sullenly the dying embers. + +"Well, you have performed your task?" + +"I have, madam, and earned my reward." + +"Not quite, doctor; the infant is yet to be disposed of." + +"Must it die, too?" + +"Yes, but not here. You must remove it, in any way you please, but death +is the safest, the surest." + +"And why not here?" + +"Because I do not wish it," she answered, haughtily; "that is enough for +you, sirrah! You must take the child away to-night." + +"What shall I do with it?" + +"Dolt! blockhead! have you no brains?" she said, passionately. "Are you +aware ten minutes' walk will bring you to the sea-side? Do you know the +waves refuse nothing, and tell no tales? Never hesitate, man! You have +gone too far to draw back. Think of the reward; one thousand dollars for +ten minutes' work! Tush, doctor! I protest, you're trembling like a +nervous girl." + +"Is it not enough to make one tremble?" retorted the doctor, roused to +something like passion by her deriding tone; "two murders in one +night--is that _nothing_?" + +"Pshaw! no--a sickly girl and a puling child more or less in the world +is no great loss. Hark!" she added, rising suddenly, as a wild, piercing +shriek of more than mortal agony broke from the room where Esther lay. +"Did you hear that?" + +Hear it! The man's face was horribly ghastly and livid, as shriek after +shriek, wild, piercing, and shrill with anguish, burst upon his ear. +Great drops of perspiration stood on his brow--his teeth chattered as +though by an ague fit, and he trembled so perceptibly that he was forced +to grasp the chair for support. + +Not so the woman. She stood calm, listening with perfect composure to +the agonizing cries, that were growing fainter and fainter each moment. + +"It is well none of the servants are in this end of the house," she +said, quietly; "or those loud screams would be overheard, and might +give rise to disagreeable remarks." + +Receiving no answer from her companion, she turned to him, and seeing +the look of horror on his ghastly face, her lip curled with involuntary +scorn. It was strange she could stand there so unmoved, knowing herself +to be a murderess, with the dying cries of her victim still ringing in +her ears. + +They ceased at last--died away in a low, despairing moan, and then all +grew still. The deep, solemn silence was more appalling than her shrieks +had been, for they well knew they were stilled forever in death. + +"All is over!" said Mrs. Oranmore, drawing a deep breath. + +"Yes," was the answer, in a voice so hoarse and unnatural, that it +seemed to issue from the jaws of death. + +Again she looked at him, and again the mocking smile curled her lip. + +"Doctor," she said, quietly, "you are a greater coward than I ever took +you to be. I am going in now to see her--you had better follow me, if +you are not _afraid_." + +How sardonic was the smile which accompanied these words. Stunned, +terrified as he was, it stung him, and he started after her from the +room. + +They entered the chamber of the invalid. Mrs. Oranmore walked to the +bed, drew back the curtains, and disclosed a frightful spectacle. + +Half sitting, half lying, in a strange, distorted attitude she had +thrown herself into in her dying agony, her lips swollen and purple, her +eyes protruding, her hair torn fiercely out by the roots, as she had +clutched it in her fierce anguish, was Esther. + +The straining eyeballs were ghastly to look upon--the once beautiful +face was now swollen and hideous, as she lay stark dead in that lonely +room. + +Moment after moment passed away, while the murderers stood silently +gazing on their victim. The deep silence of midnight was around--nothing +was heard save the occasional drifting of the snow against the windows. + +A stern, grave smile hovered on the lips of Mrs. Oranmore, as she gazed +on the convulsed face of the dead girl. Drawing the quilt at last over +her, she turned away, saying, mockingly: + +"Where now, Esther Oranmore, is the beauty of which you were so proud? +This stark form and ghastly face is now all that remains of the beauty +and heiress of Squire Erliston. Such shall be the fate, sooner or later, +of all who dare to thwart me." + +Her eyes flamed upon the shrinking man beside her, with an expression +that made him quake. A grim smile of self-satisfied power broke over her +dark face as she observed it, and her voice had a steely tone of +command, as she said: + +"Now for the child. It must be immediately disposed of." + +"And _she_?" said the doctor, pointing to the bed. + +"I shall attend to that." + +"If you like, madam, I will save you the trouble." + +"No, sir," she replied, sharply; "though in life my enemy, her remains +shall never be given up to the dissecting-knife. I have not forgotten +she is a gentleman's daughter, and as such she shall be interred. Now +you may go. Wrap the child in this, and--_return without her_!" + +"You shall be obeyed, madam," said Doctor Wiseman, catching the +infection of her reckless spirit. He stooped and raised the infant, who +was still in a deep sleep. + +Muffling it carefully in the shawl, he followed the lady from the room, +and cautiously quitted the house. + +The storm had now passed away; the piercing wind had died out, and the +midnight moon sailed in unclouded majesty through the deep blue sky, +studded with myriads of burning stars. + +The cool night air restored him completely to himself. + +Holding the still sleeping infant closer in his arms, he hurried on, +until he stood on the sloping bank commanding a view of the bay. + +The tide was rising. The waves came splashing in on the beach--the white +foam gleaming coldly brilliant in the moonlight. The waters beyond +looked cold, and sluggish, and dark--moaning in a strange, dreary way as +they swept over the rocks. How _could_ he commit the slumbering infant +to those merciless waves? Depraved and guilty as he was, he hesitated. +It lay so confidingly in his arms, slumbering so sweetly, that his heart +smote him. Yet it must be done. + +He descended carefully to the beach, and laying his living bundle on the +snowy sands, stood like Hagar, a distance off, to see it die. + +In less than ten minutes, he knew, the waves would have washed it far +away. + +As he stood, with set teeth and folded arms, the merry jingle of +approaching sleigh-bells broke upon his startled ear. They were +evidently approaching the place where he stood. Moved by a sudden +impulse of terror, he turned and fled from the spot. + +Guilt is ever cowardly. He sped on, scarcely knowing whither he went, +until in his blind haste he ran against a watchman. + +The unexpected shock sent both rolling over in the snow, which +considerably cooled the fever in Doctor Wiseman's blood. The indignant +"guardian of night," with an exclamation which wouldn't look well in +print, laid hold of the doctor's collar. But there was vigor in Doctor +Wiseman's dwarfed body, and strength in his long, lean arms; and with a +violent effort he wrenched himself free from the policeman's tenacious +grasp, and fled. + +"Charley" started in pursuit, and seeing he would soon be overtaken, the +doctor suddenly darted into the high, dark portico of an +imposing-looking house, and soon had the satisfaction of beholding the +angry watchman tear past like a comet, in full pursuit. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE ASTROLOGER. + + + "He fed on poisons, and they had no power, + But were a kind of nutriment; he lived + Through that which had been death to many men. + To him the book of night was opened wide, + And voices from the deep abyss revealed + A marvel and a secret."--BYRON. + +Having assured himself that all danger was past, Doctor Wiseman was +about to start from the building, when a sudden moonbeam fell on the +polished door-plate, and he started back to see the name it revealed. + +"The astrologer, Ali Hamed!" he exclaimed. "Now what foul fiend has +driven me to his accursed den to-night? 'Tis said he can read the +future; and surely no man ever needed to know it more than I. Can it be +that the hand of destiny has driven me here, to show me what is yet to +come. Well, it is useless going home or attempting to sleep to-night; +so, Ali Hamed, I shall try what your magical black art can do for me." + +He rang the bell sharply, but moment after moment passed, and no one +came. Losing all patience, he again rang a deafening peal, which echoed +and re-echoed through the house. + +Presently the sound of footsteps clattering down stairs struck his ear, +and in a moment more the door was cautiously opened, and a dark, swarthy +face protruded through the opening. Seeing but one, he stood aside to +allow him to enter, and then securely locked and bolted the door. + +"The astrologer, Ali Hamed, resides here?" said the doctor. + +Accustomed to visitors at all hours of the day and night, the man +betrayed no surprise at the unreasonable time he had taken to inquire, +but answered quietly in the affirmative. + +"Can I see him?" + +"I think so; step in here one moment, and I will see." + +He ushered Dr. Wiseman into a small and plainly furnished parlor, while +he again went up stairs. In a few moments he reappeared, and, bidding +his visitor follow him, led the way up the long staircase through a +spacious suite of apartments, and finally into a long, dark room, where +the astrologer usually received visitors. + +The doctor glanced around with intense curiosity, not unmingled with +awe. The floor was painted black, and the walls were hung with dark +tapestry, covered with all manner of cabalistic figures. Skulls, +crucibles, magic mirrors, tame serpents, vipers, and all manner of +hideous things were scattered profusely around. + +While the doctor still stood contemplating the strange things around +him, the door opened and the astrologer himself entered. He was an +imposing-looking personage, tall and majestic, with grave, Asiatic +features, and arrayed with Eastern magnificence. He bent his head with +grave dignity in return to the doctor's profound bow, and stood for a +few moments silently regarding him. + +"You would know the future?" said the astrologer, at length, in his +slow, impressive voice. + +"Such is my business here to-night." + +"You would have your horoscope cast, probably?" + +"Yes." + +"Then give me the day and hour of your birth, and return to-morrow +morning." + +"No, I cannot wait until then; I must know all to-night." + +The astrologer bowed, and after many tedious preliminaries, directed the +doctor to quit the room until he should send for him. Dr. Wiseman then +entered one of the long suite of apartments through which he had passed, +and seated himself in a state of feverish anxiety to hear the result. +Some time elapsed ere the swarthy individual who had admitted him +presented himself at the door and announced that the astrologer was +ready to receive him. + +Dr. Wiseman found Ali Hamed standing beside a smoking caldron, with his +cross-bones, and lizards, and mystic figures around him, awaiting his +entrance. + +Not much given to credulity, the doctor determined to test his skill +before placing implicit belief in his predictions; and therefore, +bluntly announcing his skepticism, he demanded to know something of the +past. + +"You are a widower, with one child," said the astrologer, calmly. + +The doctor bowed assent. + +"You are not rich, but avaricious; there is nothing you would not do for +money. You are liked by none; by nature you are treacherous, cunning, +and unscrupulous; your hands are dyed, and your heart is black with +crime; you----" + +"Enough!" interrupted the doctor, turning as pale as his saffron visage +would permit; "no more of the past. What has the future in store for +me?" + +"A life of disgrace, and death _on the scaffold_!" + +A suppressed cry of horror burst from the white lips of the doctor, who +reeled as if struck by some sudden blow. + +"To-night," continued the astrologer, unheeding the interruption, "_a +child has been born whose destiny shall be united with yours through +life; some strange, mystic tie will bind you together for a time. But +the hand of this child will yet bring your head to the halter._" + +He paused. Dr. Wiseman stood stiff, rooted to the ground with horror. + +"Such is your future; you may go," said the Egyptian, waving his hand. + +With his blood freezing in his veins, with hands trembling and lips +palsied with horror, he quitted the house. An hour had scarcely passed +since his entrance; but that hour seemed to have added ten years to his +age. He felt not the cold, keen air as he slowly moved along, every +sense paralyzed by the appalling prediction he had just heard. + +"Die on the scaffold!" His crime deserved it. But the bare thought made +his blood run cold. And through a child born that night he was to +perish! Was it the child of Esther Oranmore? Oh, absurd! it had been +swept far away by the waves long ere this. Whose, then, could it be? +There were more children born this Christmas Eve than that one; but how +could any one ever know what he had done? No one knew of it but Mrs. +Oranmore; and he well knew she would never tell. + +He plunged blindly onward through the heaps of drifted snow, heeding +not, caring not, whither his steps wended. Once or twice he met a +watchman going his rounds, and he shrank away like the guilty thing that +he was, dreading lest the word "_murder_" should be stamped on his brow. +He thought with cowardly terror of the coming day, when every eye, he +fancied, would turn upon him with a look of suspicion. + +Involuntarily he wandered to the sea-shore, and stood on the bank where +he had been one hour before. The waves were dashing now almost to his +feet; no trace of any living thing was to be seen around. + +"It _has_ perished, then!" he exclaimed, with a feeling of intense +relief. "I knew it! I knew it! _It_, then, is not the child which is to +cause my death. But, pshaw! why do I credit all that _soi-disant_ +prophet told me! Yet he spoke so truly of the past, I cannot avoid +believing him. Perish on the scaffold! Heavens! if I felt sure of it, I +would go mad. Ha! what is that? Can it be the ghastly white face of a +child?" + +He leaned over and bent down to see, but nothing met his eye save the +white caps of the waves. + +"Fool that I am!" he exclaimed, turning away impatiently. "Well might +stony Madam Oranmore deem me a coward did she see me now. I will hasten +back to her, and report the success of my mission." + +He turned away, and strode in the direction of her house as fast as he +could walk over the frozen ground, quite unconscious of what was at that +same moment passing in another quarter of the city on that same eventful +night. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +BARRY ORANMORE. + + + ----"Pray for the dead-- + Why for the dead, who are at rest? + Pray for the living, in whose breast + The struggle between right and wrong + Is raging, terrible and strong."--LONGFELLOW. + +It was a luxuriously furnished apartment. A thick, soft carpet, where +blue violets peeped from glowing green leaves so naturally that one +involuntarily stooped to cull them, covered the floor. Rare old +paintings adorned the wall, and the cornices were fretted with gold. The +heavy crimson curtains shut out the sound of the wintry wind, and a +glowing coal fire shed a living, radiant glow over everything around. +The air was redolent of intoxicating perfume, breathing of summer and +sunshine. On the marble-topped center-table stood bottles and glasses, a +cigar-case, a smoking-cap, and a pair of elegant, silver-mounted +pistols. It was evidently a gentleman's room, judging by the disorder. A +beautiful marble Flora stood in one corner, arrayed in a gaudy +dressing-gown, and opposite stood a dainty little Peri adorned with a +beaver hat. Jupiter himself was there, with a violin suspended +gracefully around his neck, and Cupid was leaning against the wall, +heels uppermost, with bent bow, evidently taking deliberate aim at the +flies on the ceiling. + +Among the many exquisite paintings hanging on the wall, there was one of +surpassing beauty; it represented a bleak hill-side, with a flock of +sheep grazing on the scanty herbage, a lowering, troubled sky above; and +one could almost see the fitful gusts of wind sighing over the gray +hill-tops. Standing erect was a young girl--a mere child in years--her +long golden hair streaming wildly in the breeze, her straw hat swinging +in her hand, her fair, bright face and large blue eyes raised with +mingled shyness and sauciness to a horseman bending over her, as if +speaking. His fiery steed seemed pawing with impatience; but his rider +held him with a firm hand. He was a tall, slight youth, with raven black +hair and eyes, and a dark, handsome face. There was a wild look about +the dark horseman and darker steed, reminding one of the Black Horseman +of the Hartz Mountains. Underneath was written, in a dashing masculine +hand, "The first meeting." There was something strikingly, vividly +life-like in the whole scene; even the characters--the slender girl, +with her pretty, piquant face, and the handsome, graceful rider--were +more like living beings than creations of fancy. + +And--yes, standing by the fire, his arm resting on the mantel, his eyes +fixed on the hearth, stood the original of the picture. The same tall, +superb form; the same clear olive complexion; the same curling locks of +jet, and black eyes of fire; the same firm, proud mouth, shaded by a +thick black mustache--there he stood, his eyes riveted on the glowing +coals, his brow knit as though in deep and painful thought. Now and then +the muscles of his face would twitch, and his white hands involuntarily +clench at some passing thought. + +At intervals the noise of doors shutting and opening would reach his +ear, and he would start as though he had received a galvanic shock, and +listen for a moment intently. Nothing could be heard but the crackling +of the fire at such times, and again he would relapse into gloomy +musing. + +"What a fool I have been!" he exclaimed, at length between his clenched +teeth, as he shook back with fierce impatience his glossy hair, "to +burden myself with this girl! Dolt, idiot that I was, to allow myself to +be bewitched by her blue eyes and yellow hair! What demon could have +possessed me to make her my wife? My wife! Just fancy me presenting that +little blushing, shrinking Galway girl as my wife to my lady mother, or +to that princess of coquettes, Lizzie Erliston! I wish to heaven I had +blown my brains out instead of putting my head into such a confounded +noose--making myself the laughing-stock of all my gallant friends and +lady acquaintances! No, by heaven! they shall never laugh at Barry +Oranmore. Eveleen shall be sent back to her friends. They will be glad +enough to get her on any terms; and she will soon forget me, and be +happy tending her sheep once more. And yet--and yet--poor Eveleen!" he +said, suddenly, pausing before the picture, while his dark eyes filled +with a softer light, and his voice assumed a gentler tone; "she loves me +so well yet--far more than I do her. I hardly like the thought of +sending her away; but it cannot be helped. My mother's purse is running +low, I fear; Erliston's coffers must replenish it. Yes, there is no help +for it; Eveleen must go, and I must marry little Lizzie. Poor child; she +left home, and friends, and all for me; and it _does_ seem a villainous +act in me to desert her for another. But go she must; there is no +alternative." + +He was walking up and down in his intense excitement--sometimes pausing +suddenly for a few moments, and then walking on faster than before. Thus +half an hour passed, during which he seemed to have formed some +determination; for his mouth grew stern, and his clear eyes cold and +calm, as he once more leaned against the mantel, and fell into thought. + +Presently the door opened and a woman entered. She was a stout, +corpulent person, with coarse, bloated face, and small, bleared eyes. As +she entered, she cast an affectionate glance toward the brandy bottle on +the table--a glance which said plainly she would have no objection to +trying its quality. She was arrayed for the street, with a large cloak +enveloping her ample person, and a warm quilted hood tied over her +substantial double chin. + +"Well, sir, I'll be movin', I reckon," said the woman, adjusting her +cloak. "The young lady's doing very nicely, and the baby's sleeping like +an angel. So they'll get along very well to-night without me." + +The young man started at the sound of her voice, and, looking up, said +carelessly: + +"Oh, it's you, is it? Are you for leaving?" + +"Yes, sir; it's time I was home and to bed. I ain't used to bein' up +late nights now--don't agree with my constitution; it's sorter delicate. +Shouldn't wonder if I was fallin' into a decline." + +The quizzical dark eyes of the young man surveyed the rotund person +before him, and in spite of himself he burst out laughing. + +"Well, now, if you was in a decline yourself, you'd laugh t'other side +of your mouth, I reckon," said the offended matron. "S'pose you think +it's very funny laughing at a poor, lone 'oman, without chick nor child. +But I can tell you----" + +"Ten thousand pardons, madam, for my offense," he interrupted, +courteously, though there was still a wicked twinkle in his eye. "Pray +sit down for a moment; I have something to say to you." + +"Well, now, it don't seem exactly right to sit here with you at this +hour of the night. Howsomever, I will, to oblige you," and the worthy +dame placed her ample frame in a cushioned elbow-chair. + +"Perhaps this argument may aid in overcoming your scruples," said the +young man, filling her a glass of wine, and throwing himself on a +lounge; "and now to business. You are a widow?" + +"Yes, sir. My blessed husband died a martyr to his country--died in the +discharge of his duty. He was a custom-house officer, and felt it his +duty always to examine liquors before destroying them. Well, one day he +took too much, caught the devil-rum tremendous, and left me a +disconsolate widder. The coroner of the jury set onto him, and----" + +"There, there! never mind particulars. You have no children?" + +"No," said the old woman stiffly, rather offended by his unceremonious +interruption. + +"If you were well paid, you would have no objection to taking one and +bringing it up as your own?" said the young man, speaking quietly, +though there was a look of restless anxiety in his fine eyes. + +"Well, no; I'd have no objection, if----" and here she slapped her +pocket expressively, by way of finishing the sentence. + +"Money shall be no object; but remember, the world must think it is your +own--_I_ am never to be troubled about it more." + +"All right--I understand," said the nurse, nodding her head sagely. +"S'pose it's the little one in there?" + +"It is. Can you take it away now?" + +"To-night?" + +"Yes." + +"But laws! ain't it too cold and stormy. Better wait till to-morrow." + +"No," was the quick and peremptory answer. "To-night, now, within this +very hour, it must be removed; and I am never to hear of it more." + +"And the poor young lady? Seems sorter hard, now don't it? she'll take +on wonderfully, I'm feared." + +A spasm of pain passed over his handsome face, and for a moment he was +silent. Then, looking up, he said, with brief sternness: + +"It cannot be helped. You must go without disturbing her, and I will +break the news to her myself. Here is my purse for the present. What is +your address?" + +The woman gave it. + +"Very well, you shall hear from me regularly; but should we ever meet +again, in the street or elsewhere, you are not to know me, and you must +forget all that has transpired to-night." + +"Hum!" said the fat widow, doubtfully. + +"And now you had better depart. The storm has almost ceased, and the +night is passing away. Is Ev--is my wife awake?" + +"No; I left her sleeping." + +"So much the better. You can take _it_ with you without disturbing her. +Go." + +The buxom widow arose and quitted the room. Oranmore lay on a lounge, +rigidly motionless, his face hidden by his hand. A fierce storm was +raging in his breast--"the struggle between right and wrong." Pride and +ambition struggled with love and remorse, but the fear of the world +conquered: and when the old woman re-entered, bearing a sleeping infant +in her arms, he looked up as composedly as herself. + +"Pretty little dear," said the widow, wrapping the child in a thick +woolen shawl, "how nicely she sleeps! Very image of her mother, and +she's the beautifulest girl I ever saw in my life. I gave her some +paregoric to make her sleep till I go home. Well, good-night, sir. Our +business is over." + +"Yes, good-night. Remember the secret; forget what has transpired +to-night, and your fortune is made. You will care for _it_"--and he +pointed to the child--"as though it were your own." + +"Be sure I will, dear little duck. Who could help liking such a sweet, +pretty darling? I s'pose you'll come to see it sometimes, sir?" + +"No. You can send me word of its welfare now and then. Go, madam, go." + +The widow turned to leave the room, and, unobserved by the young man, +who had once more thrown himself on his face on the sofa, she seized a +well-filled brandy-flask and concealed it beneath her shawl. + +Quitting the house, she walked as rapidly as her bulksome proportions +would permit over the snowy ground. The road leading to her home lay in +the direction of the sea-shore; and, as she reached the beach, she was +thoroughly chilled by the cold, in spite of her warm wrappings. + +"It's as cold as the Arctic Ocean, and I've heerd say that's the coldest +country in the world. A drop of comfort won't come amiss just now. Lucky +I thought on't. This little monkey's as sound as a top. It's my 'pinion +that young gent's no better than he ought to be, to treat such a lovely +young lady in this fashion. Well, it's no business of mine, so's I'm +well paid. Lor! I hope I hain't gin it too much paregoric; wouldn't for +anything 'twould die. S'pose I'd get no more tin then. That's prime," +she added, placing the flask to her lips and draining a long draught. + +As the powerful fumes of the brandy arose to her head, the worthy lady's +senses became rather confused; and, falling rather than sitting on the +bank, the child, muffled like a mummy in its plaid, rolled from her arms +into a snow-wreath. At the same moment the loud ringing of bells and +the cry of "Fire! fire!" fell upon her ear. It roused her; and, in the +excitement of the moment forgetting her little charge, she sprang up as +well as she could, and, by a strange fascination, was soon involuntarily +drawn away to mingle with the crowd, who were hurrying in the direction +of her abode. + +Scarcely five minutes before, Dr. Wiseman had quitted that very spot: +and there, within a few yards of each other, the two unconscious infants +lay, little knowing how singularly their future lives were to be +united--little dreaming how fatal an influence _one_ of them was yet to +wield over _him_. + +Some time after, when the flames were extinguished and the crowd had +quitted the streets for their beds--when the unbroken silence of coming +morning had fallen over the city--the widow returned to seek for her +child. + +But she sought in vain; the rising tide had swept over the bank, and was +again retreating sullenly to the sea. + +Sobered by terror and remorse, the wretched woman trod up and down the +dreary, deserted snowy beach until morning broke; but she sought and +searched in vain. The child was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MOUNT SUNSET HALL. + + + "A jolly place, 'twas said, in days of old."--WORDSWORTH. + +The jingle of the approaching sleigh-bells, which had frightened Dr. +Wiseman from the beach, had been unheard by the drunken nurse; but ten +minutes after she had left, a sleigh came slowly along the narrow, +slippery path. + +It contained but two persons. One was an elderly woman, wrapped and +muffled in furs. A round, rosy, cheery face beamed out from a black +velvet bonnet, and two small, twinkling, merry gray eyes, lit up the +pleasantest countenance in the world. + +Her companion, who sat in the driver's seat, was a tall, jolly-looking +darkey, with a pair of huge, rolling eyes, looking like a couple of +snow-drifts in a black ground. A towering fur cap ornamented the place +where the "wool ought to grow," and was the only portion of this son of +darkness which could be discovered for his voluminous wrappings. + +The path was wet, slippery, and dangerous in the extreme. The horses +were restive, and a single false step would have overturned them into +the water. + +"Missus Scour, if you please, missus, you'd better git out," said the +negro, reining in the horses, in evident alarm; "this yer's the wussest +road I'se ever trabeled. These wishious brutes 'll spill me and you, and +the sleigh, and then the Lor only knows what'll ever become of us." + +"Do you think there's any danger, Jupiter?" said Mrs. Gower (for such +was the name her sable attendant had transformed into _Scour_), in a +voice of alarm. + +"This road's sort o' 'spicious anyhow," replied Jupiter. "I'd 'vise you, +Missus Scour, mum, to get out and walk till we is past this yer beach. +'Sides the snow, this yer funnelly beach is full o' holes, an' if we got +upsot inter one of 'em, ole marse might whistle for you and me, and the +sleigh arter that!" + +With much difficulty, and with any amount of whoaing, Jupiter managed to +stop the sleigh, and assisted stout Mrs. Gower to alight. This was no +easy job, for that worthy lady was rather unwieldy, and panted like a +stranded porpoise, as she slowly plunged through the wet snow-drifts. + +Suddenly, above the jingling sleigh-bells, the wail of an infant met her +ear. She paused in amazement, and looked around. Again she heard +it--this time seemingly at her feet. She looked down and beheld a small, +dark bundle, lying amid the deep snow. + +Once more the piteous cry met her ear, and stooping down, she raised the +little dark object in her arms. + +Unfolding the shawl, she beheld the infant whose cries had first +arrested her ear. + +"Good heavens! a baby exposed to this weather--left here to perish!" +exclaimed good Mrs. Gower, in horror. "Poor little thing, it's half +frozen. Who could have done so unnatural a deed?" + +"Laws! Missus Scour, what ye got dar?" inquired Jupiter. + +"A baby, Jupe! A poor little helpless infant whom some unnatural wretch +has left here to die!" exclaimed Mrs. Gower, with more indignation than +she had ever before felt in her life. + +"Good Lor! so 'tis! What you gwine to do wid it, Missus Scour, mum?" + +"Do with it?" said Mrs. Gower, looking at him in surprise. "Why, take it +with me, of course. You wouldn't have me leave the poor infant here to +perish, would you?" + +"'Deed, Missus Scour, I wouldn't bring it 'long ef I was you. Jes' +'flect how tarin' mad ole marse 'll be 'bout it. Don't never want to see +no babies roun'. Deed, honey, you'd better take my 'vice an' leave it +whar it was," said Jupiter. + +"What? Leave it here to die. I'm ashamed of you, Jupiter," said the old +lady, rebukingly. + +"But Lor! Missus Scour! ole marse 'll trow it out de winder fust thing. +Shouldn't be s'prised, nudder, ef he'd wollop me for bringing it. Jes' +'flect upon it, Missus Scour, nobody can't put no 'pendence onto him, de +forsooken ole sinner. Trowed his 'fernal ole stick at me, t'other day, +and like to knock my brains out, jes' for nothin' at all. 'Deed, honey, +I wouldn't try sich a 'sperriment, no how." + +"Now, Jupiter, you needn't say another word. My mind's made up, and I'm +going to keep this child, let 'ole marse' rage as he will. I'm just as +sure as I can be, that the Lord sent it to me, to-night, as a Christmas +gift, in place of my poor, dear Aurora, that he took to heaven," said +good Mrs. Gower, folding the wailing infant closer still to her warm, +motherly bosom. + +"Sartin, missus, in course you knows best, but ef you'd only 'flect. +'Pears to me, ole marse 'll tar roun worser dan ever, when he sees it, +and discharge you in you 'sponsible ole age o' life 'count of it." + +"And if he _does_ discharge me, Jupiter, after twenty years' service, I +have enough to support myself and this little one to the end of my life, +thank the Lord!" said Mrs. Gower, her honest, ruddy face all aglow with +generous enthusiasm. + +"Well, I s'pose 'taint no sorter use talking," said Jupiter, with a +sigh, as he gathered up the reins; "but ef anything happens, jes 'member +I 'vised you of it 'forehand. Here we is on de road now, so you'd better +get in ef you's agoin' to take de little 'un wid you." + +With considerable squeezing, and much panting, and some groaning, good +Mrs. Gower was assisted into the sleigh, and muffled up in the buffalo +robes. + +Wrapping the child in her warm, fur-lined mantle, to protect it from the +chill night air, they sped merrily along over the hard, frozen ground. + +Christmas morning dawned bright, sunshiny, and warm. The occupants of +the sleigh had long since left the city behind them, and were now +driving along the more open country. The keen, frosty air deepened the +rosy glow on Mrs. Gower's good-humored face. Warmly protected from the +cold, the baby lay sleeping sweetly in her arms, and even Jupiter's +sable face relaxed into a grin as he whistled "Coal Black Rose." + +The sun was about three hours high when they drew up before a solitary +inn. And here Jupiter assisted Mrs. Gower into the house, while he +himself looked after his horses. + +Mrs. Gower was shown by the hostess into the parlor, where a huge +wood-fire roared up the wide chimney. Removing the large shawl that +enveloped it, Mrs. Gower turned for the first time to examine her prize. + +It did not differ much from other babies, save in being the tiniest +little creature that ever was seen; with small, pretty features, and an +unusual profusion of brown hair. As it awoke, it disclosed a pair of +large blue eyes--rather vacant-looking, it must be confessed--and +immediately set up a most vigorous squealing. Small as it was, it +evidently possessed lungs that would not have disgraced a newsboy, and +seemed bent upon fully exercising them; for in spite of Mrs. Gower's +cooing and kissing, it cried and screamed "and would not be comforted." + +"Poor little dear, it's so hungry," said the good old lady, rocking it +gently. "What a pretty little darling it is. I'm _sure_ it looks like +little Aurora!" + +"What is the matter with baby?" inquired the hostess, at this moment +entering. + +"It's hungry, poor thing. Bring in some warm milk, please," replied Mrs. +Gower. + +The milk was brought, and baby, like a sensible child, as it doubtless +was, did ample justice to it. Then rolling it up in the shawl, Mrs. +Gower placed it in the rocking-chair, and left it to its own +reflections, while she sat down to a comfortable breakfast of fragrant +coffee, hot rolls, and fried ham. + +When breakfast was over Jupiter brought round the horses and sleigh, and +Mrs. Gower entered, holding her prize, and they drove off. + +It was noon when they reached the end of their long journey, and entered +the little village of St. Mark's. Sloping upward from the bay on one +side, and encircled by a dense primeval forest on the other, the village +stood. St. Mark's was a great place in the eyes of its inhabitants, and +considered by them the only spot on the globe fit for rational beings to +live in. It was rather an unpretending-looking place, though, to +strangers, who sometimes came from the city to spend the hot summer +months there, in preference to any fashionable watering-place. It +contained a church, a school-house, a lecture-room, a post-office, and +an inn. + +But the principal building, and pride of the village, was Mount Sunset +Hall. It stood upon a sloping eminence, which the villagers dignified +with the title of hill, but which in reality was no such thing. The hall +itself was a large, quaint, old mansion of gray stone, built in the +Elizabethan style, with high turrets, peaked gables, and long, high +windows. It was finely situated, commanding on one side a view of the +entire village and the bay, and on the other the dark pine forest and +far-spreading hills beyond. A carriage-path wound up toward the front, +through an avenue of magnificent horse chestnuts, now bare and leafless. +A wide porch, on which the sun seemed always shining, led into a long, +high hall, flanked on each side by doors, opening into the separate +apartments. A wide staircase of dark polished oak led to the upper +chambers of the old mansion. + +The owner of Sunset Hall was Squire Erliston, the one great man of the +village, the supreme autocrat of St. Mark's. The squire was a rough, +gruff, choleric old bear, before whom children and poultry and other +inferior animals quaked in terror. He had been once given to high living +and riotous excesses, and Sunset Hall had then been a place of +drunkenness and debauchery. But these excesses at last brought on a +dangerous disease, and for a long time his life was despaired of; then +the squire awoke to a sense of his situation, took a "pious streak"--as +he called it himself--and registered a vow, that if it pleased +Providence not to deprive the world in general, and St. Marks in +particular, of so valuable an ornament as himself, he would eschew all +his evil deeds and meditate seriously on his latter end. Whether his +prayer was heard or not I cannot undertake to say; but certain it is the +squire recovered; and, casting over in his mind the ways and means by +which he could best do penance for his past sins, he resolved to go +through a course of Solomon's Proverbs, and--get married. Deeming it +best to make the greatest sacrifice first, he got married; and, after +the honeymoon was past, surprised his wife one day by taking down the +huge family Bible left him by his father, and reading the first chapter. +This he continued for a week--yawning fearfully all the time; but after +that he resolved to make his wife read them aloud to him, and thereby +save him the trouble. + +"For," said the squire sagely, "what's the use of having a wife if she +can't make herself useful. 'A good wife's a crown to her husband,' as +Solomon says." + +So Mrs. Erliston was commanded each morning to read one of the chapters +by way of morning prayers. The squire would stretch himself on a lounge, +light a cigar, lay his head on her lap, and prepare to listen. But +before the conclusion of the third verse Squire Erliston and his good +resolutions would be as sound as one of the Seven Sleepers. + +When his meek little wife would hint at this, her worthy liege lord +would fly into a passion, and indignantly deny the assertion. _He_ +asleep, indeed! Preposterous!--he had heard every word! And, in proof of +it, he vociferated every text he could remember, and insisted upon +making Solomon the author of them all. This habit he had retained +through life--often to the great amusement of his friends--setting the +most absurd phrases down to the charge of the Wise Monarch. His wife +died, leaving him with two daughters; the fate of the eldest, Esther, is +already known to the reader. + +Up the carriage-road, in front, the sleigh containing our travelers +drove. Good Mrs. Gower--who for many years had been Squire Erliston's +housekeeper--alighted, and, passing through the long hall, entered a +cheerful-looking apartment known as the "housekeeper's room." + +Seating herself in an elbow-chair to recover her breath, Mrs. Gower laid +the baby in her bed, and rang the bell. The summons was answered by a +tidy little darkey, who rushed in all of a flutter. + +"Laws! Missus Scour, I's 'stonished, I is! Whar's de young 'un! Jupe say +you fotch one from the city." + +"So I did; there it is on the bed." + +"Sakes alive, ain't it a mite of a critter! Gemini! what'll old marse +say? Can't abide babies no how! 'spect he neber was a baby hisself!" + +"Totty, you mustn't speak that way of your master. Remember, it's not +respectful," said Mrs. Gower, rebukingly. + +"Oh, I'll 'member of it--'specially when I's near him, and he's got a +stick in his hand," said Totty, turning again to the baby, and eying it +as one might some natural curiosity. "Good Lor! ain't it a funny little +critter? What's its name, Miss Scour?" + +"I intend calling it Aurora, after my poor little daughter," replied +Mrs. Gower, tears filling her eyes. + +"_Roarer!_ Laws! ain't it funny? Heigh! dar's de bell. 'Spect it's for +me," said Totty, running off. + +In a few moments she reappeared; and, shoving her curly head and ebony +phiz through the door, announced, in pompous tones, "dat marse wanted de +honor ob a few moments' private specification wid Missus Scour in de +parlor." + +"Very well, Totty; stay in here and mind the baby until I come back," +said Mrs. Gower, rising to obey. + +Totty, nothing loth, seated herself by the bed and resumed the scrutiny +of the baby. Whether that young lady remarked the impertinent stare of +the darkey or not, it would be hard to say; for, having bent her whole +heart and soul on the desperate and rather cannibal-like task of +devouring her own little fists, she treated Totty with silent contempt. + +Meantime, Mrs. Gower, with a look of firm determination, but with a +heart which, it must be owned, throbbed faster than usual, approached +the room wherein sat the lord and master of Sunset Hall. A gruff voice +shouted: "Come in!" in reply to her "tapping at the chamber-door;" and +good Mrs. Gower, in fear and trembling, entered the awful presence. + +In a large easy-chair in the middle of the floor--his feet supported by +a high ottoman--reclined Squire Erliston. He was evidently about fifty +years of age, below the middle size, stout and squarely built, and of +ponderous proportions. His countenance was fat, purple, and bloated, as +if from high living and strong drink; and his short, thick, bull-like +neck could not fail to bring before the mind of the beholder most +unpleasant ideas of apoplexy. His little, round, popping eyes seemed in +danger of starting from their sockets; while the firm compression of his +square mouth betokened an unusual degree of obstinacy. + +"Good-morning, Mrs. Gower. Fine day, this! Got home, I see. Shut the +door!--shut the door!--draughts always bring on the gout; so beware of +'em. Don't run into danger, or you'll perish in it, as Solomon says. +There! sit down, sit down, sit down!" + +Repeating this request a very unnecessary number of times--for worthy +Mrs. Gower had immediately taken a seat on entering--Squire Erliston +adjusted his spectacles carefully on the bridge of his nose, and glanced +severely at his housekeeper over the top of them. That good lady sat +with her eyes fixed upon the carpet--her hands folded demurely in her +lap--the very personification of mingled dignity and good-nature. + +"Hem! madam," began the squire. + +"Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Gower, meekly. + +"Jupe tells me--that is, he told me--I mean, ma'am, the short and long +of it is, you've brought a baby home with you--eh?" + +"Yes, sir," replied the housekeeper. + +"And how dare you, ma'am--how _dare_ you bring such a thing here?" +roared the squire, in a rage. "Don't you know I detest the whole +persuasion under twelve years of age? Yes, ma'am! you know it; and yet +you went and brought one here. 'The way of the transgressor is hard,' as +Solomon says; and I'll make it confoundedly hard for you if you don't +pitch the squalling brat this minute out of the window! D'ye hear that?" + +"Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Gower, quietly. + +"And why the deuce don't you go and do it, then--eh?" + +"Because, Squire Erliston, I am resolved to keep the child," said Mrs. +Gower, firmly. + +"What! _what!_ WHAT!" exclaimed the squire, speechless with mingled rage +and astonishment at the audacious reply. + +"Yes, sir," reiterated Mrs. Gower, resolutely. "I consider that child +sent to me by Heaven, and I cannot part with it." + +"Fudge! stuff! fiddlesticks! Sent to you by heaven, indeed! S'pose +heaven ever dropped a young one on the beach? Likely story!" + +"Well, I consider it the same thing. Some one left it on the beach, and +heaven destined me to save it." + +"Nonsense! no such thing! 'twas that stupid rascal, Jupe, making you get +out. I'll horsewhip him within an inch of his life for it!" roared the +old man, in a passion. + +"I beg you will do no such thing, sir. It was no fault of Jupiter's. If +you insist on its quitting the house, there remains but one course for +me." + +"Confound it, ma'am! you'd make a saint swear, as Solomon says. Pray +tell me what _is_ that course you speak of?" + +"I must leave with it." + +"What?" exclaimed the squire, perfectly aghast with amazement. + +"I must leave with it!" repeated Mrs. Gower, rising from her seat, and +speaking quietly, but firmly. + +"Sit down, ma'am--sit down, sit down! Oh, Lord! let me catch my breath! +Leave with it! Just say that over again, will you? I don't think I heard +right." + +"Your ears have not deceived you, Squire Erliston. I repeat it, if that +child leaves, I leave, too!" + +You should have seen Squire Erliston then, as he sat bolt upright, his +little round eyes ready to pop from their sockets with consternation, +staring at good Mrs. Gower much like a huge turkey gobbler. That good +lady stood complacently waiting, with her hand on the handle of the +door, for what was to come next. + +She had not to long wait; for such a storm of rage burst upon her +devoted head, that anybody else would have fled in dismay. But she, +"good, easy soul," was quite accustomed to that sort of thing, and stood +gazing upon him as serenely as a well-fed Biddy might on an enraged +barn-yard chanticleer. And still the storm of abuse raged, interspersed +with numerous quotations from Solomon--by way, doubtless, of impressing +her that his wrath was righteous. And still Mrs. Gower stood serene and +unruffled by his terrible denunciations, looking as placid as a mountain +lake sleeping in the sunlight. + +"Well, ma'am, well; what do you think of your conduct _now_?" exclaimed +the squire, when the violence of his rage was somewhat exhausted. + +"Just what I did before, sir." + +"And what was that, eh?--what was that?" + +"That I have done right, sir; and that I will keep the child!" + +"_You will?_" thundered the squire, in an awful voice. + +"Yes, sir!" replied Mrs. Gower, slightly appalled by his terrible look, +but never flinching in her determination. + +"You--you--you--abominable--female, you!" stammered the squire, unable +to speak calmly, from rage. Then he added: "Well, well! I won't get +excited--no, ma'am. You can keep the brat, ma'am! But mind you, if it +ever comes across me, I'll wring its neck for it as I would a +chicken's!" + +"Then I _may_ keep the little darling?" said good Mrs. Gower, +gratefully. "I am sure I am much obliged, and----" + +"There! there! there! Hold your tongue, ma'am! Don't let me hear another +word about it--the pest! the plague! Be off with you now, and send up +dinner. Let the turkey be overdone, or the pudding burned, at your +peril! 'Better a stalled ox with quietness, than a dry morsel,' as +Solomon says. Hurry up there, and ring for Lizzie!" + +Mrs. Gower hastened from the room, chuckling at having got over the +difficulty so easily. And from that day forth, little Aurora, as her +kind benefactress called her, was domesticated at Mount Sunset Hall. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +LIZZIE'S LOVER. + + + "Fond girl! no saint nor angel he + Who wooes thy young simplicity; + But one of earth's impassioned sons, + As warm in love, as fierce in ire, + As the best heart whose current runs + Full of the day-god's living fire." + FIRE WORSHIPERS. + + +The inn of St. Mark's was an old, brown, wooden house, with huge, +unpainted shutters, and great oak doors, that in summer lay always +invitingly open. It stood in the center of the village, with the forest +stretching away behind, and the beach spreading out in front. Over the +door swung a huge signboard, on which some rustic artist had endeavored +to paint an eagle, but which, unfortunately, more closely resembled a +frightened goose. + +Within the "Eagle," as it was generally called, everything was +spotlessly neat and clean; for the landlord's pretty daughter was the +tidiest of housewives. The huge, oaken door in front, directly under the +above-mentioned signboard, opened into the bar-room, behind the counter +of which the worthy host sat, in his huge leathern chair, from "early +morn till dewy eve." Another door, at the farther end, opened into the +"big parlor," the pine floor of which was scrubbed as white as human +hands could make it; and the two high, square windows at either end +absolutely glittered with cleanliness. The wooden chairs were polished +till they shone, and never blazed a fire on a cleaner swept hearth than +that which now roared up the wide fire-place of the "Eagle." + +It was a gusty January night. The wind came raw and cold over the +distant hills, now rising fierce and high, and anon dying away in low, +moaning sighs among the shivering trees. On the beach the waves came +tramping inward, their dull, hollow voices booming like distant thunder +on the ear. + +But within the parlor of the "Eagle" the mirth and laughter were loud +and boisterous. Gathered around the blazing fire, drinking, smoking, +swearing, arguing, were fifteen or twenty men--drovers, farmers, +fishermen, and loafers. + +"This yer's what _I_ calls comfortable," said a lusty drover, as he +raised a foaming mug of ale to his lips and drained it to the last drop. + +"I swan to man if it ain't a rouser of a night," said a rather +good-looking young fellow, dressed in the coarse garb of a fisherman, as +a sudden gust of wind and hail came driving against the windows. + +"Better here than out on the bay to-night, eh, Jim?" said the drover, +turning to the last speaker. + +"Them's my sentiments," was the reply, as Jim filled his pipe. + +"I reckon Jim hain't no objection to stayin' anywhere where Cassie is," +remarked another, dryly. + +"Who's taking my name in vain here?" called a clear, ringing voice, as a +young girl, of some eighteen years of age, entered. Below the middle +size, plump and round, with merry, black eyes, a complexion decidedly +brown, full, red lips, overflowing with fun and good-nature--such was +Cassie Fox, the pretty little hostess of the "Eagle." + +Before any one could reply, an unusual noise in the bar-room fell upon +their ears. The next moment, Sally, the black maid-of-all-work, came +into the "big parlor," with mouth and eyes agape. + +"Laws, misses," she said, addressing Cassie, "dar's a gemman--a rale +big-bug--out'n de bar-room; a 'spectable, 'sponsible, 'greeable gemman, +powerful hansom, wid brack eyes an' har, an' a carpet-bag!" + +"Sakes alive!" ejaculated Cassie, dropping the tray, and turning to the +looking-glass; "he's handsome, and--_my hair's awfully mussed_! +Gracious! what brings him here, Sally?" + +"Got cotch in de storm; 'deed he did, chile--heard him tell marse so my +own blessed self." + +"Goodness!" again ejaculated the little hostess. "I'm all in a +flusterfication. Handsome! dear, dear!--my hair's all out of curl! Black +eyes!--I must unpin my dress. Nice hair! Jim Loker, take your legs out +of the fire, nobody wants you to make andirons of 'em." + +"Cass! Cass, I say! Come here, you Cass!" called the voice of mine host +from the bar-room. + +Cassie bustled out of the room and entered the bar. Old Giles Fox stood +respectfully before the stranger, a young man wrapped in a cloak, tall +and handsome, with a sort of dashing, reckless air, that well became +him. + +"Here, Cass," said her father, "this gentleman's going to stay all +night. Show him into the best room, and get supper ready. Be spry, now." + +"Yes, sir," said Cassie, demurely, courtesying before the handsome +stranger, who glanced half carelessly, half admiringly, at her pretty +face. "This way, sir, if you please." + +The stranger followed her into the parlor, and encountered the battery +of a score of eyes fixed full upon him. He paused in the doorway and +glanced around. + +"Beg pardon," he said, in the refined tone of a gentleman, "but I +thought this room was unoccupied. Can I not have a private apartment?" +he added, turning to Cassie. + +"Oh, yes, to be sure," replied the little hostess; "step this way, sir," +and Cassie ran up-stairs, followed by the new-comer, whose dark eyes had +already made a deep impression in the susceptible heart of Cassie. + +He threw himself into a chair before the fire and fixed his eyes +thoughtfully on the glowing coals. Cassie, having placed his dripping +cloak before the fire to dry, ran down stairs, where he could distinctly +hear her shrill voice giving hasty orders to the servants. + +Supper was at length brought in by Cassie, and the stranger fell to with +the readiness of one to whom a long journey has given an appetite. + +"There," he said at last, pushing back his chair. "I think I have done +justice to your cookery, my dear--Cassie--isn't that what they call +you?" + +"Yes, sir; after Cassiopia, who was queen in furrin parts long ago. +Efiofia, I think, was the name of the place," said Cassie, complacently. + +"What?" said the stranger, repressing a laugh. "What do you say was the +name of the place?" + +"Efiofia!" repeated Cassie, with emphasis. + +"Ethiopia! Oh, I understand! And who named you after that fair queen, +who now resides among the stars?" + +"Mother, of course, before she died," replied the namesake of that +Ethiopian queen. "She read about her in some book, and named me +accordingly." + +The stranger smiled, and fixed his eyes steadily on the complacent face +of Cassie, with an expression of mingled amusement and curiosity. There +was a moment's pause, and then he asked: + +"And what sort of place is St. Mark's--I mean, what sort of people are +there in it?" + +"Oh, pretty nice," replied Cassie; "most all like those you saw down +stairs in the parlor." + +"But, I mean the gentry." + +"Oh, the big-bugs. Well, yes, there is some of 'em here. First, there's +the squire----" + +"Squire who?" interrupted the stranger, with a look of interest. + +"Squire Erliston, of course; he lives up there in a place called Mount +Sunset." + +"Yes?" said the young man, inquiringly. + +"Yes," repeated Cassiopia, "with his daughter, Miss Lizzie." + +"Has he only one daughter?" + +"That's all, now. He had two; but Miss Esther ran off with a wild young +fellow, an' I've hearn tell as how they were both dead, poor things! So +powerful handsome as they were too--'specially him." + +"And Miss Lizzie?" + +"Oh, yes. Well, you see she ain't married--she's more sense. She's awful +pretty, too, though she ain't a mite like Miss Esther was. Laws, she +might have bin married dozens of times, I'm sure, if she'd have all the +gents who want her. She's only been home for two or three months; she +was off somewhere to boardin'-school to larn to play the pianner and +make picters and sich." + +"And the papa of these interesting damsels, what is he like?" inquired +the young man. + +"He?--sakes alive! Why, he's the ugliest-tempered, crossest, +hatefullest, disagreeablest old snapping-turtle ever you saw. He's as +cross as two sticks, and as savage as a bear with a sore head. My stars +and garters! I'd sooner run a mile out of my way than meet him in the +street." + +"Whew! pleasant, upon my word! Are all your country magnates as amiable +as Squire Erliston?" + +"There ain't many more, 'cepting Doctor Nick Wiseman, and that queer old +witch, Miss Hagar." + +"Has he any grown-up daughters?" inquired the stranger, carelessly. + +Cassie paused, and regarded him with a peculiar look for an instant. + +"Ahem!" she said, after a pause. "No; he's a widderer, with only one +child, a daughter, 'bout nine months old, and a nevvy a year or so +older. No, there ain't no young ladies--I mean real ladies--in the +village, 'cept Miss Lizzie Erliston." + +He paid no attention to the meaning tone in which this was spoken, and +after lingering a few moments longer, Cassie took her leave, inwardly +wondering who the handsome and inquisitive stranger could be. + +"Praps this'll tell," said Cassie, as she lifted the stranger's +portmanteau, and examined it carefully for name and initials. "Here it +is, I declare!" she exclaimed, as her eyes fell on the letters "B. O.," +inscribed on the steel clasp. "B. O. I wonder what them stands for! 'B +O' _bo_. Shouldn't wonder if he was a beau. Sakes alive! what can his +name be and what can he want? Well, I ain't likely to tell anybody, +'cause I don't know myself. 'Has he got any grown-up darters?'" she +muttered, as the young man's question came again to her mind. "Maybe +he's a fortin' hunter. I've hern tell o' sich. Well, I hope Miss Lizzie +won't have anything to do with him if he is, and go throw herself away +on a graceless scamp like Miss Esther did. Well, I guess, if he goes +courtin' there, old Thunderclap will be in his wool, and--O, massy on +us!--if that Sally hain't let the fire go dead out, while I was talkin' +up-stairs with 'B. O.' Little black imp! won't I give it to her?" + +The morning after the storm dawned clear and cold. All traces of the +preceding night's tempest had passed away, and the sun shone forth +brightly in a sky of clear, cloudless blue. + +The handsome young stranger stood in the bar-room of the "Eagle," gazing +from the open door at the bay, sparkling and flashing in the sun's +light, and dotted all over with fishing-boats. Behind the counter sat +worthy Giles Fox, smoking his pipe placidly. From the interior of the +building came at intervals the voice of Cassie, scolding right and left +at "You Sally" and "little black imp." + +Suddenly the stranger beheld, emerging from a forest path on the right +of the inn, a gentleman on horseback. He rode slowly, and the stranger +observed that all the villagers he encountered saluted him respectfully, +the men pulling off their hats, the women dropping profound courtesies, +and the children, on their way to school, by scampering in evident alarm +across meadows and fields. + +As he drew rein before the inn-door, the stranger drew back. The old +gentleman entered and approached the bar. + +"Good-morning, Giles," he said, addressing the proprietor of the "Eagle" +in a patronizing tone. + +"Good-morning, squire--good-morning, sir. Fine day after the storm last +night," said the host, rising. + +"Great deal of damage done last night--great deal," said the old man, +speaking rapidly, as was his custom: "one or two of the fishermen's huts +down by the shore washed completely away. Yes, _sir--r_! Careless fools! +Served 'em right. Always said it would happen--_I_ knew it. 'Coming +events cast their shadows afore,' as Solomon says." + +The young stranger stepped forward and stood before him. + +"Beg pardon, sir," he said, with a slight bow; "have I the honor of +addressing Squire Erliston?" + +"Yes, yes--to be sure you have; that's me. Yes, _sir_. Who're you, +eh?--who're you?" said the squire, staring at him with his round, bullet +eyes. + +"If Squire Erliston will glance over this, it will answer his question," +said the young man, presenting a letter. + +The squire held the letter in his hand, and stared at him a moment +longer; then wiped his spectacles and adjusted them upon his nose, +opened the letter, and began to read. + +The stranger stood, in his usual careless manner, leaning against the +counter, and watched him during its perusal. + +"Lord bless me!" exclaimed the squire, as he finished the letter. "So +you're the son of my old friend, Oranmore? Who'd think it? You weren't +the size of a well-grown pup when I saw you last. And you're his son? +Well, well! Give us your hand. 'Who knows what a day may bring forth?' +as Solomon says. I'd as soon have thought of seeing the Khan of Tartary +here as you. Oranmore's son! Well, well, well! You're his very image--a +trifle better-looking. And you're Barry Oranmore? When did you come, +eh?--when did you come?" + +"Last night, sir." + +"Last night, in all the storm? Bless my soul! Why didn't you come up to +Mount Sunset? Eh, sir? Why didn't you come?" + +"Really, sir, I feared----" + +"Pooh!--pshaw!--nonsense!--no, you did not. 'Innocence is bold; but the +guilty flee-eth when no one pursues,' as Solomon says. What were you +afraid of? S'pose everybody told you I was a demon incarnate--confound +their impudence! But I ain't; no, _sir_! 'The devil's not as black as +he's painted,' as Solomon says--or if he didn't say it, he ought to." + +"Indeed, sir, I should be sorry to think of my father's old friend in +any such way, I beg to assure you." + +"No, you won't--haven't time. Come up to Mount Sunset--come, right off! +Must, sir--no excuse; Liz'll be delighted to see you. Come--come--come +along!" + +"Since you insist upon it, squire, I shall do myself the pleasure of +accepting your invitation." + +"Yes, yes--to be sure you will!" again interrupted the impatient squire. +"Bless my heart!--and you're little Barry. Well, well!" + +"I am Barry, certainly," said the young man, smiling; "but whether the +adjective 'little' is well applied or not, I feel somewhat doubtful. I +have a dim recollection of measuring some six feet odd inches when I +left home." + +"Ha, ha, ha!--to be sure! to be sure!" laughed the lusty old squire. +"Little!--by Jove! you're a head and shoulders taller than I am myself. +Yes, sir--true as gospel. 'Bad weeds grow fast,' as Solomon says. Lord! +_won't_ my Liz be astonished, though?" + +"I hope your daughter is quite well, squire." + +"Well!--you'd better believe it. My daughter is _never_ sick. No, sir; +got too much sense--specially Liz. Esther always _was_ a simpleton--ran +away, and all that, before she was out of her bibs and tuckers. Both +died--knew they would. 'The days of the transgressors shall be short on +the earth,' as Solomon says. But Liz has got her eye-teeth cut. Smart +girl, my Liz." + +"I anticipate great pleasure in making the acquaintance of Miss +Erliston," said Oranmore, carelessly; "her beauty and accomplishments +have made her name familiar to me long ago." + +"Yes, yes, Liz is good-looking--deucedly good-looking; very like what I +was at her age. Ah, you're laughing, you rascal! Well, I dare say I'm no +beauty _now_; but never mind that at present. 'Handsome is as handsome +does,' as Solomon says. Come, get your traps and come along. Giles, fly +round--we're in a hurry." + +Thus adjured, Giles kindly consented to "fly round." All was soon ready; +and, after giving orders to have his portmanteau sent after him, young +Oranmore mounted his horse, and, accompanied by the squire, rode off +toward Mount Sunset Hall, the squire enlivening the way by numerous +quotations from Solomon. + +On reaching the Hall, his host ushered him into the parlor, where, +seated at the piano, was the squire's daughter, Lizzie, singing, by some +singular coincidence: + + "There's somebody coming to marry me-- + There's somebody coming to woo." + +Whether Miss Lizzie had seen that _somebody_ coming through the window, +I cannot say. + +She rose abruptly from her seat as they entered, exclaiming: + +"Oh, papa! I'm so glad you have come." + +Then, seeing the stranger, she drew back with the prettiest affectation +of embarrassment in the world. + +Lizzie Erliston was pretty--decidedly pretty--with a little round, +graceful figure, snowy complexion, rosebud lips, and sparkling, +vivacious blue eyes. Graceful, thoughtless, airy, dressy, and a most +finished flirt was little Lizzie. + +"Mr. Oranmore, my daughter Liz; Liz, Mr. Oranmore, son of my old friend. +Fact! Hurry up breakfast now--I'm starving." + +"I am delighted to welcome the son of papa's friend." said Lizzie, +courtesying to the handsome stranger, who returned the salutation with +easy gallantry. + +Breakfast was brought in, and the trio, together with worthy Mrs. +Gower, were soon seated around the table. + +"I am afraid, Mr. Oranmore, you will find it very dull here, after being +accustomed to the gayety of city life. Our village is the quietest place +in the world." + +"Dull!" repeated Oranmore. "Did angels ever condescend to dwell on this +earth. I should say they had taken up their abode in St. Mark's." + +He fixed his large dark eyes on her face, and bowed with a look of such +ardent yet respectful admiration as he spoke, that Lizzie blushed +"celestial, rosy red," and thought it the prettiest speech she had ever +heard. + +"Fudge!" grunted the squire. + +"Ah, Mr. Oranmore, I see you are a sad flatterer," said the little lady, +smilingly, buttering another roll. + +"Not so, Miss Erliston. Dare I speak what I think, I should indeed be +deemed a flatterer," replied Oranmore, gallantly. + +"Bah!" muttered the squire, with a look of intense disgust. + +At this moment a child's shrill screams resounded in one of the rooms +above, growing louder and louder each moment. + +"There--that's Aurora! Just listen to the little wretch!" exclaimed +Lizzie. "That child will be the death of us yet, with her horrid yells. +Her lungs must be made of cast-iron, or something harder, for she is +incessantly screaming." + +The Squire darted an angry look at Mrs. Gower, who faltered out: She was +very sorry--that she had told Totty to be sure and keep her quiet--that +she didn't know what was the matter, she was sure---- + +"Ring the bell!" said the squire, savagely cutting her short. The +summons was answered by the little darkey, Totty. + +"Well, Totty, what's the matter?" said Lizzie. "Don't you hear the baby +squalling there like a little tempest? Why don't you attend to her?" + +"Lor! Miss Lizzie, 'twan't none o' my fault--'deed 'twan't," said the +little darkey. "Miss Roarer's a-roarin' 'cause she can't put her feet in +de sugar-bowl. 'Deed I can't 'vent her, to save my precious life. Nobody +can't do nothing wid dat 'ar little limb." + +"I'll do something to _you_ you won't like if you don't make her stop!" +said the angry squire. "Be off with you now; and, if I hear another +word, I'll--I'll twist your neck for you!" + +"Marse, I declare I can't stop her," said Totty, dodging in alarm toward +the door. + +"Be off!" thundered the squire, in a rage, hurling a hot roll at the +black head of Totty, who adroitly dodged and vanished instanter. + +"Of all diabolical inventions, young ones are the worst!" snappishly +exclaimed Squire Erliston, bringing down his fist on the table. "Pests! +plagues! abominations! Mrs. Gower, ma'am, if you don't give it a +sleeping draught when it takes to yelling, I'll--I'll--I'll----" + +"By the way, Mr. Oranmore, as you are from the city," broke in Lizzie, +"perhaps you may have heard of some one there who has lost a child?" + +"What--what did you say?--a child?" exclaimed Oranmore, starting so +suddenly and looking so wild, that all looked at him in surprise. + +"Yes. But, dear me, how pale you look! Are you ill?" + +"Ill! Oh, no; pray go on," said Oranmore, recovering himself by an +effort. + +"Well; last Christmas eve, Mrs. Gower was returning from the city, +where she had been to make purchases, and taking the shore road, picked +up an infant on the beach, and brought it home. It is a wonder no +inquiries were made about it." + +Barry Oranmore breathed freely again. It could not be _his_ child, for +he had seen the nurse before leaving the city; and she, fearing to lose +her annuity, had told him the child was alive and well: therefore it +must be another. + +A week passed rapidly away at Sunset Hall. There were sails on the bay, +and rides over the hills, and shady forest walks, and drives through the +village, and long romantic rambles in the moonlight. And Lizzie Erliston +was in love. Was _he_? She thought so sometimes when his deep, dark eyes +would rest on her, and fill with softest languor as they wandered side +by side. But, then, had she not discovered his restlessness, his evident +longing to be away, though he still remained? Something in his conduct +saddened and troubled her; for she loved him as devotedly as it was in +the power of a nature essentially shallow and selfish to love. But the +dangerous spell of his voice and smile threw a glamour over her senses. +She could almost have loved his very faults, had she known them. And, +yielding herself to that witching spell, Lizzie Erliston, who had often +caught others, at last found herself caught. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE CYPRESS WREATH. + + + "Bride, upon thy marriage-day, + Did the fluttering of thy breath + Speak of joy or woe beneath? + And the hue that went and came + On thy cheek like waving flame, + Flowed that crimson from the unrest, + Or the gladness of thy breast?"--HEMANS. + +"Squire Erliston, can I have a few moments' private conversation with +you this morning?" said Oranmore, as he sought the squire, whom Mrs. +Gower was just helping to ensconce in his easy-chair. + +"Certainly, certainly, my boy. Mrs. Gower, bring the rest of the pillows +by and by. 'Time for everything,' as Solomon says. Clear out now, ma'am, +while I attend to this young man's case." + +Barry Oranmore stood in the middle of the floor, resting one hand +lightly on the back of a chair. Squire Erliston, propped up in an +easy-chair with pillows and cushions, and wearing an unusually benign +expression of countenance--caused, probably, by Miss Aurora's +extraordinary quietness on that morning. + +"You have doubtless perceived, sir, my attentions to your daughter," +went on the young man, in a tone that was almost careless. "Miss Lizzie, +I am happy to say, returns my affection; and, in short, sir, I have +asked this interview to solicit your daughter's hand." + +He bowed slightly, and stood awaiting a reply. The squire jumped from +his seat, kicked one pillow to the other end of the room, waved another +above his head, and shouted: + +"Bless my soul! it's just what I wanted! Give us your hand, my dear boy. +Solicit her hand! Take it, take it, with all my heart. If she had a +dozen of hands, you should have them all." + +"I thank you sincerely, Squire Erliston. Believe me, it only needed your +consent to our union to fill my cup of _happiness_ to the brim." + +His voice was low--almost scornful; and the emphasis upon "happiness" +was bitter, indeed. But the squire, in his delight, neither heeded nor +noticed. + +"The wedding must come off immediately, my dear fellow. We'll have a +rousing one, and no mistake. I was afraid Liz might run off with some +penniless scamp, as Esther did; but now it's all right. Yes, the sooner +the wedding comes off the better. 'He who giveth not his daughter in +marriage, doeth well; but he who giveth her doeth better,' as Solomon +ought to know, seeing he had some thousands of 'em. Be off now, and +arrange with Lizzie the day for the wedding, while I take a sleep. When +it's all over, wake me up. There, go! Mrs. Gower! hallo! Mrs. Gower, I +say! come here with the pillows." + +Oranmore hurried out, while Mrs. Gower hurried in--he to tell Lizzie of +the success of his mission, and she to prepare her master for the arms +of Morpheus. + +That day fortnight was fixed upon as their marriage-day. The Bishop of +P---- was to visit St. Mark's, and during his advent in the village the +nuptials were to be celebrated. + +And such a busy place as Sunset Hall became after the important fact was +announced! Poor Mrs. Gower lost, perceptibly, fifty pounds of flesh, +with running in and out, and up and down stairs. Old carpets and old +servants were turned out, and new curtains and French cooks turned in. +Carpets and custards, and ice-creams and Aurora's screams, and milliners +and feathers, and flowers and flounces, and jellies and jams, and +upholstery reigned supreme, until the squire swore by all the "fiends in +flames" that it was worse than pandemonium, and rushed from the place in +despair to seek refuge with Giles Fox, and smoke his pipe in peace at +the "Eagle." + +Barry Oranmore, finding his bride so busily engaged superintending +jewels, and satins, and laces, as to be able to dispense with his +services, mounted his horse each day, and seldom returned before night. +And, amid all the bustle and confusion, no one noticed that he grew +thinner and paler day after day; nor the deep melancholy filling his +dark eyes; nor the bitter, self-scorning look his proud, handsome face +ever wore. They knew not how he paced up and down his room, night after +night, trying to still the sound of _one_ voice that was ever mournfully +calling his name. They knew not that when he quitted the +brilliantly-lighted rooms, and plunged into the deep, dark forest, it +was to shut out the sight of a sad, reproachful face, that ever haunted +him, day and night. + +Lizzie was in her glory, flitting about like a bird from morning till +night. Such wonderful things as she had manufactured out of white satin +and Mechlin lace, and such confusion as she caused--flying through the +house, boxing the servants' ears, and lecturing Mrs. Gower and shaking +Aurora--who had leave now to yell to her heart's content--and turning +everything topsy-turvy, until the squire brought down his fist with a +thump, and declared that though Solomon had said there was a time for +everything, neither Solomon, nor any other man, could ever convince him +that there was a time allotted for such a racket and rumpus as _that_. + +But out of chaos, long ago, was brought forth order; and the "eve before +the bridal" everything in Sunset Hall was restored to peace and +quietness once more. The rooms were perfectly dazzling with the glitter +of new furniture and the blaze of myriads of lusters. And such a crowd +as on the wedding night filled those splendid rooms! There was Mrs. +Gower, magnificent in brown velvet, preserved for state occasions like +the present, with such a miraculous combination of white ribbons and +lace on her head. There was the squire, edifying the public generally +with copious extracts from Solomon and some that were _not_ from +Solomon. There was Mrs. Oranmore, grim and gray as ever, moving like the +guilty shadow of a lost soul, through those gorgeous rooms and that +glittering crowd, with the miserable feeling at her heart, that her only +son was to be offered that night a sacrifice on the altar of her pride +and ambition. There was Doctor Wiseman, all legs and arms, as usual, +slinking among the guests. There was the bishop, a fat, pompous, +oily-looking gentleman, in full canonicals, waiting to tie the Gordian +knot. + +There was a bustle near the door, a swaying to and fro of the crowd, and +the bridal party entered. Every voice was instantaneously hushed, every +eye was fixed upon them. How beautiful the bride looked, with her +elegant robes and gleaming jewels, her downcast eyes, and rose-flushed +cheeks, and half-smiling lips. The eyes of all the gentlemen present +were fixed wistfully upon her. And the eyes of the ladies wandered to +the bridegroom, with something very like a feeling of awe, as they saw +how pale and cold he was looking--how different from any bridegroom they +had ever seen before. Were his thoughts wandering to _another_ bridal, +in a land beyond the sea, with one for whose blue eyes and golden hair +he would _then_ willingly have surrendered fame, and wealth, and +ambition? And now, she who had left friends, and home, and country for +his sake, was deserted for another. Yet still that unknown, penniless +girl was dearer than all the world beside. Well might he look and feel +unlike a bridegroom, with but one image filling his heart, but one name +on his lips--"_Eveleen! Eveleen!_" + +But no one there could read the heart, throbbing so tumultuously beneath +that cold, proud exterior. They passed through the long rooms--the +bishop stood before them--the service began. To _him_ it seemed like the +service for the dead--to _her_ it was the most delightful thing in the +world. There was fluttering of fans, flirting of perfumed handkerchiefs, +smiling lips and eyes, and + + "With decorum all things carried; + Miss smiled, and blushed, and then was--married." + +The ceremony was over, and Lizzie Erliston was Lizzie Erliston no +longer. + +But just at that moment, when the crowd around were about to press +forward to offer their congratulations, a loud, ringing footstep, that +sounded as though shod with steel, was heard approaching. A moment more, +and an uninvited guest stood among them. The tall, thin, sharp, angular +figure of a woman past middle age, with a grim, weird, old-maidenish +face; a stiff, rustling dress of iron-gray; a black net cap over her +grizzled locks, and a tramp like that of a dragoon, completed the +external of this rather unprepossessing figure. + +All fell back and made way for her, while a murmur: "Miss Hagar! What +brings Miss Hagar here?" passed through the room. + +She advanced straight to where Lizzie stood, leaning proudly and fondly +on the arm of Oranmore, and drawing forth a wreath of mingled cypress +and dismal yew, laid it amid the orange blossoms on the head of the +bride. + +With a shriek of superstitious terror, Lizzie tore the ominous wreath +from her head, and flung it on the floor. Heeding not the action, the +woman raised her long, gaunt, fleshless arm like an inspired sibyl, and +chanted in a voice so wild and dreary, that every heart stood still: + + "Oh, bride! woe to thee! + Ere the spring leaves deck the tree, + Those locks you now with jewels twine + Shall wear this cypress wreath of mine." + +Then striding through the awe-struck crowd, she passed out and +disappeared. + +Faint and sick with terror, Lizzie hid her face in the arm that +supported her. A moment's silence ensued, broken by the squire, who came +stamping along, exclaiming: + +"Hallo! what's the matter here! Have either of these good people +repented of their bargain, already. 'Better late than never,' as Solomon +says." + +"It was only my sister Hagar, who came here to predict fortunes, as +usual," said Doctor Wiseman, with an uneasy attempt at a laugh, "and +succeeded in scaring Miss Lizzie--Mrs. Oranmore, I mean--half out of her +wits." + +"Pooh! pooh! is that all. Liz, don't be such a little fool! There goes +the music. Let every youngster be off, on penalty of death, to the +dancing-room. 'Time to dance,' as Solomon says, and if it's not at +weddings, I'd like to know when it is. Clear!" + +Thus adjured, with a great deal of laughing and chatting, the company +dispersed. The folding-doors flew open, and merry feet were soon +tripping gayly to the music, and flirting, and laughing, and +love-making, and ice-creams were soon at their height, and Lizzie, as +she floated airily around the room in the waltz, soon forgot all about +Miss Hagar's prediction. Barry Oranmore, by an effort, shook off his +gloom, and laughed with the merriest, and waltzed with his bride, and +the pretty bride-maids; and all the time his heart was far away with +that haunting shape that had stood by his side all the night. + + * * * * * + +A month had passed away. Their bridal tour had been a short one, and the +newly wedded pair had returned to Sunset Hall. And Lizzie was at last +beginning to open her eyes, and wonder what ailed her husband. So +silent, so absent, so restless, growing more and more so day after day. +His long rides over the hills were now taken alone; and he would only +return to lie on a lounge in some darkened room, with his face hidden +from view by his long, neglected locks. At first she pouted a little at +this; but seeing it produced no effect, she at last concluded to let him +have his own way, and she would take hers. So evening after evening, +while he lay alone, so still and motionless, in his darkened chamber, +Lizzie frequented parties and _soirees_, giving plausible excuses for +her husband's absence, and was the gayest of the gay. + +One morning, returning with the gray dawn, from an unusually brilliant +_soiree_, she inquired for her husband, and learned that, half an hour +before, he had called for his horse and ridden off. This did not +surprise her, for it had often happened so before; so, without giving +the matter a second thought, she flung herself on her bed, and fell fast +asleep. + +Half an hour after the sound of many feet, and a confused murmur of many +voices below, fell on her ear. + +Wondering what it could mean, she raised herself on her elbow to +listen, when the door was burst open; and Totty, gray, gasping, +horror-stricken, stood before her. + +"Totty, what in the name of heaven is the matter!" exclaimed Lizzie, in +surprise and alarm. + +"Oh, missus! Oh, missus!" were the only words the frightened negress +could utter. + +"Merciful heaven! what has happened?" exclaimed Lizzie, springing to her +feet, in undefined terror. "Totty, Totty, tell me, or I shall go and +see." + +"Oh, Miss Lizzie! Oh, Miss Lizzie!" cried the girl, falling on her +knees, "for de dear Lord's sake, don't go. Oh, Miss Lizzie, it's too +drefful to tell! It would kill you!" + +With a wild cry, Lizzie snatched her robe from the clinging hands that +held it, and fled from the room down the long staircase. There was a +crowd round the parlor door; all the servants were collected there, and +inside she could see many of the neighbors gathered. She strove to force +her way through the throng of appalled servants, who mechanically made +way for her to pass. + +"Keep her back--keep her back, I tell you," cried the voice of Dr. +Wiseman, "would you kill her?" + +A score of hands were extended to keep her back, but they were too late. +She had entered, and a sight met her eyes that sent the blood curdling +with horror to her heart. A wild, terrific shriek rang through the +house, as she threw up both arms and fell, in strong convulsions, on the +floor. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +Gipsy. + + + "A little, wild-eyed, tawny child, + A fairy sprite, untamed and wild, + Like to no one save herself, + A laughing, mocking, gipsy elf." + +Year after year glides away, and we wonder vaguely that they can have +passed. On our way to the grave we may meet many troubles, but time +obliterates them all, and we learn to laugh and talk as merrily again as +though the grass was not growing between our face and one we could never +love enough. But such is life. + +Ten years have passed away at St. Mark's since the close of our last +chapter; ten years of dull, tedious monotony. The terrible sight that +had met Lizzie Oranmore's eyes that morning, was the dead form of her +young husband. He had been riding along at his usual reckless, headlong +pace, and had been thrown from his horse and killed. + +Under the greensward in the village church-yard, they laid his +world-weary form to rest, with only the name inscribed on the cold, +white marble to tell he had ever existed. And no one dreamed of the +youthful romance that had darkened all the life of Barry Oranmore. Lying +on the still heart, that had once beat so tumultuously, they found the +miniature of a fair young face and a long tress of sunny hair. Wondering +silently to whom they belonged, good Mrs. Gower laid them aside, little +dreaming of what they were one day to discover. + +Lizzie, with her usual impulsiveness, wept and sobbed for a time +inconsolably. But it was not in her shallow, thoughtless nature to +grieve long for any one; and ere a year had passed, she laughed as gayly +and sang as merrily as ever. + +Sometimes, it may be, when her child--her boy--would look up in her face +with the large dark eyes of him who had once stolen her girlish heart +away, tears for a moment would weigh down her golden eyelashes; but the +next instant the passing memory was forgotten, and her laugh again rang +out merry and clear. + +And so the ten years had passed, and no change had taken place at Sunset +Hall save that it was far from being the quiet place it had been +formerly. + +Has the reader forgotten Aurora, the little foundling of yelling +notoriety? If so, it is no fault of hers, for that shrill-voiced young +lady never allowed herself to be pushed aside to make room for any one. +Those ten years at least made a change in her. + +See her now, as she stands with her dog by her side, for a moment, to +rest, in the quaint old porch fronting Sunset Hill. She has been romping +with Lion this morning, and now, panting and breathless, she pauses for +an instant to prepare for a fresh race. There she stands! A little, +slight, wiry, agile figure, a little thin, dark, but bright and +sparkling face, with small, irregular features, never for a moment at +rest. With a shower of short, crisp, dark curls streaming in the breeze, +every shining ring dancing with life, and fire, and mirth, and mischief. +And with such eyes, looking in her face you forgot every other feature +gazing in those "bonny wells of brown," that seemed fairly scintillating +wickedness. How they did dance, and flash, and sparkle, with youth, and +glee, and irrepressible fun--albeit the darker flame that now and then +leaped from their shining depths bespoke a wild, fierce spirit, untamed +and daring, slumbering in her heart, quiet and unaroused as yet, but +which would one day burst forth, scathing, blighting all on whom it +fell. + +And such is Aurora Gower. A wild, dark, elfish changeling, not at all +pretty, but the most bewitching sprite withal, that ever kept a +household in confusion. Continually getting into scrapes and making +mischief, and doing deeds that would have been unpardonable in any one +else, Aurora, in some mysterious way of her own, escaped censure, and +the most extravagant actions were passed over with the remark, that it +was "just like her--just what you might expect from a gipsy." Owing to +her dark skin and wild habits, "Gipsy" was the name by which Mrs. +Gower's _protegee_ was universally known. With every one she was a +favorite, for though always saucy, often impertinent, and invariably +provoking, it was impossible to be angry with a little fairy of a +creature whom they could almost hold up between their finger and thumb. + +As for the burly old squire, he could as soon think of getting along +without his brandy as without Gipsy. For though they continually +quarreled, he abusing her unmercifully, and she retorting impudently, +yet, when Gipsy at the end would flounce out in a towering passion, she +was sure a few hours after to find a peace-offering from the old man, in +the shape of a costly gift, lying on her table. After some coaxing she +would consent to forgive him, and Squire Erliston and his little ward +would smoke the calumet of peace (figuratively speaking); but, alas! for +the short-lived truce--ere another hour the war of words would be raging +"fast and furious" once more. + +Good Mrs. Gower zealously strove to impress on the wayward elf a +becoming respect for the head of the household; and sometimes, in a fit +of penitence, Aurora would promise "not to give Guardy any more bile," +but being by nature woefully deficient in the bump of reverence, the +promise had never been kept; and at last the worthy housekeeper gave up +the task in despair. + +And so Aurora was left pretty much to follow her "own sweet will," and +no one need wonder that she grew up the maddest, merriest elf that ever +danced in the moonlight. At the age of eleven she could ride with the +best horseman for miles around, hunt like a practiced sportsman, bring +down a bird on the wing with her unerring bullet, and manage a boat with +the smartest fisherman in St. Marks. Needle-work, dolls, and other +amusements suitable for her age, she regarded with the utmost contempt, +and with her curls streaming behind her, her hat swinging in her hand, +she might be seen flying about the village from morning till night, +always running, for she was too quick and impetuous to walk. In the +stormiest weather, when the winds were highest and the sea roughest, she +would leap into one of the fishermen's boats, and unheeding storm and +danger, go out with them, in spite of commands and entreaties to the +contrary, until danger and daring became with her second nature. But +while Aurora has been standing for her picture the rest of the family +have assembled in the breakfast-parlor of Mount Sunset Hall. Languidly +stretched on a sofa lay Lizzie Oranmore. Those ten years have made no +change in her; just the same rose-leaf complexion, the same round, +little graceful figure, the same coquettish airs and graces as when we +saw her last. She might readily have been taken for the elder sister of +her son, Louis, who stood by the window sketching the view before him. + +There was a striking resemblance between Louis and his dead father; the +same clear, olive complexion, the same sable locks and bold black eyes, +the same scornful, curving upper lip, and the same hot, rash, impetuous +nature. But with all his fiery impetuosity he was candid, open and +generous, the soul of honor and frankness, but with a nature which, +according as it was trained, must be powerful for good or evil. + +Sitting propped up in an easy-chair, with his gouty leg, swathed in +flannel, stretched on two chairs, was the squire, looking in no very +sweet frame of mind. The morning paper, yet damp from the press, lay +before him; but the squire's attention would wander from it every moment +to the door. + +"Where's that little wretch this morning?" broke out the squire, at +last, throwing down his paper impatiently. + +"I really can't say," replied Lizzie, opening her eyes languidly. "I saw +her racing over the hills this morning, with those dreadful dogs of +hers. I expect she will be back soon." + +"And we must wait for her ladyship!" growled the squire. "I'll cane her +within an inch of her life if she doesn't learn to behave herself. +'Spare the child and spoil the rod,' as Solomon says." + +"Here she comes!" exclaimed Louis, looking up. "Speak of Satan and he'll +appear." + +"Satan! She's no Satan, I'd have you know, you young jackanapes!" said +the squire, angrily, for though always abusing the "little vixen," +Aurora, himself, he would suffer no one else to do it. + +"Look, look how she dashes along!" exclaimed Louis, with kindling eyes, +unheeding the reproof. "There! she has leaped her pony over the gate, +and now she is standing up in her saddle; and--bravo! well done, Gipsy! +She has actually sprung over black Jupe's head in a flying leap." + +While he spoke Gipsy came running up the lawn toward the house, singing, +in a high, shrill voice, as she ran: + + "He died long, long ago, long ago-- + He had no hair on the top of his head, + The place where the wool ought to grow, + Lay down the shovel and the hoe-o-o, + Hang up----" + +"Stop that, stop that, you vixen! Stop it, I tell you, or I'll hang +_you_ up!" said the squire, angrily. "Where do you learn those vulgar +doggerels?" + +"Make 'em up, Guardy--every one of 'em. Ain't I a genius?" + +"I don't believe it, you scapegrace." + +"No wonder you don't, seeing there never was a genius in the family +before; but 'better late than never,' you know." + +"None of your impertinence, miss. Give an account of yourself, if you +please. Where were you this morning? Answer me _that_!" + +"Nowhere, sir." + +"Don't tell stories, you little sinner. Where is nowhere?" + +"Over to Doctor Spider's." + +"Gipsy, my dear, why will you persist in calling Doctor Wiseman +nicknames?" remonstrated Lizzie. + +"Why, Aunt Liz, because he's just like a spider, for all the world--all +legs," flippantly replied Gipsy. + +"And what business had you there, monkey? Didn't I tell you not to go? I +thought I told you _never_ to go there!" said the squire, in rising +wrath. + +"Know it, Guardy, and that's just the reason I went." + +"Because I forbade you, eh?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"You--you--you disobedient little hussy, you! Aren't you ashamed of +yourself?" + +"Ashamed!--what of? I haven't got the gout in my leg." + +"Gipsy, you dreadful child, hush!" said Lizzie, in alarm. + +"Oh, let her go on! She's just as you taught her, madam. And as to you, +Miss Gipsy, or Aurora, or whatever your name is, let me tell you, the +gout is nothing to be ashamed of. It runs in the most respectable +families, miss." + +"Lord, Guardy! What a pity I can't have it, too, and help to keep up the +respectability of the family!" + +Louis turned to the window, and struggled violently with a laugh, which +he endeavored to change into a cough, and the laugh and cough meeting, +produced a choking sensation. This sent Gipsy to his aid, who, after +administering sundry thumps on his back with her little closed fists, +restored him to composure, and the squire returned to the charge. + +"And now, to 'return to our mutton,' as Solomon says; or--hold on a +minute--was it Solomon who said that?" + +The squire paused, and placed his finger reflectively on the point of +his nose, in deep thought; but being unable to decide, he looked up, and +went on: + +"Yes, miss, as I was saying, what took you over to Deep Dale so early +this morning? Tell me that." + +"Well, if I must, I must, I s'pose--so here goes." + +"Hallo, Gipsy!" interrupted Louis. "Take care--you're making poetry." + +"No, sir! I scorn the accusation!" said Gipsy, drawing herself up. "But, +Guardy, since I _must_ tell you, I went over to see--ahem!--Archie!" + +"You did!" grunted Guardy. "Humph! humph! humph!" + +"Don't take it so much to heart, Guardy. No use grieving--'specially as +the grief might settle in your poor afflicted leg--limb, I mean." + +"And may I ask, young lady, what you could possibly want with him?" said +the squire, sternly. + +"Oh, fifty things! He's my beau, you know." + +"Your beau!--_your_ beau!--your BEAU! My conscience!" + +"Yes, sir, we're engaged." + +"You are? 'Oh, Jupiter,' as Solomon says. Pray, madam (for such I +presume you consider yourself), when will you be twelve years old?" + +"Oh, as soon as I can. I don't want to be an old maid." + +"So it seems, you confounded little Will-o'-the-wisp. And will you be +good enough to inform us how this precious engagement came about?" said +the squire, with a savage frown. + +"With pleasure, sir. You see, we went out to gather grapes in the wood +one day, and we had a splendiferous time. And says I, 'Archie, ain't +this nice?'--and says he 'Yes'--and says I, 'Wouldn't it be nice if we'd +get married?'--and says he, 'Yes'--and says I, '_Will_ you have me, +though?'--and says he, 'Yes'--and says I----" + +"'Ain't we a precious pair of fools?' and says he, 'Yes,'" interrupted +the squire, mimicking her. "Oh, you're a nice gal--you're a pretty young +lady!" + +"Yes, ain't I, now? You and I are of one opinion there, exactly. Ain't +you proud of me?" + +"_Proud_ of you, you barefaced little wretch! I'd like to twist your +neck for you!" thundered the squire. + +"Better not, Guardy; you'd be hung for _man_-slaughter if you did, you +know." + +"_You_ don't call yourself a man, I hope!" said Louis. + +"Well, if I don't, I'm a girl--which is a thousand times nicer. And +speaking of girls, reminds me that Miss Hagar's got the dearest, +darlingest, _beautifulest_ little girl you ever set your eyes on." + +"Miss Hagar?" they all exclaimed in surprise. + +"Yes, to be sure. Law! you needn't look so astonished; this is a free +country. And why can't Miss Hagar have a little girl, if she wants to, +as well as anybody else, I'd like to know?" exclaimed Gipsy, rather +indignantly. + +"To be sure," said Louis, who took the same view of the case as Gipsy. + +"Where did she get it?--whose little girl is it?" inquired Lizzie, +slightly roused from her languor by the news. + +"Don't know, I'm sure; nobody don't. She was off somewhere poking round +all day yesterday, and came home at night with this little girl. Oh, +Louis, she's such a dear little thing!" + +"Is she?" said Louis, absently. + +"Yes, indeed--with a face like double-refined moonlight, and long, +yellow hair, and blue eyes, and pink dress, and cheeks to match. She's +twice as pretty as Minette; and Miss Hagar's going to keep her, and +teach her to tell fortunes, I expect." + +"I wonder Dr. Wiseman allows Miss Hagar to fill the house with little +beggars," said Lizzie. + +"Oh, Spider's got nothing to do with it. Miss Hagar has money of her +own, and can keep her if she likes. Pity if she'd have to ask permission +of that 'thing of legs and arms,' everything she wants to do." + +"Gipsy, my dear, you really must not speak so of Dr. Wiseman: it's +positively shocking," said the highly-scandalized Mrs. Oranmore. + +"Well, I don't care; he _is_ a 'thing of legs and arms.' There, now!" + +"What's the little girl's name, Gipsy?" inquired Louis. + +"_Celeste_--isn't it pretty? And she--oh, she's a darling, and no +mistake. _Wouldn't_ I marry her if I was a man--maybe I wouldn't." + +"What's her other name?" + +"Got none--at least she said so; and, as I didn't like to tell her she +told a story, I asked Miss Hagar, and _she_ told me to mind my own +business; yes, she actually did. Nobody minds how they talk to me. +People haven't a bit of respect for me; and I have to put up with _sass_ +from every one. I won't stand it much longer, either. There!" + +"No, I wouldn't advise you to," said Louis. "Better _sit_ down; no use +in standing it." + +"Wiseman's a fool if he lets that crazy tramp, his sister, support +beggars in his house," exclaimed the squire, in a threatening tone. +"Lunatics like her should not be allowed to go at large. He has no +business to permit it." + +"I'd like to see him trying to stop it," said Gipsy. "I'd be in his +wool." + +"_You!_" said the squire, contemptuously. "What could a little Tom Thumb +in petticoats, like you, do?" + +"Look here, now, Guardy, don't call a lady names. When you speak of Tom +Thumb, you know, it's getting personal. What could I do? Why, I'd set +his house on fire some night about his ears, or some day, when out +shooting, a bullet might strike him accidentally on purpose. It takes me +to defend injured innocence," said Gipsy, getting up, and squaring-off +in an attitude of defiance, as she exclaimed: "Come on, old Wiseman, I'm +ready for you!" + +"Well, I can't allow you to associate with beggars. You must never go to +Deep Dale again. I can't countenance his proceedings. If he choose to +make a fool of himself, it's no reason why I should do so too." + +"None in the world, sir--especially as nature has saved you that +trouble." + +"You audacious little demon, you! what do you mean?" + +"Ahem! I was just observing, sir, that it's time for breakfast," said +Gipsy, demurely. + +"Humph! humph! well, ring for Mrs. Gower, and hold your tongue." + +"Sorry I can't oblige you, Guardy. But how can I hold my tongue and +eat?" + +"I wish I could find something to take the edge off it; it's altogether +too sharp," growled the old man to himself. + +Mrs. Gower, fat and good-natured as ever, entered at this moment; and, +as they assembled round the table, the squire--who, though he generally +got the worst of the argument, would never let Gipsy rest--again resumed +the subject. + +"Mind, monkey, you're not to go to Deep Dale again; I forbid +you--positively forbid you." + +"Lor! Guardy, you don't say so!" + +"Don't be disrespectful, minx. If I'm your guardian, you shall obey me. +You heard me say so before, didn't you?" + +"Why, yes, I think so; but, then, you say so many things, a body can't +be expected to remember them all. You _must_ be talking, you know; and +you might as well be saying that as anything else." + +"But I am determined you shall obey me this time. Do you hear? At your +peril, minion, _dare_ to go there again!" thundered the squire. + +"That very pretty, Guardy, won't you say it over again," replied the +tantalizing elf. + +"Gipsy! oh, Gipsy, my dear!" chanted the ladies Gower and Oranmore, in a +horrified duet. + +"You--you--you--little, yellow abomination you! You--you--skinny----" + +"Squire Erliston," said Gipsy, drawing herself up with stately dignity, +"let me remind you, you are getting to be personal. How would you like +it if I called _you_--you--you red-faced old fright--you--you--you +gouty-legged----" + +"There! there! that'll do," hastily interrupted the squire, while a +universal shout of laughter went round the table at the ludicrous manner +in which the little imp mimicked his blustering tone. "There, there! +don't say a word about it; but mind, if you dare to go to Dr. Wiseman's, +you'll rue it. Mind that." + +"All right, sir; let me help you to another roll," said Gipsy, with her +sweetest smile, as she passed the plate to the old man, who looked, not +only daggers, but bowie-knives at the very least. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +A STORM AT MOUNT SUNSET HALL. + + "At this Sir Knight grew high in wrath, + And lifting hands and eyes up both, + Three times he smote his stomach stout, + From whence, at length, fierce words broke out." + HUDIBRAS. + +"Totty! Totty! I say, Totty, where are you? I declare to screech, I +never saw such a provoking darkey in my life. Nobody never can find her +when she's wanted! Totty! Totty! hallo, Totty! I want you dreadfully, +it's a matter of life and death! If that girl doesn't pay more attention +to me, I'll--I'll discharge her; _I will_, so help me Jimmy Johnston! +Totty! Totty-y-y!" So called and shouted Gipsy, as she flew in and out, +and up and down stairs, banging doors after her with a noise that made +the old house ring, and scolding at the top of her voice all the time. + +"Laws! Miss Roarer, here I is," said Totty, hurrying as fast as possible +into the presence of the little virago, to get rid of the noise. + +"Oh, it's a wonder you came! I s'pose you'd rather be lounging down in +the kitchen than 'tending to your mistress. How dare you go away, when +you don't know what minute I may want you? Hey?" + +"Good Lor! Miss Roarer, I only went down to de kitchen to get my +breakfas' 'long o' the res'. How you 'spec I's gwine to live 'thout +eatin'? You allers _does_ call jes' the contrariest time, allers----" + +"Hold your tongue!" exclaimed her imperious little mistress; "don't +give me any of your _imperunce_! There, curl my hair, and put on my +pretty purple riding-habit, and make me just as pretty as ever you can. +Hurry up!" + +"Make you pretty, indeed!" muttered the indignant Totty; "'deed, when de +Lord couldn't do it, 'taint very likely I can. Come 'long and keep +still, two or free minutes, if you can. I never knew such a res'less +little critter in all my life." + +While Gipsy was standing as quietly as her fidgety nature would allow, +to have her hair curled, Mrs. Gower entered. + +"Well, 'Rora, my dear, where are you going this morning, that you are +dressing in your best?" said Mrs. Gower, glancing at the gay purple +riding-habit--for dress was a thing Gipsy seldom troubled herself about. + +"Why, aunty, where _would_ I be going; over to Spider's, of course." + +"Oh, Gipsy, my dear, pray don't think of such a thing!" exclaimed the +good woman, in a tone of alarm. "Your guardian will be dreadfully +angry." + +"Lor! aunty, I know that; there wouldn't be any fun in it if he wasn't," +replied the elf. + +"Oh, Aurora, child! you don't know what you're doing. Consider all he +has done for you, and how ungrateful it is of you to disobey him in this +manner. Now, he has set his heart on keeping you from Deep Dale (you +know he never liked the doctor nor his family), and he will be terribly, +frightfully angry if he finds you have disobeyed him. Ride over the +hills, go out sailing or shooting, but do not go there." + +Gipsy, who had been yawning fearfully during this address, now jerked +herself away from Totty, and replied, impatiently: + +"Well, _let_ him get frightfully angry; I'll get 'frightfully angry' +too, and so there will be a pair of us. Do you s'pose I'd miss seeing +that dear, sweet, little girl again, just because Guardy will stamp, and +fume, and roar, and scare all mankind into fits? Not I, indeed. Let him +come on, who's afraid," and Gipsy threw herself into a stage attitude, +and shouted the words in a voice that was quite imposing, coming as it +did from so small a body. + +"Oh, Gipsy, child! consider," again began Mrs. Gower. + +"Oh, aunty, dear! I won't consider, never did; don't agree with my +constitution, no how you can fix it. Archie told me one day when I was +doing something he considered a crazy trick, to 'consider.' Well, for +his sake, I tried to, and before ten minutes, aunty, I felt symptoms of +falling into a decline. There now!" + +"Oh, my dear! my dear! you are incorrigible," sighed Mrs. Gower; "but +what would you do if your guardian some day turned you out of doors? You +have no claim on him, and he _might_ do it, you know, in a fit of +anger." + +"If he did"--exclaimed Gipsy, springing up with flashing eyes. + +"Well, and if he did, what would you do?" + +"Why, I'd defy him to his face, and then I'd run off, and go to sea, and +make my fortune, and come back, and marry you--no, I couldn't do that, +but I'd marry Archie. Lor! I'd get along splendidly." + +"Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy! rightly named Gipsy! how little you know what it is +to be friendless in the world, you poor little fairy you! Now, child, be +quiet, and talk sensibly to me for a few minutes." + +"Oh, bother, aunty! I can't be quiet; and as to talking sensibly, why I +rather think I am doing that just now. There, now--now do, please, +bottle up that lecture you've got for me, and it'll keep, for I'm off!" +And darting past them, she ran down stairs, through the long hall, and +was flying toward the stables in a twinkling. + +On her way she met our old friend, Jupiter. + +"Hallo, Jupe! Oh, there you are! Go and saddle Mignonne _'mediately_. I +want him; quick, now!" + +"Why, Miss Roarer, honey, I'se sorry for ter diserblige yer, chile, but +ole mas'r he tole me not to let yer get Minnin to-day," said Jupiter, +looking rather uneasily at the dark, wild, little face, and large, +lustrous eyes, in which a storm was fast brewing. + +"Do you mean to say he told you not to let me have my pony?" she said, +or rather hissed, through her tightly-clenched teeth. + +"Jes' so, Miss Roarer; he tell me so not ten minutes ago." + +"Now, Jupiter, look here; you go right off and saddle Mignonne, or it'll +be the worse for you. D'ye hear?" + +"Miss Roarer, I 'clare for't I dassent. Mas'r'll half kill me." + +"And I'll _whole_ kill you if you don't," said Gipsy, with a wild flash +of her black eyes, as she sprang lightly on a high stone bench, and +raised her riding-whip over the head of the trembling darkey; "go, sir; +go right off and do as I tell you!" + +"Laws! I can't--'deed chile! I can't----" + +Whack! whack! whack! with no gentle hand went the whip across his +shoulders, interrupting his apology. + +"There, you black rascal! will you dare to disobey your mistress again!" +Whack! whack! whack!" If you don't bring Mignonne out this minute, I'll +shoot you dead as a mackerel! There; does that argument overcome your +scruples?" whack! whack! _whack!_ + +With something between a yell and a howl, poor Jupiter sprung back, and +commenced rubbing his afflicted back. + +"Will you go?" demanded Gipsy, raising her whip once more. + +"Yes! yes! Who ever did see such a 'bolical little limb as dat ar. Ole +mas'r'll kill me, I knows he will," whimpered poor Jupiter as he slunk +away to the stables, closely followed by his vixenish little mistress, +still poising the dangerous whip. + +Mignonne, a small, black, fleet-footed, spirited Arabian, was led forth, +pawing the ground and tossing his head, as impatient to be off, even, as +his young mistress. + +"That's right, Jupe," said Gipsy, as she sprang into the saddle and +gathered up the reins; "but mind, for the future, never dare to disobey +_me_, no matter what anybody says. Mind, if you do, look out for a +pistol-ball, some night, through your head." + +Jupiter, who had not the slightest doubt but what the mad-headed little +witch would do it as soon as not, began whimpering like a whipped +schoolboy. Between the Scylla of his master's wrath, and the Charybdis +of his willful little mistress, poor Jupiter knew not which way to +steer. + +"Don't cry, Jupe--there's a good fellow," said Gipsy, touched by his +distress. "Keep out of your master's sight till I come back, and I'll +take all the blame upon myself. There, now--off we go, Mignonne!" + +And waving her plumed hat above her head, with a shout of triumphant +defiance as she passed the house, Gipsy went galloping down the road +like a flash. + +The sky, which all the morning had looked threatening, was rapidly +growing darker and darker. About half an hour after the departure of +Gipsy, the storm burst upon them in full fury. The wind howled fiercely +through the forest, the rain fell in torrents, the lightning flashed in +one continued sheet of blue electric flame, the thunder crashed peal +upon peal, until heaven and earth seemed rending asunder. + +The frightened inmates of Sunset Hall were huddled together, shivering +with fear. The doors and windows were closed fast, and the servants, +gray with terror, were cowering in alarm down in the kitchen. + +"Lor' have massy 'pon us! who ever seed sich lightnin'? 'Pears as though +all de worl' was 'luminated, and de las' day come!" said Jupiter, his +teeth chattering with terror. + +"An' Miss Roarer, she's out in all de storm, an' ole mas'r don't know +it," said Totty. "She _would_ go, spite of all Missus Scour said. I +'clare to man, that dat ar rampin', tarryfyin' little limb's 'nuff to +drive one clar 'stracted. I ain't no peace night nor day 'long o' her +capers. Dar!" + +"Won't we cotch it when mas'r finds out she's gone," said a +cunning-looking, curly-headed little darkey, whom Gipsy had nicknamed +Bob-o-link, with something like a chuckle; "good Lor! jes' see ole mas'r +a swearin' an' tearin' round', an' kickin' de dogs an' niggers, an' +smashin' de res' ob de furnitur'. Oh, Lor!" And evidently overcome by +the ludicrous scene which fancy had conjured up, Bob-o-link threw +himself back, and went off into a perfect convulsion of laughter, to the +horror of the rest. + +While this discussion was going on below stairs, a far different scene +was enacting above. + +At the first burst of the storm, Lizzie and Mrs. Gower hastened in +affright to the parlor, where the squire was peacefully snoring in his +arm-chair, and Louis was still finishing his sketch. + +The noise and bustle of their entrance aroused the squire from his +slumbers, and after sundry short snorts he woke up, and seeing the +state of affairs, his first inquiry was for Gipsy. + +"Where's that little abomination, now?" he abruptly demanded, in a tone +that denoted his temper was not improved by the sudden breaking up of +his nap. + +All were silent. Mrs. Gower through fear, and the others through +ignorance. + +"Where is she? where is she, I say?" thundered the squire. "Doesn't +somebody know?" + +"Most likely up stairs somewhere," said Louis. "Shall I go and see?" + +"No, you sha'n't 'go and see.' It's the duty of the women there to look +after her, but they don't do it. She might be lost, or murdered, or +killed, fifty times a day, for all they care. 'Who trusteth in the +ungodly shall be deceived,' as Solomon says. Ring that bell." + +Louis obeyed; and in a few minutes Totty, quaking with terror, made her +appearance. + +"Where's your young mistress? Where's Miss Gipsy, eh?" demanded the +squire, in an awful voice. + +"Deed, mas'r, she's rode off. I couldn't stop her nohow, 'deed----" + +"Rode off!" shouted the squire, as, forgetful of his gouty leg, he +sprang to his feet; "rode off in this storm? Villains! wretches! demons! +I'll murder every one of you! Out in this storm! Good Lord! Clear out, +every living soul of you, and if one of you return without her, +I'll--I'll blow his brains out!" roared the old man, purple with rage. + +"Why, grandfather," said Louis, while the rest cowered with fear, "it is +not likely Gipsy is out exposed to the storm. There are many places of +shelter well-known to her among the hills, and there she will stay until +this hurricane is over. It would be impossible for any one to find her +now, even though they could ride through this storm." + +"Silence!" thundered the squire; "they must find her! Here, Jupe, Jake, +Bob, and the rest of you, mount, and off in search of Miss Aurora over +the hills, and at the peril of your life, return without her. Be off! +go! vanish! and mind ye, be sure to bring her home." + +"Law! mas'r, Miss Roarer ain't over de hills. She's gone over to Deep +Dale," said Totty. + +"WHAT!" exclaimed the squire, pausing in his rage, aghast, thunderstruck +at the news. + +"'Deed, Lord knows, mas'r, I couldn't stop her." + +"You--you--you--diabolical imp you!" roared the old man, seizing his +crutch, and hurling it at her head, as Totty, in mortal alarm, dodged +and fled from the room. "Oh, the little demon! the little wretch! won't +I pay her for this, when I get hold of her! the--the disobedient, +ungrateful, undutiful hussy! I'll cane her within an inch of her life! +I'll lock her up on bread and water! I'll keep her in the house day and +night! I'll--oh, Lord, my leg," he exclaimed, with a groan, as he fell +back, powerless, between rage and despair, in his seat. + +Mrs. Gower and Lizzie, still quaking with terror, drew farther into the +corner to escape his notice, while Louis bent still lower over his +drawing to hide a smile that was breaking over his face. + +At this moment a fresh burst of rain and wind shook the doors and +windows of the old house, and with it the squire's rage broke out +afresh. + +"Call Jupe! Be off, Louis, and tell him to ride over to Deep Dale this +instant, and bring that little fiend home! And tell him if he doesn't +return with her in less than half an hour, I'll break every bone in his +body! Go!" + +Louis accordingly repaired to the kitchen and delivered the order to +poor Jupiter--who, bemoaning his hard fate in being obliged to serve so +whimsical a master, was forced to set out in the storm in search of the +capricious Gipsy. + +Half an hour, three-quarters passed, and then Jupiter, soaking with +rain, and reeking with sweat, came galloping back; but like young +Lochinvar, immortalized in the song: + + "He rode unattended and rode all alone," + +and gray, and shaking, and trembling with fear and expectation of the +"wrath which was to come," he presented himself before his master. + +"Well, sir, where's Miss Gipsy?" shouted the old man, as he entered. + +"Mas'r, I couldn't bring her, to save my precious life; she wouldn't +come, nohow. I tell her you wanted her in a desprit hurry; and she said, +s'posin' you waited till your hurry was over. I said you tole me not to +come home 'thout her; and she said, very well, I might stay all night, +if I liked, 'cause she warn't comin' home till to-morrer. I tole her you +was t'arin' mad; and she said, you'd better have patience, and smoke +your pipe. I couldn't do nothin' 'tall with her, so I left, an' come +back, an' dat's all." And without waiting for the burst of wrath which +he saw coming, Jupiter beat a precipitate retreat to the lower regions. + +You should have seen the wrath of Squire Erliston then. How he stamped, +and raged, and swore, and threatened, until he nearly frightened Lizzie +into hysterics, used as she was to his fits of passion. And then, at +last, when utterly exhausted, he ordered the servants to go and prepare +a large, empty room, which had long been unused, as a prison for Gipsy, +upon her return. Everything was taken out of it, and here the squire +vowed she should remain until she had learned to obey him for the +future. Then, relapsing into sulky silence, he sat down, "nursing his +wrath to keep it warm," until the return of the little delinquent. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +MISS HAGAR. + + + "Let me gaze for a moment, that ere I die, + I may read thee, lady, a prophecy: + That brow may beam in glory awhile, + That cheek may bloom, and that lip may smile; + But clouds shall darken that brow of snow, + And sorrows blight that bosom's glow." + --L. DAVISON. + +Meantime, while the squire was throwing the household of Sunset Hall +into terror and consternation, the object of his wrath was enjoying +herself with audacious coolness at Deep Dale. + +The family of Doctor Nicholas Wiseman consisted of one daughter, a year +or two older than Gipsy, a nephew called Archie Rivers, and a maiden +step-sister, Miss Hagar Dedley. The doctor, who was naturally grasping +and avaricious, would not have burdened himself with the care of those +two had it been anything out of his own pocket. The parents of Archie +Rivers had been tolerably wealthy, and at their death had left him quite +a fortune, and amply remunerated the doctor for taking charge of him +until he should be of age. Miss Hagar had a slender income, sufficient +for her wants, and was permitted a room in his house as long as she +should continue to take care of herself. + +Deep Dale had once been the residence of a wealthy and aristocratic +family, but had by some unknown means passed from their hands to those +of Doctor Wiseman. + +It was, as its name implied, a long, deep, sloping dale, with the forest +of St. Mark's towering darkly behind, and a wide, grassy lawn sloping +down from the front. The house itself was a long, low, irregular mansion +of gray sandstone, with a quaint, pleasant, old-fashioned look. + +Evening was now approaching. The curtains were drawn, the lamps lighted, +and the family assembled in the plainly, almost scantily, furnished +sitting-room. + +By the fire, in a large leathern arm-chair, sat our old acquaintance, +the doctor, with one long, lean leg crossed over the other, one eye +closed, and the other fixed so intently on the floor that he seemed to +be counting the threads in the carpet. Years have done anything but add +to his charms, his face never looked so much like yellow parchment as it +did then, his arms and legs were longer and skinnier-looking than ever, +and altogether, a more unprepossessing face could hardly have been +discovered. + +By the table, knitting, sat Miss Hagar. Her tall, thin figure, and +grave, solemn face, made her look almost majestic, as, with her lips +firmly compressed, she knit away in grim silence. Unlike other +spinsters, she neither petted dogs nor cats, but had a most +unaccountable mania for fortune-telling, and had been, for years, the +seeress and sibyl of the whole neighborhood. + +In a distant corner of the room sat the little _protegee_ of Miss Hagar, +with Gipsy on one side of her, and Archie Rivers on the other, regarding +her as though she were some sort of natural curiosity. And, truly, a +more lovely child could scarcely have been found. + +She appeared to be about the same age as Gipsy, but was taller and more +graceful, with a beautifully rounded figure, not plump, like that of +most children, but slender and elegant, and lithe as a willow wand. A +small, fair, sweet face, with long, golden hair, and soft, dreamy eyes +of blue, and a smile like an angel's. + +Such was Celeste! + +Such a contrast as she was to Gipsy, as she sat with her little white +hands folded in her lap, the long golden lashes falling shyly over the +blue eyes; her low, sweet voice and timid manner, so still and gentle; +and her elfish companion, with her dark, bright face, her eager, +sparkling, restless eyes, her short, sable locks, and her every motion +so quick and startling, as to make one nervous watching her. + +Archie Rivers, a merry, good-looking lad, with roguish blue eyes and a +laughing face, sat, alternately watching the fair, downcast face of +Celeste, and the piquant, gipsyish countenance of the other. + +At the table sat Minnette Wiseman, a proud, superb-looking girl of +twelve. Her long, jet-black hair fell in glossy braids over her +shoulders; her elbows rested on the table; her chin supported by her +hands; her large, glittering black eyes fixed on Celeste, with a look of +fixed dislike and jealousy that was never to die out during life. + +"And so you have no other name but Celeste," said Gipsy, trying to peer +under the drooping lashes resting on the blue-veined cheek. "Now, if +that isn't funny! Everybody has two names but you--even _me_. I have two +names." + +"Yes, Gipsy Gower. There is something odd and elfinish in the very +name," said Archie, laughing. + +"Elfinish? It's no such thing. It's a great deal prettier than yours, +Archie Rivers! And where did you live before you came here, Celeste?" +continued Gipsy, returning to the charge. + +"With Aunt Katie," replied Celeste, softly. + +"And where is she now?" went on Gipsy. + +"Dead!" said the child, while her lip trembled, and a tear fell on the +little brown hand lying on her own. + +"Do tell! and I've made you cry, too. Now, if that ain't too bad. Do you +know, Celeste, I never cried in my life?" + +"Oh, what a fib!" exclaimed Archie. "You were the horridest young one to +cry ever I heard in my life. You did nothing but yell and roar from +morning till night." + +"I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" indignantly exclaimed Gipsy. +"I'm sure I was too sensible a baby to do anything of the kind. Anyway, +I have never cried since I can remember. And as to fear--were you ever +afraid?" she asked, suddenly, of Celeste. + +"Oh, yes--often." + +"Did you ever? Why, you look afraid now. Are you?" + +"Yes." + +"My! What of?" + +"Of _you_," said Celeste, shrinking back, shyly, from her impetuous +little questioner. + +"Oh, my stars and garters! Afraid of _me_, and after I've been so quiet +and good with her all the evening!" ejaculated Gipsy; while Archie, who +was blessed with a lively sense of the ridiculous, leaned back and +laughed heartily. + +"Well, after that I'm never going to believe there's anything but +ingratitude in _this_ world," said Gipsy, with an emphasis on the +"_this_" which seemed to denote she _had_ met with gratitude in +another. + +But tears filled the gentle eyes of Celeste, as she looked up, and said: + +"Oh, I hope you're not angry with me. I didn't mean to offend you, I'm +sure. I'm _so_ sorry." + +"Oh, it's no matter. Nobody minds what they say to me. I'm used to it. +But it's so funny you should be afraid. Why, I never was afraid in my +life." + +"That's true enough, anyway," said Archie, with an assenting nod. + +"There's Guardy now. Oh! won't he be awful when I get home--but laws! +who cares! I'll pay him off for it, if he makes a fuss. I sha'n't be in +his debt long, that's one comfort." + +"Do you remember how dolefully Jupiter looked as he came in for you, all +dripping wet; and when you told him you wouldn't go, he----" and +overcome by the ludicrous recollection, Master Archie again fell back in +a paroxysm of laughter. + +"What a fellow you are to laugh, Archie!" remarked Gipsy. "You astonish +me, I declare. Do you laugh much, Celeste?" + +"No, not much." + +"That's right--I don't laugh much either--I'm too dignified, you know; +but somehow I make other people laugh. There's Archie now, for +everlasting laughing; but Minnette--do you know I never saw her laugh +yet--that is, really laugh. She smiles sometimes; not a pleasant smile +either, but a scornful smile like. I say, Minnette," she added, raising +her voice, "what is the reason you never laugh?" + +"None of your business," rudely replied Minnette. + +"The Lord never intended her face for a smiling one," said Miss Hagar, +breaking in, suddenly. "And you, you poor little wild eaglet, who, a +moment ago, boasted you had never wept, you shall yet shed tears of +blood. The bird has its eyes put out with red-hot iron before it can be +made to sing sweetly; and so you, too, poor bird, must be blinded, even +though you should flutter and beat yourself to death, trying to break +through the bars of your cage." + +"Humph! I'd like to see them trying to put my eyes out," said Gipsy. "I +guess I'd make them sing, and on the wrong side of their mouths, too--at +least, I think I should!" + +"Oh, Miss Hagar, tell us our fortunes--you haven't done so this long +time," exclaimed Archie, jumping up. "Here is Gipsy wants to know hers, +and Celeste's, too; and as for me, I know the future must have something +splendid in store for so clever a fellow, and I'm anxious to know it +beforehand." + +"Don't be too anxious," said Miss Hagar, fixing her gloomy eyes +prophetically on his eager, happy face; "troubles are soon enough when +they come, without wishing to forestall them." + +"Why, Miss Hagar, you don't mean to say I'm to have troubles?" cried +Archie, laughing. "If they do come, I'll laugh in their face, and cry, +'Never surrender.' I don't believe, though, my troubles will be very +heavy." + +"Yes, the heaviest troubles that man can ever know shall be thine," said +the oracle, in her deep, gloomy voice. "The day will come when despair, +instead of laughter, will fill your beaming eyes; when the smile shall +have left your lip, and the hue of health will give place to the dusky +glow of the grave. Yes, the day will come when the wrong you may not +quell shall cling to you like a garment of flame, crushing and +overwhelming you and all you love, in its fiery, burning shame. The day +will come when one for whom you would give your life shall desert you +for your deadliest enemy, and leave you to despair and woe. Such is the +fate I have read in the stars for you." + +"La! Archie, what a nice time you're going to have," said the +incorrigible Gipsy, breaking the impressive silence that followed the +sibyl's words--"when all that comes to pass! It will be as good as a +play to you." + +"Miss Hagar must have sat up all last night getting that pretty speech +by heart," said Minnette, fixing her mocking black eyes on the face of +the spinster. "How well she repeated it! She'd make her fortune on the +stage as a tragedy queen." + +"Scoffer!" said the sibyl, turning her prophetic eyes on the deriding +face of the speaker, while her face darkened, and her stern mouth grew +sterner still. "One day that iron heart of thine shall melt; that heart, +which, as yet, is sealed with granite, shall feel every fiber drawn out +by the roots, to be cast at your feet quivering and bleeding, unvalued +and uncared for. Come hither, and let me read your future in your eyes." + +"No, no!" said Minnette, shaking back, scornfully, her glossy black +hair. "Prate your old prophecies to the fools who believe you. I'll not +be among the number." + +"Unbeliever, I heed it not!" said Miss Hagar as she rose slowly to her +feet; and the light of inspiration gathered in her eyes of gray, as, +swaying to and fro, she chanted, in a wild, dirge-like tone: + + "Beware! beware! for the time will come-- + A blighted heart, a ruined home. + In the dim future I foresee + A fate far worse than death for thee." + +Her eyes were still riveted on the deriding face and bold, bright eyes, +that, in spite of all their boldness, quailed before her steady gaze. + +"Good-gracious, Miss Hagar, if you haven't nearly frightened this little +atomy into fits!" said Gipsy. "I declare, of all the little cowards ever +was, she's the greatest! Now, if I thought it wouldn't scare the life +out of her, I'd have my fortune told. If everybody else is going to have +such pretty things happen to them, I don't see why I shouldn't, too." + +"Come here, then, and let me read thy fate," said Miss Hagar. "The +spirit is upon me to-night, and it may never come more." + +"All right. Archie, stop grinning and 'tend this little scary thing. +Now, go ahead, Miss Hagar." + +The seeress looked down solemnly into the dark, piquant little face +upturned so gravely to her own; into the wicked brown eyes, twinkling +and glittering with such insufferable mischief and mirth; and, bending +her tall body down, she again chanted, in her dreary tone: + + "Thou wast doomed from thy birth, oh, ill-fated child; + Like thy birthnight, thy life shall be stormy and wild; + There is blood on thine hand, there is death in thine eye, + And the one who best loves thee, _by thee shall he die_!" + +"Whew! if that ain't pleasant! I always knew I'd be the death of +somebody!" exclaimed Gipsy. "Wonder who it is going to be? Shouldn't be +s'prised if 'twas Jupiter. I've been threatening to send him to Jericho +ever since I can remember. La! if it comes true, won't Minette, and +Archie and I be in a 'state of mind' one of these days! I say, Celeste, +come over here, and let's have a little more of the horrible. I begin to +like it." + +"Yes, go, Celeste, go," said Archie, lifting her off her seat. + +But Celeste, with a stifled cry of terror, covered her face with her +hands, and shrank back. + +"Coward!" exclaimed Minnette, with a scornful flash of her black eyes. + +"Little goose!" said Gipsy, rather contemptuously; "what are you afraid +of? Go! it won't hurt you." + +"Oh, no, no!--no, no!--no, no!" cried the child, crouching farther back +in terror. "It's too dreadful. I can't listen to such awful things." + +"Let her stay," said Miss Hagar, seating herself moodily. "Time enough +for her--poor, trembling dove!--to know the future when its storm-clouds +gather darkly over her head. Let her alone. One day you may all think of +my words to-night." + +"There! there! don't make a fool of yourself any longer, Hagar," +impatiently broke in the doctor. "Leave the little simpletons in peace, +and don't bother their brains with such stuff." + +"Stuff!" repeated Miss Hagar, her eyes kindling with indignation. "Take +care; lest I tell _you_ a fate more awful still. I speak as I am +inspired; and no mortal man shall hinder me." + +"Well, croak away," said her brother, angrily, "but never again in my +presence. I never knew such an old fool!" he muttered to himself in a +lower tone. + +He started back almost in terror, as he ceased; for standing by his +side, with her eyes fairly blazing upon him with a wild, intense gaze, +was the elfish Gipsy. She looked so like some golden sprite--so small +and dark, with such an insufferable light in her burning eyes--that he +actually shrank in superstitious terror from her. + +Without a word, she glided away, and joined Archie in the corner, who +was doing his best to cheer and amuse the timid Celeste. + +During the rest of the evening, Gipsy was unusually silent and still; +and her little face would at times wear a puzzled, thoughtful look, all +unused to it. + +"What in the world's got into you, Gipsy?" asked Archie, at length, in +surprise. "What are you looking so solemn about?" + +"Archie," she said, looking up solemnly in his face, "am I _possessed_?" + +"Possessed! Why, yes, I should say you were--possessed by the very +spirit of mischief!" + +"Oh, Archie, it's not that. Don't you know it tells in the Bible about +people being possessed with demons? Now, Archie, do you think I am?" + +"What a question! No; of course not, you little goose. Why?" + +"Because when _he_," pointing to the doctor, "said what he did, I just +felt as if something within me was forcing me to catch him by the throat +and kill him. And, Archie, I could hardly keep from doing it; and I do +believe I'm possessed." + +This answer seemed to Master Archie so comical that he went off into +another roar of laughter; and in the midst of it, he rolled off his seat +upon the floor--which event added to his paroxysm of delight. + +The doctor growled out certain anathemas at this ill-timed mirth, and +ordered Master Rivers off to bed. Then Miss Hagar folded up her work, +and taking Celeste with her, sought her own room, where a little +trundle-bed had been prepared for the child. And Minnette--who, much +against her will, was to share her room with Gipsy, for whom she had no +particular love--got up and lit the night-lamp, and, followed, by the +willful fay, betook herself to rest. + +The next morning dawned clear, sunshiny and bright. Immediately after +breakfast, Gipsy mounted Mignonne, and set out to encounter the storm +which she knew awaited her at Sunset Hall. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +GIPSY OUTWITS THE SQUIRE. + + + "Then on his cheek the flush of rage + O'ercame the ashen hue of age; + Fierce he broke forth; 'And dar'st thou, then, + To beard the lion in his den, + The Douglas in his hall?'"--MARMION. + +Gipsy rode along, singing gayly, and thinking, with an inward chuckle, +of the towering rage which "Guardy" must be in. As she entered the yard +she encountered Jupiter, who looked upon her with eyes full of fear and +warning. + +"Hallo, Jupe! I see you haven't 'shuffled off this mortal coil' yet, as +Louis says. I suppose you got a blowing up last night, for coming home +without me, eh?" + +"Miss Roarer, honey, for mussy sake, don't 'front mas'r to-day," +exclaimed Jupiter, with upraised hands and eyes; "dar's no tellin' what +he might do, chile. I 'vises you to go to bed an' say you's sick, or +somefin, caze he'd jes' as lief kill you as not, he's so t'arin' mad." + +"Nonsense, you old simpleton! Do you think I'd tell such a lie? Let him +rage; I'll rage too, and keep him in countenance." + +"Miss Roarer, if you does, dar'll be bloodshed, and den I'll be took up +for all--I knows dar will," said poor Jupiter, in a whimpering tone. +"Dis comes' o' livin' with ladies what ain't ladies, and old gen'lemen +what's got de old boy's temper in dem." + +"Why, you old good-for-nothing, do you mean to say I'm not a lady!" +exclaimed Gipsy, indignantly. + +"Jes' so, Miss Roarer, I don't care ef yer does whip me--dar! S'pose a +lady, a _real_ lady, would go for to shoot a poor nigger what ain't a +doing no harm to nobody, or go ridin' out all hours ob de night as _you_ +do. No! stands to reason, dey wouldn't, an' dat's de trufe now, ef I +_is_ a good-for-nothin'. Dar!" + +"You aggravating old Jupiter, you, I'll _dar_ you if you give me any +more of your impudence," said Gipsy, flourishing her whip over her head. + +"Miss Roarer," began Jupiter, adroitly ducking his head to avoid a blow. + +"Silence, sir! Don't 'Miss Roarer' me. Keep your advice till it's called +for, and take Mignonne off to the stables, an' rub him down well; and if +you leave one speck of dust on him, I'll leave you to guess what I'll do +to you." And so saying, Gipsy gathered up her riding-habit in her hand, +and ran up the broad step, singing at the top of her voice: + + "Oh! whistle and I'll come to you, my lad, + Oh! whistle and I'll come to you, my lad; + Though Guardy and aunty, an' a' should go mad, + Just whistle an' I'll come to you, my lad." + +"Gipsy, Gipsy, hush, child! Your guardian is dreadfully angry with you, +and will punish you very severely, I'm afraid," said Mrs. Gower, +suddenly appearing from the dining-room. "This reckless levity will make +matters worse if he hears you. Oh, Gipsy, how could you do such an +outrageous thing?" + +"La, aunty! I haven't done any 'outrageous thing' that I know of." + +"Oh, child! you know it was very wrong, _very_ wrong, of you, indeed, to +stay at Deep Dale all night against his express commands." + +"Now, aunty, I don't see anything very wrong at all about it. I only +wanted to have a little fun." + +"Fun! Oh! you provoking little goose! he'll punish you very severely, +I'm certain." + +"Well, let him, then. I don't care. I'll pay him off for it some +time--see if I don't. What do you s'pose he'll do to me, aunty? Have me +tried by court-martial, or hold a coroner's inquest on top of me, or +what?" + +"He is going to lock you up in that old lumber-room, up in the attic, +and keep you there on bread and water, he says." + +"Well, now, I'll leave it to everybody, if that isn't barbarous. It's +just the way the stony-hearted fathers in the story-books do to their +daughters, when they fall in love, and then their beaus come, filled +with love and rope-ladders, and off they go through the window. I say, +aunty, is there any chance for me to get through the window?" + +"No, indeed, they are fastened outside with wooden shutters and iron +bolts. There is no chance of escape, so you had best be very good and +penitent, and beg his pardon, and perhaps he may forgive you." + +"Beg his pardon! Ha! ha! ha! aunty, I like that, wouldn't Archie laugh +if he heard it. Just fancy _me_, Gipsy Gower, down on my knees before +him, whimpering and snuffling, and a tear in each eye, like a small +potato, and begging his serene highness to forgive me, and I'll never do +it again. Oh! goodness gracious, just fancy what a scene it would be!" + +"You provoking little minx! I am sure any other little girl would beg +her guardian's pardon, when she knew she did wrong." + +"But I _don't_ know that I've did wrong. On the contrary, I know I've +did _right_; and I'm going to do it over again, the first +chance--there!" + +"Oh, Gipsy!--child--you are perfectly incorrigible. I despair of ever +being able to do anything with you. As I told you before, I shouldn't be +surprised if your guardian turned you out of doors for your conduct." + +"And as I told _you_ before, aunty, I would not want better fun. Archie +Rivers is going to West Point soon, and I'll go with him, and 'do my +country some service' in the next war." + +"If he turned you out, Gipsy, it would break my heart," said Mrs. Gower, +plaintively. + +"Yes, and I suppose it would break mine too, but I luckily don't happen +to have a heart," said Gipsy, who never by any chance could, as she +called it, "do the sentimental." "However, aunty, let's live in the +sublime hope that you'll break the necks of two or three hundred +chickens and geese, before you break your own heart yet. And I protest, +here comes Guardy, stamping and fuming up the lawn. Clear out, aunty, +for I expect he'll hurl the whole of the Proverbs of Solomon at my head, +and one of 'em might chance to hit you. Go, aunty, I want to fight my +own battles; and if I don't come off with drums beating and colors +flying, it'll be a caution! Hooray!" + +And Gipsy waved her plumed hat above her head, and whirled round the +room in a defiant waltz. + +She was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of the squire, who, +thrusting both hands into his coat pockets, stood flaming with rage +before her; whereupon Gipsy, plunging her hands into the pockets of her +riding-habit, planted both feet firmly on the ground, and confronted him +with a dignified frown, and an awful expression of countenance +generally, and to his amazement, burst out with: + +"You unprincipled, abandoned, benighted, befuddled old gentleman! how +dare you have the impudence, the effrontery, the brazenness, the +impertinence, the--the--everything-else! to show your face to me after +your outrageous, your unheard-of, your monstrous, your--yes, I will say +it--diabolical conduct yesterday! Yes, sir! I repeat it, sir--I'm amazed +at your effrontery, after sending a poor, unfortunate, friendless, +degenerate son of Africa through the tremendous rain, the roaring +lightning, the flashing thunder, the silent winds, in search of me, to +stand there, looking no more ashamed of yourself than if you weren't a +fair blot on the foul face of creation! Answer me, old gentleman, and +forever afterward hold thy peace!" + +"You abominable little wretch! You incarnate little fiend, you! You +impish little imp, you! I'll thrash you within an inch of your life!" +roared the old man, purple with rage. + +"Look out, Guardy, you'll completely founder the English language, if +you don't take care," interrupted Gipsy. + +"You impudent little vixen! I'll make you repent yesterday's conduct," +thundered the squire, catching her by the shoulder and shaking her till +she was breathless. + +"Loo--loo--look here, old gentleman, do--do--don't you try that again!" +stuttered Gipsy, panting for breath, and wrenching herself, by a +powerful jerk, free from his grasp. + +"Why didn't you come home when I sent for you? Answer me that, or I +won't leave a sound bone in your body. Now, then!" + +"Well, Guardy, to tell the truth, it was because I didn't choose to. +Now, then!" + +"You--you--you incomparable little impudence, I'll fairly murder you!" +shouted the squire, raising his hand in his rage to strike her a blow, +which would assuredly have killed her; but Gipsy adroitly dodged, and +his hand fell with stunning force on the hall table. + +With something between a howl and a yell, he started after her as she +ran screaming with laughter; and seizing her in a corner, where she had +sunk down exhausted and powerless with her inward convulsions, he shook +her until he could shake her no longer. + +"I'll lock you up! I'll turn you out of doors! I'll thrash you while I +am able to stand over you! No, I won't thrash a woman in my own house, +but I'll lock you up and starve you to death. I'll be hanged if I +don't!" + +"You'll be hanged if you do, you mean." + +"Come along; we'll see what effect hunger and solitary confinement will +have on your high spirits, my lady," said the squire, seizing her by the +arm and dragging her along. + +"Guardy, if you do, my ghost'll haunt you every night, just as sure as +shooting," said Gipsy, solemnly. + +"What do I care about you or your ghost! Come along. 'The unrighteous +shall not live out half their days,' as Solomon says; therefore it's +according to Scripture, and no fault of mine if you don't live long." + +"Solomon was never locked up in a garret," said Gipsy, thrusting her +knuckles in her eyes and beginning to sob, "and he don't know anything +about it. It's real hateful of you to lock me up--now! But it's just +like you, you always were an ugly old wretch every way." Sob, sob, sob. + +"That's right, talk away! You can talk and scold as much as you like to +the four bare walls presently," said the squire, dragging her along. + +"You're a hateful old monster! I wish you were far enough--I just do! +and I don't care if I'm taken up for defamation of character--so, there! +Boo, hoo--a hoo--a hoo," sobbed, and wept, and scolded Gipsy, as the +squire, inwardly chuckling, led her to her place of captivity. + +They reached it at length; a large empty room without a single article +of furniture, even without a chair. It was quite dark, too, for the +windows were both nailed up, and the room was situated in the remotest +portion of the building, where, let poor Gipsy cry and scream as she +pleased, she could not be heard. + +On entering her prison, Gipsy ceased her sobs for a moment to glance +around, and her blank look of dismay at the aspect of her prison, threw +the squire into a fit of laughter. + +"So," he chuckled, "you're caught at last. Now, here you may stay till +night, and I hope by that time I'll have taken a little of the mischief +out of you." + +"And I'll have nothing to pass the time," wept Gipsy. "Mayn't I go down +stairs and get a book?" + +"Ha! ha! ha! No. I rather think you mayn't. Perhaps I may bring you up +one by and by," said the squire, never stopping to think how Gipsy was +to read in the dark. + +"Look up there on that shelf, I can't reach; there's one, I think," said +Gipsy, whose keen eye had caught sight of an old newspaper lying on the +spot indicated. + +The squire made a step forward to reach it, and like an arrow sped from +a bow, at the same instant, Gipsy darted across the room, out through +the open door. Ere the squire could turn round, he heard the door slam +to, and he was caught in his own trap, while a triumphant shout, a +delighted "hurrah!" reached his ear from without. + +The squire rushed frantically to the door, and shook, and pulled, and +swore, and threatened and shouted, to all of which Gipsy answered by +tantalizingly asking him whether he'd come out now, or wait till she +let him. Then, finding threats of no avail, he betook himself to +coaxing; and wheedled, and persuaded, and promised, and flattered, but +equally in vain, for Gipsy replied that she wouldn't if she could, +couldn't if she would, for that she had thrown the key as far as she +could pitch it, out of the window, among the shrubs in the +garden--where, as she wasn't in the habit of looking for needles in +hay-stacks, she thought it quite useless searching for it; and ended by +delivering him a lecture on the virtue of patience and the beauty of +Christian resignation. And after exhorting him to improve his temper, if +possible, during his confinement, as she was going over to spend the day +at Dr. Spider's and teach Miss Hagar's little girl to ride, she went off +and left him, stamping, and swearing, and foaming, in a manner quite +awful to listen to. + +True to her word, Gipsy privately sought the stables, saddled Mignonne +herself, and rode off, without being observed, to spend the day at Deep +Dale. The absence of the squire was noticed; but it was supposed he had +ridden off on business after locking up Gipsy, and therefore it created +no surprise. As he had positively forbidden any one in the house to go +near her prison, no one went; and it was only when Gipsy returned home +late at night that she learned, to her surprise and alarm, he had not +yet been liberated. The door was forced open by Jupiter, and the squire +was found lying on the floor, having raged himself into a state that +quite prevented him from "murdering" Gipsy as he had threatened. Two or +three days elapsed before "Richard" became "himself again;" and night +and day Gipsy hovered over his bedside--the quietest, the most attentive +little nurse that ever was seen, quite unalarmed by his throwing the +pillow, the gruel and pill-boxes at her head every time she appeared in +his sight. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE TIGRESS AND THE DOVE. + + + "Oh, wanton malice--deathful sport-- + Could ye not spare my all? + But mark my words, on thy cold heart + A fiery doom shall fall." + +In the golden glow of the morning, Minnette Wiseman stood at the door, +gazing out--not watching the radiant beauties of nature--not listening +to the sweet singing of the birds--not watching the waves flashing and +glittering in the sunlight--but nursing her own dark, fathomless +thoughts. + +From the first moment of the coming of Celeste she had hated her, with a +deep, intense hatred, that was destined to be the one ruling passion of +her life. She was jealous of her beauty, angry to see her so petted and +caressed by every one, but too proud to betray it. + +Pride and jealousy were her predominant passions; you could see them in +the haughty poise of her superb little head, in the dusky fire +smoldering in her glittering black eyes, in the scornful, curling upper +lip, in the erect carriage and proud step. In spite of her beauty no one +seemed to like Minnette, and she liked no one. + +Among her schoolmates her superior talents won their admiration, but her +eagle ambition to surpass them all soon turned admiration into dislike. +But Minnette went haughtily on her way, living in the unknown world of +her dark, sullen thoughts, despising both them and the love she might +have won. + +A week had passed since the coming of Celeste. Miss Hagar, feeling she +was not competent to undertake the instruction of such a shy, sensitive +little creature, wished to send her to school. The school to which +Minnette and Gipsy went (sometimes) was two miles distant, and taught by +the Sisters of Charity. Miss Hagar would have sent her there, but there +was no one she could go with. She mentioned this difficulty to her +brother. + +"Can't she go with Minnette?" said the latter, impatiently. + +"No, she sha'n't," said the amiable Minnette. "I'll have no such +whimpering cry-baby tagging after me. Let Madam Hagar go with her +darling herself if she likes." + +"Just what I expected from you," said Miss Hagar, looking gloomingly in +the sullen face before her. "If the Lord doesn't punish you one day for +your hatred and hard-heartedness, it'll be because some of his creatures +will do it for him. Take my word for it." + +"I don't care for you or your threats," said Minnette, angrily; "and I +_do_ hate your pet, old Miss Hagar, and I'll make everybody else hate +her if I can, too." + +"Minnette, hold your tongue," called her father, angry at being +interrupted in his reading. + +Minnette left the room, first casting a glance full of dislike and +contempt on Celeste, who sat in a remote corner, her hands over her +face, while the tears she struggled bravely to suppress fell in bright +drops through her taper fingers. Sob after sob swelled the bosom of the +sensitive child, on whose gentle heart the cruel words of Minnette had +fallen with crushing weight. Dr. Wiseman, after a few moments, too, left +the room, and Celeste, in her dark corner, wept unseen and uncared for. + +Suddenly a light footstep entering the room startled her. Her hands +were gently removed from her tear-stained face, while a spirited voice +exclaimed: + +"Hallo! Sissy! what's the matter? Has that kite-heart, Minnette, been +mocking you?" + +"No-o-o!" faltered Celeste, looking up through her tears into the bright +face of Archie Rivers. + +"What's the case, then? Something's wrong, I know. Tell me, like a good +little girl, and I'll see if I can't help you," said Archie, resolutely +retaining the hands with which she struggled to cover her face. + +"Miss Hagar wants to send me to school, and I've no one to go with. +Minnette doesn't like to be troubled with----" + +"Oh, I see it all! Minnette's been showing her angelic temper, and won't +let you go with her, eh?" + +"Ye-e-es," sobbed Celeste, trying bravely not to cry. + +"Well, never mind, birdie! I have to pass the Sisters' school every day +on my way to the academy, and I'll take care of you, if you'll go with +me. Will you?" he said, looking doubtfully into her little, shrinking +face. + +"I--I think so," said Celeste, rather hesitatingly. "I will be a +trouble, though, I'm afraid." + +"Not you!" exclaimed Archie, gayly. "I'll be your true knight and +champion now, and by and by you'll be my little wife. Won't you?" + +"No-o-o, I don't like to," said Celeste, timidly. + +Archie seemed to think this answer so remarkably funny that he gave way +to a perfect shout of laughter. Then, perceiving the sensitive little +creature on the verge of crying again, he stopped short by an effort, +and said, apologetically: + +"There! don't cry, sis: I wasn't laughing at you. I say, Miss Hagar," he +added, springing abruptly to his feet as that ancient lady entered, +"mayn't I bring Celeste to school? I'll 'tend to her as carefully as if +she was my daughter. See if I don't." + +A grim sort of smile relaxed the rigid muscles of Miss Hagar's iron face +as she glanced benignly at his merry, thoughtless face over the top of +her spectacles. + +"Yes, she may go with you, and the Lord will bless you for your good, +kind heart," she said, laying her hand fondly on his curly head. + +Archie, throwing up his cap in the exuberance of his glee, said: + +"Run and get ready, sis, and come along." + +"No; wait until to-morrow," said Miss Hagar. "She cannot go to-day." + +"All right; to-morrow, then, you've to make your _debut_ in the school +of St. Mark's. I say, Miss Hagar, what shall we call her? not your +name--Dedley's too dismal." + +"No; call her Pearl--she _is_ a pearl," said Miss Hagar, while her voice +became as gentle as _such_ a voice could. + +"Very well, Celeste. Pearl then be it. And so, Celeste, be ready bright +and early to-morrow morning, and we'll go by Sunset Hall, and call for +Gipsy and Louis. By the way, you haven't seen Louis yet, have you?" + +"No," said Celeste. + +"Oh, then, you must see him, decidedly, to-morrow. But mind, you mustn't +go and like him better than you do me, because he's better-looking. I +tell you what, little sis, he's a capital fellow, and _so_ clever; he's +ahead of every fellow in the academy, and beats _me_ all to smash, +because I'm not clever at anything except riding and shooting, and I'm +his equal in those branches. So now I'm off--good-bye!" + +And with a spring and a jump, Archie was out of the room and dashing +along the road at a tremendous rate. + +The next morning Celeste, with a beating heart, set out with Archie for +school. How pretty she looked in her white muslin dress, her white +sunbonnet covering her golden curls--a perfect little pearl! + +Archie, having paid her a shower of compliments, took her by the hand +and set out with her for Sunset Hall. At the gate Celeste halted, and no +persuasions could induce her to enter. + +"No, no; I'll wait here until you come back. Please let me," she said, +pleadingly. + +"Oh, well, then, I won't be long," said Archie, rushing frantically up +the lawn and bursting like a whirlwind into the hall door. + +In a few moments he reappeared, accompanied by Louis. + +"Look, old fellow! there she is at the gate. Isn't she a beauty?" said +Archie. + +Louis stopped and gazed, transfixed by the radiant vision before him. In +her floating, snowy robes, golden hair, her sweet, angel-like face, on +which the morning sunshine rested like a glory, she was indeed lovely, +bewildering, dazzling. + +"How beautiful! how radiant! how splendid! Archie, she is as pretty as +an angel!" burst forth Louis, impetuously. + +"Ha, ha ha! a decided case of love at first sight. Come along and I'll +introduce you," exclaimed Archie. + +Having presented the admiring Louis to Celeste, who, after the first shy +glance, never raised her eyes, he informed her that Gipsy had gone out +riding early in the morning, and they were forced to go without her. + +"Celeste, you must sit to me for your portrait," said Louis, +impulsively, as they walked along. + +"I don't know," said Celeste, shrinking closer to Archie, whom she had +learned to trust in like an old friend. + +"I'm sketching the 'Madonna in the Temple' for Sister Mary, and your +sweet, holy, calm face will do exactly for a model," said Louis. + +"That's a compliment, sis," said Archie, pinching her cheek; "you'd +better sit. Hallo! if that isn't Gipsy's bugle! And here she comes, as +usual, flying like the wind. If she doesn't break her neck some day, it +will be a wonder." + +As he spoke, the clear, sweet notes of a bugle resounded musically among +the hills above them; and the next moment the spirited little Arabian, +Mignonne, came dashing at a break-neck pace down the rocks, with Gipsy +on his back, a fowling-piece slung over her shoulder, and sitting her +horse as easily as though she were in an easy-chair. With a wild +"tally-ho!" she cleared a yawning chasm at a bound, and reined her horse +in so suddenly that he nearly fell back on his haunches. The next +instant she was beside them, laughing at Celeste, who clung, pale with +fear, to Archie. + +"What luck this morning, Diana?" exclaimed Archie. + +"Pretty well for two hours. Look!" said Gipsy, displaying a well-filled +game-bag. + +"Did you kill those birds?" inquired Celeste, lifting her eyes in fear, +not unmixed with horror, to the sparkling face of the young huntress. + +"To be sure! There! don't look so horror-struck. I declare if the little +coward doesn't look as if she thought me a demon," said Gipsy, laughing +at Celeste's sorrowful face. "Look! do you see that bird away up there, +like a speck in the sky? Well, now watch me bring it down;" and Gipsy, +fixing her eagle eye on the distant speck, took deliberate aim. + +"Oh, don't--don't!" cried Celeste, in an agony of terror; but ere the +words were well uttered, they were lost in the sharp crack of her little +rifle. + +Wounded and bleeding, the bird began rapidly to fall, and, with a wild +shriek, Celeste threw up her arms, and fell to the ground. + +"Good gracious! if I haven't scared the life out of Celeste!" exclaimed +Gipsy, in dismay, as Archie raised her, pale and trembling, in his arms. + +"What a timid little creature!" thought Louis, as he watched her, +clinging convulsively to Archie. + +"Oh, the bird! the poor bird!" said Celeste, bursting into tears. + +Gipsy laughed outright, and pointing to a tree near at hand, said: + +"There, Louis, the bird has lodged in that tree; go and get it for her." + +Louis darted off to search the tree, and Gipsy, stooping down, said, +rather impatiently: + +"Now, Celeste, don't be such a little goose! What harm is it to shoot a +bird?--everybody does it." + +"I don't think it's right; it's so cruel. Please don't do it any more," +said Celeste, pleadingly. + +"Can't promise, dear? _I_ must do something to keep me out of mischief. +But here comes Louis. Well, is it dead?" + +"No," said Louis, "but badly wounded. However, I'll take care of it; and +if it recovers, Celeste, you shall have it for a pet." + +"Oh, thank you! you're _so_ good," said Celeste, giving him such a +radiant look of gratitude that it quite overcame the gravity of Master +Rivers, who fell back, roaring with laughter. + +Celeste and Gipsy stood a little apart, conversing, and the boys sat +watching them. + +"I say, Louis, what do you think of her?" said Archie, pointing to +Celeste. + +"I think she is perfectly bewitching--the loveliest creature I ever +beheld," replied Louis, regarding her with the eye of an artist. "She +reminds me of a lily--a dove, so fair, and white, and gentle." + +"And Gipsy, what does _she_ remind you of?" + +"Oh! of a young Amazon, or a queen eaglet of the mountains, so wild and +untamed." + +"And Minnette, what is she like?" + +"Like a tigress, more than anything else I can think of just now," said +Louis, laughing; "beautiful, but rather dangerous when aroused." + +"Aroused! I don't think she could be aroused, she is made of marble." + +"Not she. As Miss Hagar says, the day will come when she will, she must +feel; every one does sometime in his life. What does Scott say: + + "'Hearts are not flint, and flints are rent; + Hearts are not steel, and steel is bent.'" + +"Well, if you take to poetry, you'll keep us here all day," said Archie, +rising. "Good-bye, Gipsy; come along Celeste!" + + * * * * * + +True to promise, Louis adopted the wounded bird; and under his skillful +hands it soon recovered and was presented to Celeste. She would have set +it free, but Louis said: "No; keep it for my sake, Celeste." And so +Celeste kept it; and no words can tell how she grew to love that bird. +It hung in a cage in her chamber, and her greatest pleasure was in +attending it. Minnette hated the very sight of it. That it belonged to +Celeste would have been enough to make her hate it; but added to that, +it had been given her by Louis Oranmore, the only living being Minnette +had ever tried to please; and jealousy added tenfold to her hatred. + +Seeing the bird hanging, one day, out in the sunshine, she opened the +cage-door, and, with the most fiendish and deliberate malice, twisted +its neck, and then, going to Celeste, pointed to it with malignant +triumph sparkling in her bold, black eyes. + +Poor Celeste! She took the dead and mangled body of her pretty favorite +in her lap, and sitting down, wept the bitterest tears she had ever shed +in her life. Let no one smile at her childish grief; who has been +without them? I remember distinctly the saddest tears that ever I shed +were over the remains of a beloved kitten, stoned to death. And through +all the troubles of after years, that first deep grief never was +forgotten. + +While she was still sobbing as if her heart would break, a pair of +strong arms were thrown around her, and the eager, handsome face of +Louis was bending over her. + +"Why, Celeste, what in the world are all those tears for?" he inquired, +pushing the disheveled golden hair off her wet cheek. + +"Oh, Louis, my bird! my poor bird!" she cried, hiding her face on his +shoulder, in a fresh burst of grief. + +"What! it's dead, is it?" said Louis, taking it up. "Did the cat get at +it?" + +"No, no; it wasn't the cat; it was--it was----" + +"_Who?_" said Louis, while his dark eyes flashed. "Did any one dare to +kill it? Did Minnette, that young tigress----" + +"Oh, Louis! don't, don't! You mustn't call her such dreadful names!" +said Celeste, placing her hand over his mouth. "I don't think she meant +it; don't be angry with her, please; it's so dreadful!" + +"You little angel!" he said, smoothing gently her fair hair; "no, for +your sake I'll not. Never mind, don't cry; I'll get you another, twice +as pretty as that!" + +"No, Louis; I don't want any more! I'd rather have the dear birds free! +And now, will you--will you bury poor birdie?" said Celeste, almost +choking in her effort to be "good and not cry." + +"Yes; here's a nice spot, under the rose-bush," said Louis; "and I'll +get a tombstone and write a nice epitaph. And you must console yourself +with the belief that it's happy in the bird's heaven, if there is such a +place," added Louis, as he placed poor "Birdie" in its last +resting-place. + +Half an hour after, Celeste sought the presence of Minnette. She found +her sitting by the window, her chin resting on her hand, as was her +habit, gazing out. She did not turn round as Celeste entered; but the +latter went up softly, and, placing her hand on hers, said gently: + +"Minnette, I'm afraid you're angry with me? I'm very sorry; please +forgive me?" + +Minnette shook her roughly off, exclaiming: + +"Don't bother me, you little whining thing! Go out of this!" + +"Yes; but only say you forgive me, first! Indeed, indeed, Minnette, I +didn't mean to offend you. I want to love you, if you'll let me!" + +"Love!" exclaimed Minnette, springing fiercely to her feet, her black +eyes gleaming like fire. "You artful little hypocrite! You consummate +little cheat? Don't talk to me of love! Didn't I see you in the garden, +with your arms around Louis Oranmore, in a way for which you ought to be +ashamed of yourself--complaining to him of my wickedness and cruelty in +killing the bird he gave you. And yet, after turning him against me, +you come here, and tell me you love me! Begone, you miserable little +beggar! I hate the very sight of you!" + +Her face was convulsed with passion. With a cry of terror, Celeste fled +from the room to weep alone in her own chamber, while Minnette sat by +the window, watching the stars come out in their splendor, one by one, +with the germs of that jealousy taking deep root in her soul, that would +grow and bear fruit for evermore! + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +GIPSY ASTONISHES THE NATIVES. + + + "What mighty mischief glads her now?"--FIRE WORSHIPERS. + +Among the villagers of St. Mark's, the mad-headed, wild-eyed, fearless +Gipsy Gower was a universal favorite. Not one among them but had +received from her warm heart and generous hand some service. The squire +furnished his "imp" plentifully with pocket-money, which was invariably +bestowed with careless generosity upon the poor of the parish; but given +in a way that precluded all thanks. Sometimes the door would be thrust +open with such violence as to wake the inmates, thinking a troop of +horse was about to favor them with a visit, and her purse flung into the +middle of the floor; and away she would ride like a flash. But on these +occasions they were never at a loss to know the donor. If, on her next +visit, they began to thank her for her gift, Gipsy indignantly denied +all knowledge of it, and positively refused to listen to them. + +Dr. Wiseman, who was a pretty extensive land-owner, had several tenants +in the remotest part of the village, whom he forced to pay an exorbitant +rent, giving them to understand that unless they paid it on the very day +it came due, out they must go! One evening, about dusk, Gipsy, who had +been riding out, was overtaken by a storm of wind and rain, and sought +shelter in one of the cottages. + +On entering she found the whole family in deep distress. The head of the +family sat gazing moodily at the fire: his wife, surrounded by her +children, was weeping; and they, following her example, had set up a +clamorous cry. + +"Why, what's up now? What's the matter, Mrs. Brown?" inquired Gipsy, in +surprise. + +"Oh, Miss Gipsy! is it you? Sit down. Alas, it's the last time we can +ever ask you!" said the woman, with a fresh burst of tears. + +"Why, are you going to turn me out the next time I come?" said Gipsy, +taking the proffered seat. + +"Heaven forbid we'd ever turn you out, Miss Gipsy, after all you've done +for us!" said the woman; "but after to-night we'll no longer have a roof +to shelter us." + +"You won't, eh? Do you intend to set fire to this old shanty, and burn +it down?" inquired Gipsy. + +"No, no; but Dr. Wiseman was here for his rent (this is pay-day, you +know), and we haven't a cent in the house to give him. Mr. Brown's been +sick mostly all summer, and all we could make it took to feed the +children. And now Dr. Wiseman says he'll turn us out, to starve or beg, +to-morrow," replied the woman through her tears. + +"The old sinner!" exclaimed Gipsy, through her hard-closed teeth. "Did +you ask him to give you time to pay?" + +"Yes, I went on my knees, and begged him to spare us for a few months, +and we would pay him every cent; but he wouldn't. He said he would give +us until to-morrow morning, and if we didn't have it then, out we must +go." + +For a moment Gipsy was silent, compressing her lips to keep down her +fiery wrath, while the woman wept more passionately than ever. + +"Have his other tenants paid him?" inquired Gipsy, at length. + +"Yes, all but us." + +"When did he start for home?" + +"Not five minutes ago?" + +"Which way did he take?" said Gipsy, springing to her feet, and +beginning to examine her pistols. + +"He went over the hills," said the man at the fire, speaking now for the +first time; "I heard them say he was afraid to be robbed if he went +round by the road, as he had all the money he got from the tenants with +him." + +"All right, then, Mrs. Brown, my dear woman. Keep up heart; and if some +good fairy gets you out of this scrape, don't say a word about it. Good +night." + +"You had better not venture alone in the storm," said Mrs. Brown, +anxiously; "one of the boys will go with you." + +"Thank you, there's no necessity. I feel safer on Mignonne's back than +with all the boys that ever afflicted the world for its sins for a +body-guard. So mind my words, 'hold on to the last,' as the shoemaker +said, and don't despair." + +The last words were lost in the storm of wind and rain, as she opened +the door. Springing on the back of Mignonne, she turned his head in the +direction of the hills, and sped over the ground as rapidly as her +fleet-footed Arabian could carry her. + +Through the night, and wind, and rain, over the dangerous hilly path +jogged Dr. Wiseman. He scarcely felt the storm, for a talisman in the +shape of a well-filled pocket-book lay pressed to his avaricious heart. +His mare, a raw-boned old brute, as ugly as her master, walked along +slowly, manifesting a sublime contempt for storm and wind that would +have done the heart of a philosopher good. What her thoughts were about +it, would be hard to say; but her master's ran on money, robbers, +highwaymen, and other such "knights of the road." + +"There are many desperate characters in the village who know I have a +large sum of money about me, and who would no more mind waylaying, +robbing, and perhaps murdering me, than I would of turning the Brown's +out to-morrow. Luckily, however, they'll think I've taken the village +road," said the doctor to himself, in a sort of soliloquy, "and so I'll +escape them. But this road is a dismal one, and seems just the place for +a rendezvous of robbers. Now, if a highwayman were to step up from +behind one of these rocks, and cry----" + +"Your money or your life!" cried a deep, sepulchral voice at his ear, +with such startling suddenness that, with an exclamation of horror and +fear, the doctor nearly fell from his seat. + +Recovering himself, he strove to see the robber, but in the deep +darkness and beating rain it was impossible. But though he couldn't see, +he could hear, and the sharp click of a pistol distinctly met his ear. + +"Your money or your life!" repeated the low, hoarse voice, in an +imperious tone. + +For reply, the doctor, rendered desperate by the fear of losing his +money, drew a pistol and fired. As it flashed, he saw for a moment a +horse standing before him, but the rider seemed to have lain flat down, +for no man was there. Ere he could draw his second pistol, his horse was +grasped by the bridle-rein, and the cold muzzle of a pistol was pressed +to his temple. + +"Your money or your life!" cried a fierce, excited voice that terror +alone prevented him from recognizing. "Deliver up your money, old man, +or this instant you shall die." + +"Oh, spare my life!" cried the wretched doctor, in an agony of terror, +for the cold ring of steel still pressed his temple like the deadly fang +of a serpent. "Spare my life, for God's sake, and you shall have all! +I'm a poor man, but you shall have it." + +"Quick, then," was the imperious rejoinder, as the doctor fumbled in his +pockets, and at last, with a deep groan of despair, surrendered the +plump pocket-book to the daring outlaw. + +"That is all I have; now let me go," cried the miserable doctor. + +"Yes; but first you must solemnly swear never to speak to man, woman, or +child of what has occurred to-night. Swear by your own miserable soul!" + +"I swear!" groaned the unhappy doctor. + +"And lest you should be tempted to commit perjury, and break your oath, +let me tell you that the very first attempt to do so will be followed by +instant _death_. Mind! I will watch you day and night, dog your steps +like a blood-hound, and if you dare to breathe it to living mortal, that +moment will be your last." + +"I'll never mention it! I'll never speak of it. Oh, let me go," implored +the agonized Galen. + +"Very well, then. I have the honor to wish you good-night. If you don't +ride straight home, I'll send a bullet through your head." + +And with this cheering assurance the robber put spurs to the horse, and +rode off in the direction opposite to that leading to Deep Dale. + +Little need was there to exhort the terror-stricken doctor to ride +straight home. Never before had the spavined old mare fled over the +ground with the velocity she did that night, and Doctor Wiseman did not +breathe freely until he was double-locked in his own room. + +The Browns paid their rent the next day, and would no longer remain +tenants of the doctor. If he suspected any one, the robber's threat +caused him prudently to remain silent; but his wretched look was an +unfailing subject of mirth for Gipsy Gower for a month after, and the +cunning twinkle of her eye said as plainly as words: + +"I know, but I won't tell." + +One day, Gipsy fell into deeper disgrace with the squire than had ever +occurred before. In fact, it was quite an outrageous thing, and the only +apology I can offer for her is, that she meant no harm. + +The Bishop of B., Senator Long, and a number of distinguished gentlemen +and ladies from the city had come to St. Mark's to spend a few days. +Squire Erliston, as a matter of course, immediately called to see his +friends, and a few days after gave a large dinner-party, to which they +were all invited. + +The important day for the dinner-party arrived. Lizzie was up in her +room, dressing. Mrs. Gower was superintending affairs in the +dining-room. The squire, in full dress, sat alone, awaiting his friends. +As he sat, sleep overpowered him, and unconsciously he sank into a +profound slumber. + +While he was snoring in peace, little dreaming of the fate awaiting +him, that little imp of mischief, Gipsy, entered. One glance sufficed, +and across her fertile brain there shot a demoniacal project of +mischief, while her whole form became instinct, and her wicked eyes +scintillated with fun. + +Quitting the room, she returned presently with a box of lampblack in one +hand, and the mustard-pot in the other. + +"Now, Guardy, you keep still a little while till I turn you into an +Indian chief, and here goes for your war-paint." + +So saying, the little wretch drew a streak of mustard across his nose, +following it by a similar one of lampblack. And so she continued until +his whole face was covered with alternate stripes of yellow and black, +scarcely able to repress a shout of laughter as she worked, at the +unspeakably ludicrous appearance he presented. + +Having exhausted her supply of paint, Gipsy stepped to the door to +survey her work, and unable longer to restrain a roar of laughter, fled +to her room, quivering with the anticipation of the fun to come. + +Scarcely had she quitted the room when the door was flung open, and, in +pompous tones, the servant announced: + +"De Right Reveren' Bishop of B., de Hon'ble Senator Long and Mrs. Long." + +And the whole party, half a dozen in number, entered the apartment. + +The noise awoke the squire; and a most musical snore was mercilessly +interrupted, and ended in a hysterical snort. Starting to his feet with +an expression of countenance that utterly repudiated the idea of his +having been asleep, he advanced with extended hand toward the bishop. +That high functionary drew back for a moment aghast, and glanced at his +companions in horror. Human nature could stand it no longer, and a +universal shout of laughter resounded through the room. + +"Eh? What? Lord bless me, what's the matter?" said the squire, turning +his face from one to another, inwardly wondering if they had all gone +mad. "What are you laughing at?" + +A fresh roar of laughter from the whole party answered this, as they all +pressed their hands to their sides, utterly unable to stop. Seeing this, +the squire at last began grinning with sympathy, thereby adding so much +to the ludicrousness of his appearance, that some threw themselves on +the floor, some on chairs and sofas, in perfect convulsions. + +"What the deuce is it?" repeated the squire, at last losing patience. +"Will you oblige me by telling me what the matter is?" + +"My dear sir," began the bishop, in tremulous tones. + +The squire turned his painted face eagerly toward the speaker. In vain +he attempted to proceed, it was not in human nature to withstand that +face, and the bishop fell back in a paroxysm that threatened never to +end. + +It was a scene for an artist. The row of convulsed faces around, pausing +for a moment breathlessly, but breaking forth louder than ever the +minute their eyes again fell upon him. And there sat the squire with his +black and yellow face, turning in dismay from one to another, his round +bullet-eyes ready to pop from their sockets. + +At this moment the door opened, and Lizzie, Louis, and Mrs. Gower, +followed by all the servants in the house, attracted by the noise, burst +into the room. The moment their eyes fell on the squire, who had started +to his feet to address them, their looks of surprise vanished and, as if +by one accord, shout after shout of laughter broke from all. In vain did +the squire stamp, and fume, and demand to know what was the matter; his +only answer was a fresh explosion of mirth. + +At last, in despair, Mrs. Gower managed to point to a mirror opposite. +The squire rushed frantically to the spot, and then paused, transfixed, +aghast with horror. Turning slowly round, he confronted his guests with +such a look of blank, utter dismay, that all the laughter previous was +nothing to the universal roar which followed that despairing glance. +Then bursting out with: "It's that fiend!--that demon incarnate!--that +little Jezebel has done this," he rushed from the room in search of her. + +Gipsy, attracted by the laughter, had ventured cautiously to descend the +stairs. The squire perceived her, as like a flash she turned to fly. +With one galvanic bound he sprang up the stairs, seized her by the +shoulder, shouting: + +"By Heaven! I'll pay you for this when they go!" + +Then opening an adjoining door, he thrust her in, turned the key, put it +in his pocket, and rushed out of the house into the yard, where, by the +friendly aid of soap and hot water, and some hard scrubbing, he managed +to make himself once more look like a Christian. + +Then, returning to his guests--who by this time had laughed themselves +into such a state that they could laugh no longer--he dispersed the +servants with sundry kicks and cuffs, and proceeded to explain, as well +as he was able, how it came about. Politeness forced the party to make +every effort to maintain their gravity, but more than once, while seated +in solemn conclave round the dinner-table, the recollection of the old +man's ludicrous appearance would prove too much for flesh and +blood--and, leaning back, they would laugh until the tears stood in +their eyes. Their example proving contagious, the whole party would join +in, to the great mortification of the squire--who inwardly vowed that +Gipsy should pay dearly for every additional laugh. + +But for the squire to reckon without Gipsy was rather a hazardous +experiment. Seldom did that young lady find herself in a position from +which her genius would not extricate her--as the squire found to his +cost in the present instance. + +Gipsy's first sensation at finding herself for the first time really a +prisoner was one of intense mortification, followed by indignation; and +her thoughts ran somewhat after the following fashion: + +"The mean old thing!--to lock me up here just because I applied a little +mustard outside instead of inside! Never mind; if I don't fix him for +it, it'll be a wonder. So you'll pay me for this, will you, Guardy? Ah! +but you ain't sure of me yet, you see. If I don't outwit you yet, my +name's not Gipsy Roarer Gower! Now, Gipsy, my dear, set your wits to +work, and get yourself out of this black hole of a prison." + +Going to the window, she looked out. The sight would have appalled any +one else; but it did not intimidate Gipsy. The room she was in was on +the third story, at a dizzy height from the ground. She looked around +for a rope to descend; but none did the room contain. What was she to +do? Gipsy raised herself on one toe to consider. + +Suddenly her eye fell on a new suit of broadcloth her guardian had +brought home only the day before. She did not hesitate an instant. + +To her great delight she found a pair of scissors in her pocket; and, +taking the coat and unmentionables from the wall where they hung, she +sat down and diligently fell to work cutting them into long strips. +Fifteen minutes passed, and nothing remained of Guardy's new clothes +but a long black knotted string--which, to her great delight, she found +would reach easily to the ground. + +Fastening it to the window-sill securely, she began to descend, and in +ten minutes she stood once more on _terra firma_. + +Going to the stables, she saddled Mignonne and led him to the front +gate, where she left him standing. Then, with unheard-of audacity, she +entered the hall, opened the dining-room door, and thrusting in her +wicked little head, she exclaimed exultingly: + +"I say, Guardy, you can 'pay' me any time at your leisure, and I'll give +you a receipt in full." + +Then, I am sorry to say, making a hideous grimace, she turned to fly; +but the squire jumped from his seat--overturning the bishop and Mrs. +Senator Long in his violent haste--and shouting, "Stop her! stop her!" +rushed after her from the room. + +But he was too late, and she leaped upon Mignonne's back and was off. +Waving her hat in the air in a defiant "hurra!" she dashed down the road +and disappeared. + +Amazement and rage were struggling in the breast of the squire. Doubting +whether it was all a delusion, he rushed up stairs to the room. The door +was still fast; and, burning with impatience, he opened it. And there he +found the window wide open, and his new suit converted into a rope, +which still dangled, as if in exultation from the window. And the +mystery was solved. + +What the squire said and did there, it is useless to say. The reader +knows his remarks were anything but edifying; and even the august +presence of the overturned bishop could not prevent him from hurling a +torrent of invectives against the unfortunate Gipsy. Never had Squire +Erliston been so angry in his life. Inwardly vowing that she should +repent what she had done, the squire "bided his time"--little dreaming +how bitterly he was destined to repent that vow. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE MOONLIGHT FLITTING. + + + "Oh, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd; + She was a vixen when she went to school, + And though she is but little, she is fierce." + +The moonlight was falling brightly on the lawn, and shimmering like +silver sheen on the leaves of the horse-chestnuts, as Gipsy rode home. +The company had just dispersed, and the squire was about to retire, when +the clatter of horse's hoofs on the graveled path made him start up and +hasten out to the porch. And there he beheld the audacious Gipsy riding +fearlessly toward him, shouting at the top of her lungs some wild +chorus, of which he only caught the words: + + "You must place in my coffin a bottle of red, + And say a good fellow is gone." + +"If I don't pay her off before I sleep to-night!" muttered the squire, +between his clenched teeth. "I'll put an end to her pranks, or know for +why." + +Gipsy leaped lightly from her horse, and resigning him to Jupiter, ran +up the steps, and encountered the purple face and blazing eyes of her +angry guardian. + +"Good-evening, Guardy!" was her salute. "Nice night!" + +"Stop!" said the squire, catching her by the arm as she was about to run +past--"stop! I've an account to settle with you, my lady!" + +"Oh, any time at your convenience, Squire Erliston; I'll not be hard on +you." + +"Silence, Miss Impertinence! You have the impudence of Satan to face me +after what you have done!" + +"Now, Guardy, don't be unreasonable, but look at the matter in its +proper light. All fashionable people paint." + +"Silence!" exclaimed the squire, in a voice hoarse with rage. "Silence! +before I brain you, you little villain! You have made me the +laughing-stock of the country for miles around. I can never dare to show +my face after what has occurred, without being jeered and mocked at. And +all through you--the creature of my bounty--the miserable little wretch +who would have been a common street-beggar if I had not clothed, and +fed, and educated you!--through you, you brazen-faced, good-for-nothing +little pauper, whom I would have kicked out long ago to the workhouse +where you belong, if I had not feared the opinion of the world. Begone +from my sight, before I am tempted to brain you!" + +His face was perfectly livid with the storm of passion into which he had +wrought himself. As he ceased, he raised his hand and brutally struck +her a blow that sent her reeling across the room. + +Then all the demon in her fiery nature was aroused. With the shriek of a +wounded panther, she leaped toward him, with clenched hands, blazing +eyes, hard-ground teeth, ghastly face, convulsed brow, and eyes that +fairly scintillated sparks of fire. She looked a perfect little fiend, +as she glared upon him, quivering in every nerve with frenzied passion. + +The old sinner drew back appalled, frightened into calmness by that +dark, fierce face. For a moment he expected she would spring at his +throat like a tigress and strangle him. But, with a long, wild cry, she +clasped her hands above her head, and fled swiftly up-stairs, +disappearing like some elfin sprite in the darkness beyond. + +"Good Lord!" muttered the squire, wiping the drops of terror off his +face. "What a perfect little devil! Did ever any one see such a look on +a human face before! It's my opinion she's allied to Old Nick, and will +carry me off some night in a brimstone of cloud and fire--I mean a fire +of cloud and brimstone. Good gracious! I'm palpitating like a hysterical +girl. I never got such a fright in my life. I vow it's a danger to go to +bed with that desperate little limb in the house. I shouldn't wonder if +she set the place on fire about our ears and burned us all in our beds, +or cut our throats, or something. She looked wild and crazy enough to do +it. Well, I reckon, I'll be more careful how I chastise her for the +future, that's certain." + +So saying, the squire took his night-lamp and went off to bed, taking +the precaution to double lock his door, lest the "little imp" should +take it into her head to carry him off bodily during the night. + +No such catastrophe occurred, however, and when the squire went down to +breakfast, he found everything going on as usual. Lizzie lay on a +lounge, immersed in the pages of a novel, and Louis sat by the window +busily sketching, as was his custom. + +"I say, Lizzie, have you seen anything of Gipsy this morning?" he +inquired, as he entered. + +"No, papa." + +"I'd rather think she rode off before any of us were up this morning," +said Louis, raising his head. "Mignonne is not in the stable." + +This was nothing unusual, so without waiting for her, the family sat +down to breakfast. + +But half an hour after, Totty came running in alarm to Mrs. Gower, to +say Miss Gipsy's bed had not been slept in all night. This fact was +self-evident; and the worthy housekeeper sought out the squire to learn +whether Gipsy had returned home the night before. + +"Yes, yes, to be sure she did. 'Night brings home all stragglers,' as +Solomon says. Why?" + +"Because she has not slept in her bed the livelong night." + +"No!" shouted the squire, springing from his seat, as if some one had +speared him. "Lord bless me! where can she have gone?" + +"Ah, Squire Erliston, you do not think anything has happened to the dear +child, do you?" said Mrs. Gower, clasping her hands. + +"Fiddle-de-dee, woman, of course not. She's gone back to Deep Dale, I'll +lay a wager. Oh, here comes young Rivers, now we'll know." + +"Archie, my dear," said Mrs. Gower, as that young gentleman entered the +room, "did Gipsy go back to Deep Dale last night?" + +"Go back! Why, of course she didn't." + +"Oh, Squire Erliston, you hear that. Oh, where can that crazy creature +have gone?" exclaimed Mrs. Gower, twisting her fingers in distress. + +"Why, what's wrong? Where is Gipsy?" asked Archie, in surprise. + +"Oh, I don't know. She came home late last night, and must have gone +away somewhere, for she never went to bed at all. Oh, I am sure she has +been killed, or drowned, or shot, or something! I always knew it would +happen," and Mrs. Gower fairly began to cry. + +"Knew what would happen?" said Archie, perplexed and alarmed. + +"Something or other. I always said it; and now my words have come true," +replied Mrs. Gower sobbing. + +"Mrs. Gower, ma'am, allow me to tell you, you're a fool!" broke out the +squire. "Most likely she didn't feel sleepy, and rode off before you +were out of your bed this morning, just like the young minx. Ring the +bell, and we'll see what time she started." + +Archie obeyed, and Totty made her appearance. + +"Tott," said the master, "be off with you, and send Jupiter here +immediately." + +Totty ducked her wooly head by way of reply, as she ran off, and +presently Jupiter made his appearance in evident trouble. + +"Jupe, you black rascal, what time did Gipsy ride off this morning?" +asked the squire. + +"Please, mas'r, it warn't dis mornin' she rid off," said Jupiter, +holding the door ajar, in order that he might retreat if his master grew +violent. + +"What do you mean, sir?" roared his master, in rising terror. + +"'Deed, mas'r, I couldn't stop the young wixen--de young lady, I +mean--she don't mind me, no how, she don't." + +"Nor anybody else, for that matter," groaned the squire, inwardly. + +"You see, mas'r, arter she come home, I tuk Minnon inter de stable, and +'gan rubbin' him down, 'caze he was all in a foam she done rid him so +hard. Well, 'bout half an hour arter, as I was goin' to bed, I hears a +noise in de yard, an' when I looks out, dar was Miss Gipsy takin' de +horse out again. 'Deed she was, mas'r, an' 'fore I could get out she war +gone--'twan't no fault of mine." + +"Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy!" shouted the squire, jumping to his legs and stamping +up and down the floor in an agony of remorse and sorrow. "And I've +driven you from home, old monster that I am! I'm a brute! an alligator! +a crocodile! a wretched old wretch! a miserable, forsaken old sinner! +and I'll knock down any man that dare say to the contrary! Oh, Gipsy, my +dear little plague! where are you now? My darling little wild eaglet! +friendless in the wide world!" Here catching sight of Jupiter still +standing in the doorway, he rushed upon him and shook him until the +unfortunate darkey's jaws chattered like a pair of castanets. "As for +you, you black rascal! I have a good mind to break every bone in your +worthless skin. Why didn't you wake me up, sir, when you saw her going, +eh? Answer me that!" + +"Mas'r--ma--ma--mas'r," stuttered poor Jupiter, half strangled, "'deed +de Lord knows I was 'fraid to 'sturb ye. Ma--ma--ma--mas'r----" + +"Silence, sir! Up with you and mount--let every man, woman, and child in +the place be off in search of her. And Mrs. Gower, ma'am, do you stop +snuffling there. 'No use crying for spilled milk,' as Solomon says. +We'll have her home and soundly thrashed before night, or my name's not +Magnus Theodoric Erliston. Ha! there! Louis! Archie! the rest of you, +mount and off! And Mrs. Gower, ma'am, do you run out and saddle my +horse, and bring him round while I draw on my boots." + +"Squire Erliston," sobbed the poor old lady, "you know very well I can't +saddle your horse. Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy!" she added, with a fresh burst of +tears. + +"Well, fly and tell some of the rest, then. Women are such worthless +creatures--good for nothing but crying. There they go, with Louis and +young Rivers at their head, to scour the country. 'In the days when we +went gipsying,' as Solomon says. I do believe that little minx will be +the death of me yet--I know she will! I'm losing flesh; I'm losing +temper; I'm losing cash! I'm losing rest, and losing patience every day. +She'll bring my gray hairs in sorrow to the grave, as Solomon says, only +I happen to wear a wig, Ah! there's my horse. Now for it! Gipsy Gower, +you little torment, you, _won't_ I tell you a piece of my mind when I +catch you!" + +But the squire was destined not to catch her; for, though they continued +the search for the lost one until night, no trace of her could be found. +All that could be learned of her was from an innkeeper in a neighboring +town, some twenty miles distant. He said a young girl answering the +description given of Gipsy had arrived there about daylight, and, after +taking a hasty breakfast, had left her horse--which was utterly +exhausted by the pace with which she had ridden him--and started in the +mail coach for the city. + +Mignonne was led home, and as it was too late to go farther that day the +tired horsemen returned, silent and dispirited, homeward. The next day +the search was renewed, and the driver of the mail-coach questioned +concerning the little fugitive. He could throw but little light on the +subject; she accompanied him as far as the city, where she paid her fare +and left him. And that was all he knew. + +Placards were posted up, and rewards offered; the police were put upon +her track; but all in vain. And at last all hope was given up, and the +lost child was resigned to her fate. + +One day, about three weeks after her flight, the postman brought a +letter for Mrs. Gower. One glance at the superscription, and with a cry +of joy she tore it open, for it was in the light, careless hand of +Gipsy. It ran as follows: + + "MY DEAR, DARLING AUNTY:--I suppose you have had great times up + at Sunset Hall since I made a moonlight flitting of it. I wish I + had been there to see the fun. I suppose Guardy stamped and + roared, and blew up Jupiter, and blessed _me_--after his old + style. Well, you know, aunty, I just couldn't help it. Guardy was + getting so unbearable there was no standing him, and so I'm going + to take Gipsy Gower under my own especial patronage, and make a + good girl of her. Don't be angry, now, aunty, because I'll take + precious good care of myself--see if I don't. Tell Guardy not to + make a fuss, for fear it might bring on the gout, and tell him + not to keep searching for me, for if he hunts till he's black in + the face he won't find me. Remember me to Aunt Liz, and Louis, + and Celeste, and--and _Archie_. Tell Archie not to fall in love + with anybody else; if he does he may look out for a squall from + your own little GIPSY." + +This characteristic letter, instead of comforting the family, plunged +them into still deeper trouble on her account. Mrs. Gower wept for her +darling unceasingly, and would not be comforted; Lizzie sighed and +yawned, and lay on her lounge from morning till night, looking drearier +than ever; and the servants went in silence and sadness about their +daily business, heaving a sigh and shedding a tear over every memento +that recalled poor Gipsy. Now that she was gone they found how dearly +they loved her, in spite of all the scrapes and troubles she had ever +cost them. + +A dull, heavy, stagnant silence hung over the mansion from morning till +night. There was no more banging of doors, and flying in and out, and up +and down stairs, and scolding, and shouting, and singing all in one +burst, now. The squire was blue-molding--fairly "running to seed," as he +mournfully expressed it--for want of his little torment. + +No one missed the merry little elf more than the lusty old squire, who +sighed like a furnace, and sat undisturbed in his own arm-chair from one +week's end to the other. Sometimes Louis would bring over Celeste, who +had nearly wept her gentle eyes out for the loss of her friend, to +comfort him, and the fair, loving little creature would nestle on a +stool at his feet and lay her golden head in his lap, and go to sleep. +And the squire would caress her fair, silken curls with his great, rough +hands, and pat her white, dimpling shoulders, and turn away with a half +groan; for she was not Gipsy! + +As for poor Archie, he took to wandering in the woods and shooting +unoffending birds and rabbits, because it was Gipsy's favorite sport, +and looked as doleful as though he had lost every friend in the world. + +"Fall in love with any one else," indeed! Master Archie scorned the +idea, and began to have sundry visions of joining the monks of La Trappe +as soon as he grew old enough. This and his other threats of going to +sea, of enlisting, of killing somebody, by way of relieving his spirits, +kept poor Celeste trembling with fear for him from morning till night. +And in her own gentle way she would put her arms round his neck and cry +on his shoulder, and beg of him not to say such naughty things, for that +Gipsy would come back yet--she _knew_ that she would. + +But Minnette, who didn't care a straw whether Gipsy ever came back or +not, would laugh her short, deriding laugh, and advise him to become a +Sister of Charity at once. And Celeste said _she_ would be one when she +grew up, and then she would be always near to comfort him. And +Minnette's taunts always sent poor Archie off to the woods in a more +heart-broken state of mind than ever before. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE "STAR OF THE VALLEY." + + + ----"Face and figure of a child, + Though too calm, you think, and tender, + For the childhood you would lend her."--BROWNING. + +The winter was now drawing on. The short, bleak November days had come, +with their chill winds and frosty mornings. Miss Hagar looked at the +slight, delicate form and pale little face of her _protegee_, and began +to talk of keeping her at home, instead of sending her to school during +the winter months. + +Celeste listened, and never dreamed of opposing her wishes, but stole +away by herself, and shed the first selfish tears that had ever fallen +from her eyes in her life. It was so pleasant in school, among so many +happy young faces, and with the holy, gentle-voiced Sisters of Charity, +and so unspeakably lonesome at home, with nothing to do but look out of +the window at gray hills and leafless trees, and listen to the dreary +sighing of the wind. Therefore Celeste grieved in silence, and strove to +keep back the tears when in Miss Hagar's presence, lest she should think +her an ungrateful, dissatisfied little girl. + +One morning, however, as Miss Hagar entered the deserted parlor, she +found Celeste sitting in the chimney-corner, her face hidden in her +hands, sobbing gently to herself. A little surprised at this, for the +child seemed always smiling and happy before her, Miss Hagar took her on +her knee, and asked what was the matter. + +"Nothing," replied Celeste, though her cheek glowed crimson red, as she +felt she was not speaking the truth. + +"People don't cry for nothing, child!" said the aged spinster, severely. +"_What's the matter?_" + +"Please, Miss Hagar, I'm so naughty, but--but--I don't want to leave +school." + +"Don't want to leave school? Why, child, you'd freeze to death going to +school in the winter." + +"But Minnette goes," pleaded Celeste. + +"Minnette's not like you, little lily. She's strong and hardy, and +doesn't mind the cold; it only brings living roses to her cheeks; but +_you_, little whiff of down that you are, you'd blow away with the first +winter breeze." + +Celeste had no reply to make to this. She only hung down her head, and +tried very hard to swallow a choking sensation in her throat. + +At this moment Archie burst in, in his usual boisterous manner, all +aglow with snow-balling Louis. Master Rivers seemed in very good +condition, notwithstanding the loss of Gipsy; though I rather think he +would have been induced to knock any one down who would tell him he had +forgotten her. + +"What! in trouble again, little sis? Who's been bothering you now? Just +give me a hint, and I'll invite them not to do it again." + +"Why, the little simpleton is crying because I won't let her freeze +herself to death going to school all winter!" said Miss Hagar. + +"Oh, that's it--is it? Dry up your tears, then, Birdie; there's 'balm in +Gilead' for you. Yesterday, that good-natured old savage, Squire +Erliston, hearing me tell Louis that Celeste could not go to school +owing to the distance, immediately insisted that we should all use his +family sleigh for the winter. Now, Miss Hagar, see how those radiant +smiles chase her tears away. We'll nestle you up in the buffalo robes, +and dash off to school with you every morning to the music of the +jingling sleigh-bells. Eh, puss? won't it be glorious?" + +"What's that?" said Minnette, entering suddenly. + +"Why, Squire Erliston has given his sleigh up to Pussy here to take her +to school, and perhaps we'll take you if you're not cross, though the +squire has no particular love for you." + +"Thank you for nothing," said Minnette, scornfully; "but I wouldn't go +if you did ask me. Before I'd be such a baby!" she added, glancing +contemptuously at Celeste. + +And Minnette was as good as her word, positively refusing even the +stormiest mornings to go in the sleigh. Archie exhausted all his +eloquence, and Celeste pleaded tearfully, offering to stay at home and +let her take her place; but Minnette answered all their entreaties by a +sullen "I won't." Even when Louis, the only living being to whom her +high, stubborn will would bend, pleaded with her to come, she only +turned away, and said, in a tone _very_ gentle for her: + +"No, Louis, don't ask me; I can't go. Why should I? I'm no trembling +little coward like Celeste. I _love_ the winter!--yes, twice as well as +the summer! The summer is too still, and warm, and serene for me! But +the winter, with its maddening winds and howling storms, and white, +frosty ground and piercing cold breeze, sends the blood bounding like +lightning through every vein in my body, until I fly along, scarcely +touching the ground beneath me! Louis, walking alone through the +drifted snow, I feel no cold; but in your warm sleigh beside _her_, my +heart would feel like ice!" + +"Strange, wild girl that you are! Why do you dislike Celeste so much?" + +"I don't know. I never liked any one in my life--at least not more than +_one_. Do _you_ like her?" she said, lifting her eyes, glancing with +dusky fire, to his face. + +"Like her!" he exclaimed, shaking back his short, black curls, while his +full, dark eye kindled--"like that lovely little creature! that gentle +little dove! that sweet little fairy! beautiful as an angel! radiant as +a poet's dream! bewitching as an Eastern houri! Like her! Oh, Minnette!" + +She paused for a moment, and fixed her gleaming eyes on the bright, +handsome face, sparkling with boyish enthusiasm; then, without a word, +turned away, and fled from his sight. + +And from that moment her hatred of Celeste redoubled tenfold in its +intensity. Every opportunity of wounding and insulting the sensitive +heart of the gentle child was seized; but every insult was borne with +patience--every taunt and sarcasm met with meek silence, that only +exasperated her merciless tormentor more and more. Sometimes Celeste +would feel rising in her bosom a feeling of dislike and indignation +toward her persecutor; and then, filled with remorse, she would kneel in +the chapel and meekly pray for a better spirit, and always rise +strengthened and hopeful, to encounter her arch-enemy, with her taunting +words and deriding black eyes. + +One last incident, displaying forcibly their different dispositions, and +I have done with the _children_, Minnette and Celeste, forever. + +The Sisters had purchased a beautiful new statue of the Madonna, and +placed it in the refectory until it could be properly fixed in the +chapel. The children were repeatedly forbidden to enter the refectory +while it was there, lest it should accidentally be broken. + +One day, the Sisters had given a _conge_, and their pupils were out +playing noisily in the large garden and grounds attached to the convent. +Minnette, who never liked to mingle in a crowd, selected three of the +boldest spirits present, and proposed they should play "Puss in the +corner" by themselves. + +"Oh! we can't here in this great big place," was the reply; "besides, +the other girls will be sure to join us." + +"Let us go into the class-room, then," said the adventurous Minnette. + +"Sister Mary Stanislaus is sweeping out the class-room, and she won't +let us," said one of the girls. + +"Well, then, there's the refectory," persisted Minnette. + +"Oh! we daren't go there! Mother Vincent would be dreadfully angry. You +know the new statue is there!" said the girls, aghast at the very idea. + +"Such cowards!" exclaimed Minnette, her lip curling and her eye +flashing. "I wish Gipsy Gower were here. _She_ would not be afraid." + +"_I_ ain't a coward! I'll go!" cried one, following the daring Minnette, +who had already started for the forbidden room. The others, yielding to +their bolder spirit, followed after, and soon were wildly romping in the +refectory. + +Suddenly, Minnette, in her haste, rushed against the shelf where the +statue stood. Down it came, with a loud crash, shivered into a thousand +fragments. + +The four girls stood pale, aghast with terror. Even Minnette's heart for +a moment ceased to beat, as she gazed on the broken pieces of the +exquisite statue. It was but for a moment; all her presence of mind +returned, as she breathlessly exclaimed: + +"Sister will be here in a moment and catch us. Let us run out and join +the other girls, and she'll never know who did it." + +In an instant they were rushing pell-mell from the room. Minnette was +the last, and as she went out her eye fell upon Celeste coming along the +passage. A project for gratifying her hatred immediately flashed across +her mind. Seizing Celeste by the arm she thrust her into the refectory, +closed the door, and fled, just as the Sister, startled by the noise, +came running to the spot. + +She opened the door! There stood Celeste, pale and trembling, gazing in +horror on the ruins at her feet. + +An involuntary shriek from Sister Stanislaus brought all the nuns and +pupils in alarm to the spot. Celeste had entered the forbidden +room--had, by some accident, broken the beautiful and costly statue; +that was a fact self-evident to all. She did not attempt to deny it--her +trembling lips could frame no words, while the _real_ culprits stood +boldly by, silent and unsuspected. + +Celeste was led away to appear before "Mother Vincent," and answer the +heavy charge brought against her. She well knew how it all happened, and +could very easily have cleared herself; but she had just been reading a +lecture on humility and self-denial, and heroically resolved to bear the +blame sooner than charge Minnette. "Minnette will hate me worse than +ever if I tell," she thought; "and I must try and get her to like me. +Besides, I deserve punishment, for I felt dreadfully bad and naughty, +when she made the girls laugh at me this morning." + +So Celeste met the charge only by silence, and sobs, and tears; and +Mother Vincent, leading her into the class-room, where all the girls +and teachers were assembled, administered a public reproof. + +"Had it been any of the other girls," she said, "she would not have felt +surprised; but Celeste was such a good girl generally, she was indeed +surprised and grieved. It was not for the loss of the statue she cared +most--though _that_ could scarcely be replaced--but so glaring an act of +disobedience as entering the refectory could not go unpunished. +Therefore, Sister Mary Joseph would lead Celeste off and leave her by +herself until school was dismissed, as a warning to be more obedient in +future." + +And Celeste, with her fair face flushed with shame--her bosom heaving +with sobs as though her gentle heart would break--was led away to the +now unforbidden refectory, and left alone in her deep sorrow. The real +culprits sat silent and uneasy, starting guiltily when a low, suppressed +sob would now and then reach their ear. But Minnette, with her black +eyes blazing with triumph, her cheeks crimson with excitement, sat bold +and undaunted, proud and rejoicing in her victory. + +That evening one of the girls, unable to endure the stings of +conscience, went to the Mother Superior and nobly confessed the whole. +The good lady listened amazed, but silent. Celeste was released, brought +before her, and confronted with Minnette. + +"Why did you tell this falsehood, Minnette?" said the justly indignant +lady, turning to her. + +"I told no falsehood, madam," she said, boldly, though her cheek glowed +like fire, and her falcon eye fell beneath the keen, steady gaze of the +other. + +"You _acted_ a falsehood, then, which is quite as bad," said Mother +Vincent; "and I am pained beyond measure to find so artful and wicked a +disposition in one so young. And you, my child," she added, drawing +Celeste toward her and caressing her golden head; "why did you suffer +this wrong in silence?" + +"Because I deserved it, Mother; I didn't like Minnette this morning," +she answered, dropping her pale face sadly. + +A glance that might have killed her, it was so dazzlingly, intensely +angry, shot from the lightning eyes of Minnette. + +After a few brief words, both were dismissed. The sleigh stopped to take +up Celeste, and Minnette walked proudly and sullenly home. + +When she reached the house she found Celeste standing in the doorway, +with Louis beside her, twining her golden curls over his fingers. All +the evil passions in Minnette's nature were aroused at the sight. +Springing upon her, fairly screaming with rage, she raised her clenched +hand and struck her a blow that felled her to the ground. Then darting +past, she flew like a flash up the polished oaken staircase, and locked +herself in her own room; but not until the wild cry of Louis at the +demoniac act reached her ear, turning her very blood to gall. + +He sprang forward, and raised Celeste up. She had struck on a sharp +icicle as she fell, and the golden hair clung to her face clotted with +the flowing blood. Pale and senseless, like a broken lily, she lay in +his arms, as, with a heart ready to burst with anguish, Louis bore her +into the house and laid her on a sofa. His cry brought Miss Hagar to the +spot. She stood in the doorway, and with her usual calmness surveyed the +scene. Celeste lay without life or motion on the sofa, and Louis bent +over her, chafing her cold hands, and calling her by every tender and +endearing name. + +"Some of Minnette's handiwork," she said, coming forward; "poor little +white dove, that vulture would tear out your very heart if she could. +But my words will come true, and some day she will find out she has a +heart herself, when it is torn quivering and bleeding in strong agony +from the roots." + +"Oh, Miss Hagar, do you think she is dead?" cried Louis, his brave, +strong heart swelling and throbbing in an agony of grief. + +"No; I hope not. Ring the bell," was her answer. + +Louis obeyed; and having dispatched the servant who answered it for the +doctor, she proceeded to wash the blood from the wound. Doctor Wiseman +came in with the utmost indifference; listened to the story, said it was +"just like Minnette;" thought it ten chances to one whether she would +ever recover; gave a few general directions as to how she was to be +treated, and went off to sip his coffee and read the newspaper. + +Louis' indignation knew no bounds. + +"Leave this detestable old house," he exclaimed impetuously, to Miss +Hagar; "take Celeste over to Sunset Hall, and live with us. Grandfather +is rough, but kind and generous; and you and poor little Celeste will be +warmly welcomed. _Do_ come, Miss Hagar." + +"No, Louis," said Miss Hagar, shaking her head. "I thank you for your +kind offer; but I cannot be dependent on anybody. No; I cannot go." + +"But, good heavens! Miss Hagar, will you stay and let that hawk-heart +Minnette kill this poor, gentle little soul, who is more like an angel +than a living child." + +"No," said Miss Hagar; "there is a cottage belonging to me about half a +mile from here, at a place called Little Valley. You know it, of course. +Well, I shall have it furnished; and as soon as Celeste recovers, if she +ever _does_ recover, poor child, I shall go there. Thank the Lord! I'm +able to support myself; and there she will be beyond the power of +Minnette." + +"Beyond the power of Minnette," thought Louis, as he walked homeward. +"Will she _ever_ be beyond the power of that mad girl? What can have +made her hate that angelic little creature so, I wonder?" + +Ah, Louis! Ten years from hence will _you_ need to ask that question? + +The indignation of all at Sunset Hall at hearing of Minnette's +outrageous conduct was extreme. The squire was sure that "bedeviled +tigress would never die in bed." Mrs. Gower's fat bosom swelled with +indignation, and even Lizzie managed to drawl out "it was positively too +bad." And immediately after hearing it Mrs. Gower ordered out the +sleigh, and loading it with delicacies for the little sufferer, set out +for Deep Dale, where she found her raving in the delirium of a brain +fever. + + +Days and weeks passed ere Celeste rose from her bed, pale and weak, and +frailer than ever. Minnette, with proud, cold scorn, met the reproachful +glances of those around her; and never betrayed, by word or act, the +slightest interest in the sufferer. Only once, when Celeste for the +first time entered the parlor, supported by Louis, did she start; and +the blood swept in a crimson tide to her face, dyeing her very temples +fiery red. She turned aside her head; but Celeste went over, and taking +her unwilling hand, said, gently: + +"Dear Minnette, how glad I am to see you once more. It seems such a long +time since we met. Why did you not come to see me when I was sick?" + +"You had more agreeable company," said Minnette, in a low, cold voice, +glaring her fierce eyes at Louis as she arose. "Excuse me," and she +passed haughtily from the room. + +Miss Hagar's Valley Cottage was now ready for her reception; and as soon +as Celeste could bear to be removed they quitted Deep Dale. Celeste shed +a few tears as she bade good-bye to the doctor and Minnette, but they +were speedily turned to smiles as Louis gayly lifted her in his arms and +placed her in the sleigh beside Archie. Then, seating himself on the +other side of her, he shouted a merry adieu to Minnette, who seemed +neither to see nor hear him as she leaned, cold and still, against the +door. Miss Hagar took her seat in front with the driver; and off the +whole party dashed. + +As the spring advanced the roses once more bloomed upon the pale cheeks +of Celeste; and the fair "Star of the Valley," as Master Louis had +poetically named her, was known far and wide. Celeste had never been so +happy before in her life. Every day brought Louis or Archie to the +cottage, with books, flowers, or pictures, or something to present their +"star" with. And as yet Celeste loved them both alike, just as she did +Miss Hagar, just as she did Mrs. Gower. Though weeks and months passed +away, Minnette never came near them. Sometimes Celeste went with the +boys to see her; but her reception was always so cold and chilling that, +fearing her visits displeased her, she at last desisted altogether. + +And Minnette, strange girl that she was, lived her own life in secret. +She sat in her own room, silent and alone, the livelong day; for after +that eventful morning on which the statue was broken, she would go to +school no more. With her chin leaning on her hand, she would sit for +hours with her glittering black eyes fixed on the fire, thinking and +thinking, while the doctor sat silently reading by himself, until +finally Master Archie, with a jaw-splitting yawn, declared that he +_would_ go and be a Sister of Charity if they'd take him; for of all the +old tombs ever he heard of, Deep Dale beat them hollow. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +OUR GIPSY. + + + "Leaping spirits bright as air, + Dancing heart untouched by care, + Sparkling eye and laughing brow, + And mirthful cheek of joyous glow." + +In the spring Louis and Archie were to go to New York and enter college. +The squire, who was dying by inches of the inaction at Sunset Hall, +resolved to accompany them; and Lizzie, rousing herself from her +indolence, also resolved to accompany them. Doctor Wiseman intended +sending Minnette to boarding-school, and Miss Hagar offered to send +Celeste, likewise, if she would go; but Celeste pleaded to remain and go +to the Sisters; and as it happened to be just what Miss Hagar wished, +she consented. + +The evening before that fixed for the departure of the boys was spent by +them at the Valley Cottage. Archie was in unusually boisterous spirits, +and laughed till he made the house ring. Louis, on the contrary, was +silent and grave, thinking sadly of leaving home and of parting with his +friends. + +Celeste, who always caught her tone from those around her, was one +moment all smiles at one gay sally of Archie's, and the next sighing +softly as her eye fell upon the grief-bowed young head of Louis. Miss +Hagar sat by the fire knitting, as stiff, and solemn, and grave as +usual. + +"It will be a year--twelve whole months--before we all meet again," said +Louis, with a sigh. + +"Oh, dear!" said Celeste, her eyes filling with tears; "it will be _so_ +lonesome. It seems to me the time will never pass." + +"Oh, it will pass--never fear," said Archie, in the confident tone of +one who knows he is asserting a fact; "and we'll come back young +collegians--decidedly fast young men--_Mirabile dictu_--that's +Latin--and I'll marry you, sis. Oh, I forgot Gipsy." + +Here Archie's face suddenly fell to a formidable length, and he heaved a +sigh that would have inflated a balloon. + +"Oh, if Gipsy were here it wouldn't be a bit lonesome--I mean, not so +much. Minnette's going away, too," said Celeste, sadly. + +"Well, you needn't care for her, I'm sure," said Archie, gruffly. "She's +as sharp as a bottle of cayenne pepper, and as sour as an unripe +crab-apple. For my part, I'm glad to be out of the way of her +dagger-tongue." + +"Oh, Archie, please don't," said Celeste, gently. "How do you know but +she likes you now, after all?" + +"Likes me? Oh, that's too good. Hold me, somebody, or I'll split!" +exclaimed Archie, going off into an inextinguishable fit of laughter at +the very idea. + +Louis rose and went to the door; Celeste followed him, leaving Archie to +recover from his laughter and expatiate to Miss Hagar on the pleasures +and prospects he hoped to enjoy in Gotham. + +It was a beautiful moonlight night. The bright May moon shed a shower of +silvery glory over the cottage, and bathed them in its refulgent light. + +"Oh, Louis, what is the matter?" said Celeste, laying her hand on his +arm. "Are you so sorry for leaving home?" + +"I don't care for that, Celeste; I am sorry to leave you." + +"But it's only for a year. I will be here when you come back." + +"Will you, Celeste?" + +"Why, yes, Louis, of course I will." + +"Oh, no, you won't, Celeste. There will be something here taller and +more womanly, who will talk and act like a young lady, and whom I will +call Miss Pearl; but the little, gentle Celeste will be here no longer." + +"Well, won't it be the same with you?" said Celeste, with an arch smile. +"Something will come back taller and more manly, who will talk and act +like a young gentleman, and whom I must call Mr. Oranmore, I suppose. +But the Louis who brings me pretty books, and calls me 'the Star of the +Valley,' I will never see again." + +"Oh, Celeste, you know better than that. Will you think of me sometimes +when I am gone?" + +"Oh, yes, always. What a strange question! Why, I never thought of +asking you to think of me, though you are going among so many strangers, +who will make you forget all your old friends." + +"You know I couldn't forget any of my old friends, Celeste, much less +you. I shall think of you, and Miss Hagar, and Mrs. Gower, and--yes, and +poor Gipsy every day. See, I have brought you a parting gift, Celeste, +for your celestial little neck." + +So saying, he drew out a little gold chain and cross, and threw it over +the graceful neck that bent to receive it. + +"Oh, thank you, dear Louis. I shall prize your gift so much. How kind +and thoughtful of you! I wish I had something to give you in return." + +"One of your curls will do." + +"Will it? Oh, then you shall have it." + +So saying, she drew out a tiny pair of scissors and severed a long, +shining ring of gold from her bright little head. + +"Hallo! what's this? Exchanging true lovers' tokens, by all that's +tender! Ha, ha, ha!" shouted Master Rivers, appearing suddenly, and +roaring with laughter. + +"Confound you!" muttered Louis, giving him a shake. "And now I must go +and bid Miss Hagar good-bye. Archie, go off and bring the gig round. +Celeste, stay here; I'll be with you again in a minute." + +So saying, Louis entered the cottage, shook hands with the hoary +spinster, who bade him be a good boy, and not bring back any city +habits. Then going to the door, where Celeste still stood looking on her +cross, and closing her eyes to force back the tears that were fast +gathering in them, he took her in his arms and said: + +"And now good-bye, little darling. Don't quite forget Louis." + +"Oh, Louis," was all she could say, as she clung to his neck and sobbed +on his shoulder. + +He compressed his lips and resolutely unclasped her clinging arms; then +pressing his lips to her fair brow, he leaped into the gig, seized the +reins, and, in his excitement, dashed off, quite forgetting Archie, who +had lingered to say good-bye to Celeste. + +Archie rushed after him, shouting "Stop thief! stop thief!" until Louis, +discovering his mistake, pulled up, and admitted that wronged and +justly-indignant young gentleman. + +"Now for Deep Dale, to bid good-bye to Minnette and Old Nick," said +Archie, irreverently, "and then hie for Sunset Hall." + +"Yes, poor Celeste," said Louis, with a sigh, evidently forgetting he +had a companion; whereupon Archie again went into convulsions of +laughter, kicking up his heels and snapping his fingers in an ectasy of +delight. Louis found his example so contagious, that--after trying for a +few moments to preserve his gravity--he, too, was forced to join in his +uproarious mirth. + +On their arrival at Deep Dale they found the doctor in his study. Louis +bade him a formal farewell; and having learned that Minnette was in the +parlor, he went down to seek her, accompanied by Archie. + +She sat in her usual attitude, gazing intently out of the window at the +cold moonlight. She looked up as they entered, and started violently as +she perceived who were her visitors. + +"Well, Minnette, we've come to bid you good-bye," said Archie, gayly, +throwing his arms round her neck and imprinting a cousinly salute on her +cheek. "Good-bye for twelve months, and then hie for home and a happy +meeting. Louis, I leave you to make your adieux to Minnette, while I +make mine to old Suse, down in the kitchen. Mind, Minnette, don't give +him one of your curls, as I saw another little girl do awhile ago, +unless he gives you a gold cross and chain in return for it--he gave her +one." And with a mischievous laugh, Archie clattered down stairs, taking +half the staircase at a bound. + +She drew herself back and up; and the hand she had half extended to meet +his was withdrawn, as, with a cold formal bow, she said: + +"Farewell! I wish you a safe journey and a happy return." + +"And nothing more? Oh, Minnette! Is it thus old friends, who have known +each other from childhood, are to part? Just think, we may never meet +again!" + +"_Do you care?_" she asked, in a softened voice. + +"Care! Of course I do. Won't you shake hands, Minnette! You're not half +as sorry to let me go as little Celeste was." + +"Oh, no; I don't lose so much. I have no books, nor flowers, nor visits, +nor gold crosses to lose by your absence," she said, sarcastically--her +face, that had softened for a moment, growing cold and hard at the +mention of her name. "Good-bye Louis, and--I wish you all success and +happiness." + +The hand she extended was cold as ice. He pressed it between his, and +gazed sadly into the clear, bright eyes that defiantly met his own. + +"Come, Louis, don't stay there all night!" called Archie, impatiently. +"Old Suse has been hugging and kissing me till I was half smothered, +down there in the kitchen; and it didn't take her half the time it does +you two. Come along." + +"Good-bye! good-bye!" said Louis, waving his hand to Minnette, who +followed him to the door; and the next moment they were dashing along at +break-neck speed toward Sunset Hall. + +The moonlight that night fell on Celeste, kneeling in her own little +room, praying for Louis and Archie, and sobbing in unrestrained grief +whenever her eye fell upon the bright gold cross--_his_ parting gift. +Appropriate gift from one who seemed destined to never lay aught but +_crosses_ upon her! + +It fell upon Minnette, sitting still by the window, with a face as cold +and white as the moonlight on which she gazed. She did not love Louis +Oranmore; but she admired him--liked him better than any one else she +knew, perhaps, because he was handsome. But she hated Celeste; and his +evident preference for her kindled up the flames of jealousy in her +passionate soul, until she could have killed her without remorse. + +The next morning the gay party set out for New York; and in due course +of time they reached that city, and put up at one of the best hotels. + +"Suppose we go to the opera to-night?" said Lizzie to the squire, as she +sat--all her languor gone--looking out of the window at the stream of +life flowing below. + +"Just as you like--it's all one to me," said the squire, with most +sublime indifference. + +"Then the opera be it," said Lizzie, and the opera, accordingly, it was. +And a few hours later found them comfortably seated, listening to the +music, and gazing on the gayly-attired people around them. + +"How delightful this is!" exclaimed Lizzie, her eyes sparkling with +pleasure. + +"Humph!--delightful! Set of fools! 'All is vanity,' as Solomon says. +Wonder who foots the bills for all this glittering and shaking toggery?" +grunted the squire. + +"I've heard them say that the young _danseuse_, 'La Petite Eaglet,' is +going to dance to-night," said Louis. "Everybody's raving about her." + +"Why? Is she so beautiful?" inquired Lizzie. + +"No, I believe not; it's because she dances so well," replied Louis. + +At this moment the curtain arose, a thunder of applause shook the house, +and La Petite Eaglet herself stood before them. A little straight, lithe +figure, arrayed in floating, gauzy robes of white silver tissue, and +crowned with white roses--a small, dark, keen, piquant face--bright, +roguish eyes, that went dancing like lightning around the house. +Suddenly her eye fell on our party from St. Mark's; a slight start and a +quick removal of her eyes followed. The applause grew deafening as the +people hailed their favorite. She bowed. The music struck merrily up, +and her tiny feet went glancing, like rain-drops, here and there. She +seemed floating in air, not touching the ground, as she whirled, and +flew, and skimmed like a bird in the sunshine. The squire was +dizzy--absolutely dizzy--looking at her. His head was going round, +spinning like a top, or like her feet, as he gazed. Lizzie and Louis +were entranced, but Archie, after the first glance, sat with dilating +eyes and parted lips--incredulous, amazed, bewildered--with a look of +half-puzzled, half-delighted recognition on his face. + +Still the little dancer whirled and pirouetted before them; and when she +ceased a shout of applause thundered through the building, shaking it to +its center. Flowers, wreaths, and bouquets fell in showers around her; +ladies waved their handkerchiefs and clapped their little hands in the +excitement of the moment. The opera-going world seemed to have gone mad. +And there stood the little Eaglet, bowing to the delighted audience, the +very impersonification of self-possession and grace. + +Suddenly, rising as if to speak, she removed the crown of roses from her +head. There was a profound, a dead silence, where lately all had been +uproar. Every eye was bent in wonder--every neck was strained to see +what she was about to do. + +Taking one step forward, she fixed her eyes on the box occupied by the +squire and his family. Every eye, as a matter of course, turned in that +direction likewise. Raising the wreath, she threw it toward them, and it +alighted in triumph on the brow of the squire. + +In a moment she was gone. Up sprang Archie, quite regardless of the +thousands of eyes upon him, and waving his cap in the air above his +head, he shouted, in wild exultation: + +"I knew it! I knew it! _It's our Gipsy!--it's Gipsy Gower!_" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +GIPSY'S RETURN TO SUNSET HALL. + + + "This maiden's sparkling eyes + Are pretty and all that, sir; + But then her little tongue + Is quite too full of chat, sir."--MOORE. + +The effect of Archie's announcement on our party may be imagined. Lizzie +uttered a stifled shriek and fell back in her seat; the squire's eyes +protruded until they seemed ready to burst from their sockets; Louis +gazed like one thunderstruck, and caught hold of Archie, who seemed +inclined to leap on the stage in search of his little lady-love. + +"Let me go into the green-room--let us go before she leaves," cried +Archie, struggling to free himself from the grasp of Louis. + +The crowd were now dispersing; and the squire and his party arose and +were borne along by the throng, headed by Archie, whose frantic +exertions--as he dug his elbows right and left, to make a passage, quite +regardless of feelings and ribs--soon brought them to the outer air; and +ten minutes later--the squire never could tell how--found them in the +green-room, among painted actresses and slip-shod, shabby-looking +actors. + +Archie's eyes danced over the assembled company, who looked rather +surprised, not to say indignant, at this sudden entrance, and rested at +last on a straight, slight, little figure, with its back toward them. +With one bound he cleared the intervening space betwixt them, and +without waiting to say "by your leave," clasped her in his arms, and +imprinted a kiss upon her cheek. + +"Dear me, Archie, is that you? Take care! you're mussing my new dress +dreadfully!" was the astoundingly cool salutation, in the well-known +tones of our little Gipsy. + +"Oh, Gipsy, how _could_ you do it? Oh, Gipsy, it was _such_ a shame," +exclaimed Archie, reproachfully. + +At this moment she espied Louis advancing toward her, and accosted him +with: + +"How d'ye do, Louis?--how's Celeste and Minnette, and Mignonne, and all +the rest? Pretty well, eh?" + +"Gipsy! Gipsy! what a way to talk after our long parting," said Louis, +almost provoked by her indifference. "You don't know how we all grieved +for you. Poor Mrs. Gower has become quite a skeleton crying for her +'monkey.'" + +"Oh, poor, dear aunty! that's too bad now. But here comes Guardy and +Lizzie. I don't think Guardy was breaking his heart about me anyway! He +looks in capital condition yet." + +At this moment the squire came over with Lizzie leaning on his arm. + +"Hallo! Guardy, how are you? How did you like the opera?" exclaimed +Gipsy, in the same tone she would have used had she parted from him an +hour before. + +"Oh, Gipsy! you little wretch you! I never thought it would come to +this," groaned the squire. + +"No, you thought I wasn't clever enough! Just see how easy it is to be +deceived! Didn't I dance beautifully, though, and ain't I credit to you +now? I'll leave it to Archie here. Aunt Lizzie, I'll speak to you as +soon as I get time. Here comes old Barnes, the manager, to know what's +the matter." + +"Oh, Gipsy, you'll come home with us, my love, you really must," +exclaimed Lizzie. + +"Couldn't, aunty, by no manner of means," replied Gipsy, shaking her +head. + +"But I'll be shot if you _don't_, though," shouted the squire, "so no +more about it. Do you think I'm going to let a ward of _mine_ go with a +gang of strolling players any longer?" + +"I'm no ward of yours, Squire Erliston; I'm my own mistress, thanks be +to goodness, free and independent, and so I mean to stay," exclaimed +Gipsy, with sparkling eyes. + +"But, oh, my dear! my _dear_ Gipsy, do come home with us to-night," +pleaded Lizzie, taking her hand. + +"You will, Gipsy, just for to-night," coaxed Louis. And: "Ah, Gipsy, +_won't_ you now?" pleaded Archie, looking up in her saucy little face, +with something very like tears shining in his usually merry blue eyes. + +"Well--maybe--just for to-night," said Gipsy, slowly yielding; "but +mind, I must go back to-morrow." + +"And may I be kicked to death by grasshoppers, if ever I _let_ you go +back," muttered the squire to himself. + +"Here comes the manager, Mr. Barnes," said Gipsy, raising her voice; +"these are my friends, and I am going home with them to-night." + +"You'll be back to-morrow in time for the rehearsal" inquired Mr. +Barnes, in no very pleased tone of voice. + +"Oh, yes, to be sure," said Gipsy, as she ran off to get her hat and +cloak. + +"_We'll see about that!_" said the squire, inwardly, with a knowing nod. + +Gipsy soon made her appearance. A cab was in waiting, and the whole +party were soon on their way to the hotel. + +"And now, tell us all your adventures since the night you eloped from +Sunset Hall," said Louis, as they drove along. + +"By and by. Tell me first all that has happened at St. Mark's since I +left--all about Celeste, and the rest of my friends." + +So Louis related all that had transpired since her departure--softening, +as much as he could, the outrageous conduct of Minnette. + +"Poor Celeste!" exclaimed Gipsy, with glowing cheeks and flashing eyes. +"Oh, don't I wish I'd only been there to take her part! _Wouldn't_ I +have given it to Minnette--the ugly old thing!--beg pardon, Archie, for +calling your cousin names." + +"Oh, you're welcome to call her what you please, for all I care," +replied Archie, in a nonchalant tone. "I'm not dying about her." + +"There's no love lost, I think," said Louis, laughing. + +By this time they had reached the hotel. Lizzie took Gipsy to her room +to brush her hair and arrange her dress, and then led her to the parlor, +where the trio were waiting them. + +"And now for your story!" exclaimed Archie, condescendingly pushing a +stool toward Gipsy with his foot. + +"Well, it's not much to tell," said Gipsy. "After leaving _you_, Guardy, +that night, in an excessively amiable frame of mind, I went up to my +room and sat down to deliberate whether I'd set fire to the house and +burn you all in your beds, or take a razor and cut _your_ windpipe, by +way of letting in a little hint to be more polite to me in future." + +"Good Lord! I just thought so!" ejaculated the horrified squire. + +"Finally, Guardy, I came to the conclusion that I would do neither. Both +were unpleasant jobs--at least they would have been unpleasant to you, +whatever they might have been to me, and would have taken too much time. +So I concluded to let you burden the earth a little longer, and quote +Solomon for the edification of the world generally, and in the meantime +to make myself as scarce as possible; for I'd no idea of staying to be +knocked about like an old dishcloth. So I got up, took my last supply of +pocket-money, stole down to the stables, mounted Mignonne, and dashed +off like the wind. Poor Mignonne! I rather think I astonished him that +night, and we were both pretty well blown by the time we reached +Brande's Tavern. + +"There I took breakfast, left Mignonne--much against my will--jumped +into the mail-coach, and started for the city. Arrived there, I was for +awhile rather at a loss in what direction to turn my talents. My +predominant idea, however, was to don pantaloons and go to sea. Being +determined to see the lions, while I staid, I went one night to the +play, saw a little girl dancing, and--Eureka! I had discovered what I +was born for at last! '_Couldn't_ I beat that?' says I to myself. And +so, when I went home, I just got up before the looking-glass, stood on +one toe, and stuck the other leg straight out, as she had done, cut a +few pigeon-wings, turned a somerset or two, and came to the conclusion +that if I didn't become a _danseuse_ forthwith, it would be the greatest +loss this world ever sustained--the fall of Jerusalem not excepted. To a +young lady of my genius it was no very difficult thing to accomplish. I +went to see Old Barnes, who politely declined my services. But I wasn't +going 'to give it up so, Mr. Brown,' and, like the widow in the +Scripture, I gave him no peace, night or day, until he accepted my +services. Well, after that all was plain sailing enough. Maybe I didn't +astonish the world by the rapidity with which my continuations went up +and down. It was while there I wrote that letter of consolation to Aunty +Gower, by way of setting your minds at ease. Then we went to Washington, +then to New York, and everywhere I 'won golden opinions from all sorts +of people,' as Shakespeare, or Solomon, or some of them old fellows +says. I always kept a bright lookout for you all, for I had a sort of +presentiment I'd stumble against you some day. So I wasn't much +surprised, but a good pleased, when I saw Guardy's dear old head +protruding, like a huge overboiled beet, from one of the boxes to-night. +And so--_Finis_!" + +"Gipsy," exclaimed Archie, "you're a regular specimen of Young America! +You deserve a leather medal, or a service of tin plate--you do, by +Jove!" + +"'Pon honor, now?" + +"Oh, Gipsy, my love, I'm very sorry to think you could have degraded +yourself in such a way!" said Lizzie, with a shockingly shocked +expression of countenance. + +"Degraded, Aunt Lizzie!" exclaimed Gipsy, indignantly. "I'd like to know +whether it's more degrading to earn one's living, free and merry, as a +respectable, 'sponsible, danceable dancer, as Totty would say, or to +stay depending on any one, to be called a beggar, and kicked about like +an old shoe, if you didn't do everything a snappish old crab of an old +gentleman took into his absurd old head. I never was made to obey any +one--and what's more, I won't neither. There, now!" + +"Take care, Gipsy; don't make any rash promises," said Archie. "You've +got to promise to 'love, honor, and obey' _me_, one of these days." + +"Never-r-r! Obey _you_, indeed! Don't you wish I may do it?" + +"Well, but, my love," said Lizzie, returning to the charge, "though it +is too late to repair what you have done, you must be a dancing-girl no +longer. You must return home with us to Sunset Hall." + +"Return to Sunset Hall! Likely I'll go there to be abused again! Not I, +indeed, Aunt Lizzie; much obliged to you, at the same time, for the +offer." + +"And I vow, Miss Flyaway, you _shall_ go with us--there!" + +"And I vow, Guardy, I _sha'n't_ go with you--there!" + +"I'll go to law, and _compel_ you to come. I'm your rightful guardian!" +said the squire, in rising wrath. + +"Rightful fiddlesticks! I'm no ward of yours; I'm Aunty Gower's niece; +and the law's got nothing to do with me," replied Gipsy, with an +audacious snap of her fingers; for neither Gipsy nor the boys knew how +she was found on the beach. + +"And is that all the thanks you give me for offering to plague myself +with you, you ungrateful little varmint?" + +"I'm _not_ ungrateful, Squire Erliston!" flashed Gipsy--a streak of +fiery red darting across her dark face. "I'm _not_ ungrateful; but I +_won't_ be a slave to come at your beck; I _won't_ be called a beggar--a +pauper; I _won't_ be told the workhouse is my rightful home; I _won't_ +be struck like a cur, and then kiss the hand that strikes me. No! I'm +not ungrateful; but, though I'm only a little girl, I _won't_ be +insulted and abused for nothing. I can earn my own living, free and +happy, without whining for any one's favor, thank Heaven!" + +Her little form seemed to tower upward with the consciousness of inward +power, her eyes filled, blazed, and dilated, and her dark cheek +crimsoned with proud defiance. + +The squire forgot his anger as he gazed in admiration on the +high-spirited little creature standing before him, as haughty as a +little empress. Stretching out his arms, he caught her, and seated her +on his knee--stroking her short, dancing curls, as he said, in the +playful tone one might use to a spoiled baby: + +"And can't my little monkey make allowance for an old man's words? You +know you were very naughty and mischievous that day, and I had cause to +be angry with you; and if I said harsh things, it was all for your good, +you know." + +"All for my good!--such stuff! I wish you'd put me down. I'm a young +lady, I'd have you to know; and I ain't going to be used like a baby, +dandled up and down without any regard for my dignity!" said Gipsy, with +so indignant an expression of countenance, that Archie--who, as I before +mentioned, was blessed with a keen sense of the ludicrous--fell back, +roaring with laughter. + +"Now, Gipsy, my love, do be reasonable and return home with us," said +Lizzie, impatiently. + +"I won't, then--there!" said Gipsy, rather sullenly. + +But the tears rushed into Lizzie's eyes--for she really was very fond of +the eccentric elf--and in a moment Gipsy was off the squire's knee, and +her arms round Lizzie's neck. + +"Why, aunty, did I make you cry? Oh, I'm so sorry! Please don't cry, +dear, _dear_ aunty." + +"Oh, Gipsy, it's so selfish of you not to return with us, when we are so +lonesome at home without you," said Lizzie, fairly sobbing. + +"Yes; and poor Mrs. Gower will break her heart when she hears about +it--I know she will," said Louis, in a lachrymose tone. + +"And I'll break mine--I know I will!" added Archie, rubbing his knuckles +into his eyes, and with some difficulty squeezing out a tear. + +"And I'll blow my stupid old brains out; and _after that_, I'll break my +heart, too," chimed in the squire, in a very melancholy tone of voice. + +"Well! la me! you'll have rather a smashing time of it if you all break +your hearts. What'll you do with the pieces, Guardy?--sell them for +marbles?" said Gipsy, laughing. + +"There! I knew you'd relent; I said it. Oh, Gipsy, my darling, I knew +you wouldn't desert your 'Guardy' in his old age. I knew you wouldn't +let him go down to his grave like a miserable, consumptive old +tabby-cat, with no wicked little 'imp' to keep him from stagnating. Oh, +Gipsy, my dear, may Heaven bless you!" + +"Bother! I haven't said I'd go. Don't jump at conclusions. Before I'd be +with you a week you'd be blowing me up sky-high." + +"But, Gipsy, you know I can't live without blowing somebody up. You +ought to make allowance for an old man's temper. It runs in our family +to blow up. I had an uncle, or something, that was 'blown up' at the +battle of Bunker Hill. Then I always feel after it as amiable as a cat +when eating her kittens. 'After a storm there cometh a calm,' as Solomon +says." + +"Well, maybe there's something in that," said Gipsy, thoughtfully. + +"And you know, my love," said Lizzie, "that, though a little girl may be +a dancer, it's a dreadful life for a young woman--which you will be in +two or three years. No one ever respects a dancing girl; no gentleman +ever would marry you." + +"Wouldn't they, though!" said Gipsy, so indignantly that Archie once +more fell back, convulsed. "If they wouldn't, somebody 'd lose the +smartest, cleverest, handsomest young lady on this terrestrial globe, +though I say it, as 'hadn't oughter.' Well, since you all are going to +commit suicide if I don't go with you, I suppose old Barnes must lose +the 'bright particular star' of his company, and I must return to St. +Mark's, to waste my sweetness on the desert air." + +This resolution was greeted with enthusiastic delight by all present; +and the night was far advanced before the squire could part with his +"little vixen," and allow her to go to rest. + +Old Barnes--as Gipsy called him--was highly indignant at the treatment +he had received, and, going to the hotel, began abusing Gipsy and the +squire, and everybody else generally; whereupon the squire, who never +was noted for his patience, took him by the collar, and, by a +well-applied kick, landed him in the kennel--a pleasant way of settling +disputes which he had learned while dealing with his negroes, but for +which an over-particular court made him pay pretty high damages. + +Three days after, Louis and Archie bade them farewell, and entered +college; and the squire, after a pleasure-trip of a few weeks, set out +for St. Mark's. + +In due course of time he arrived at that _refugium peccatorum_; and the +unbounded delight with which Gipsy was hailed can never be described by +pen of mine. + +Good Mrs. Gower could scarcely believe that her darling was really +before her; and it was only when listening to the uproar that everywhere +followed the footsteps of the said darling, that she could be convinced. + +As for Celeste, not knowing whether to laugh or cry with joy, she split +the difference, and did both. Even Miss Hagar's grim face relaxed as +Gipsy came flashing into their quiet cottage like a March whirlwind, +throwing everything into such "admired disorder," that it generally took +the quiet little housekeeper, Celeste, half a day to set things to +rights afterward. + +And now it began to be time to think of completing the education of the +two young girls. Minnette had left for school before the return of +Gipsy, and it became necessary to send them likewise. Loath as the +squire was to part with his pet, he felt he must do it, and urged Miss +Hagar to allow Celeste to accompany her. + +"Gipsy will defend her from the malice of Minnette, and the two girls +will be company for each other," said the old man to the spinster. +"Girls _must_ know how to chatter French, and bang on a piano, and make +worsted cats and dogs, and all _such_! So let little Snowdrop, here, go +with my monkey, and I'll foot the bill." + +Miss Hagar consented; and a month after found our little rustic +lasses--our fair "Star of the Valley" and our mountain fairy, moving in +the new world of boarding-school. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +ARCHIE. + + + "His youthful form was middle size, + For feat of strength or exercise + Shaped in proportion fair; + And dark-blue was his eagle eye, + And auburn of the darkest dye + His short and curling hair. + Light was his footstep in the dance, + And firm his stirrup in the lists, + And oh! he had that merry glance + That seldom lady's heart resists."--SCOTT. + +Five years passed. And the children, Gipsy and Celeste, we can never see +more; for those five years have changed them into young ladies of +seventeen. Strange to say, neither Louis nor Archie has met Minnette, +Gipsy, or Celeste, since the time they parted to go to college: and with +all the change that years have made in their appearance, it is doubtful +whether they would even recognize one another now, if they met. + +The way of it was this: Louis and Archie, after the life and excitement +of the city, began to think that Sunset Hall was an insufferably dull +place; and with the usual fickleness of youth, instead of going home to +spend their vacation, invariably went with some of their school-fellows. +This troubled the old squire very little; for without Gipsy, in the +quiet of Sunset Hall, he was falling into a state of stupid apathy, and +gave Master Louis _carte blanche_ to go where he pleased. Lizzie was too +indolent to trouble herself much about it, and as she generally went on +a visit to New York every winter, she contented herself with seeing her +son and heir then, and knowing he was well. As for Gipsy and Celeste, +their faithless boy-lovers seemed to have quite outgrown their early +affection for them. + +Then, when the time came for them to graduate, and make choice of a +profession, Squire Erliston found that young Mr. Oranmore would neither +be doctor, lawyer, nor clergyman; nor even accept a post in the army or +navy. + +"Why not," said the squire, during an interview he had with him; "what's +your objection?" + +"Why, my dear grandfather," replied Louis, "you should have too much +regard for your suffering fellow-mortals to make a doctor of me. As for +being a lawyer, I haven't rascality enough for that _yet_; and I've too +much respect for the church to take holy orders. Neither does the camp +nor forecastle agree with me. I have no particular love for forced +marches or wholesale slaughter; nor do I care over much for stale +biscuit, bilge-water, and the cat-o'-nine-tails; so I must e'en decline +all." + +"Then what in the name of Heaven _will_ you be?" exclaimed the squire. + +"An artist, sir; an artist. Heaven has destined me for a painter. I feel +something within me that tells me I will yet win fame and renown. Let me +go to Europe--to Germany and Italy, and study the works of the glorious +old masters, and I will yet win a name you will not blush to hear." + +"Glorious old fiddlesticks! Go, if you like, but I never expected to +find a grandson of mine such a fool! The heir of Mount Sunset and its +broad lands, the heir of Oranmore Hall, and old Mother Oranmore's yellow +guineas, can do as he pleases, of course. Go and waste your time daubing +canvas if you will, I'll be hanged if _I_ care!" + +Therefore, six months before the return of the girls from school, Louis, +accompanied by a friend, sailed for Europe without seeing them. + +"And you, sir," said the squire, turning to Archie; "are _you_ going to +be a fool and turn painter, too?" + +"No, sir," replied Master Archie; "I'm not going to be a fool, but I'm +going to be something worse--a knave; in other words, a lawyer. As for +painting, thank fortune, I've no more talent for it than I have for +turning milliner, beyond painting my face when acting charades." + +So Archie went to Washington, and began studying for the bar. + +Gipsy, who was a universal favorite in school, began, for the last few +years, to copy the example of the boys, and spend her vacations with her +friends. Minnette and Celeste always returned home; for Minnette, cold, +and reserved, and proud, was disliked and feared by all; and though +Celeste was beloved by everybody, duty and affection forbade her to +leave Miss Hagar for her own pleasure. + +Our madcap friend, Gipsy, had lost none of her wicked nor +mischief-loving propensities during those years. Such a pest and a +plague as she was in the school, driving teachers and pupils to their +wits' end with her mad pranks, and yet liked so well. There was usually +a downright quarrel, about the time of the holidays, to see who would +possess her; and Gipsy, after looking on and enjoying the fun, would, to +the surprise and chagrin of all, go with some one who least hoped for +the honor. + +Gipsy was spending the winter with a school-friend, Jennie Moore, at +Washington. The three girls, whose united fortunes are the subject of +this history, had graduated; Minnette, with the highest honors the +school could give; Celeste, with fewer laurels, but with far more love; +and Gipsy--alas, that I should have to say it!--most wofully behind +all. The restless elf _would_ not study--was _always_ at the foot of her +class, and only laughed at the grave lectures of the teachers; and +yawned horribly over the rules of syntax, and the trying names in her +botany. So poor Gipsy left little better than when she entered. + + * * * * * + +The folding-doors of Mr. Moore's spacious drawing-room were thrown open, +blazing with light and radiant with brilliantly-dressed ladies. Miss +Jennie had resolved that the first ball should surpass anything that had +taken place that winter. All the _elite_ of the city, wealth, beauty, +fashion, gallantry, and talent, were mingled in gay confusion. There +were soft rustling of silks, and waving of perfumed handkerchiefs, and +flirting of fans, and flirting of _belles_; and bright ladies cast +killing glances from their brilliant eyes; and gentlemen bowed and +smiled, and paid compliments, and talked all sorts of nonsense, and + + "All went merry as a marriage bell." + +Near the upper end of the room the belle, _par excellence_, seemed to +be; for in her train flowed all that were wittiest, and gayest, and +loveliest there. Whenever _she_ moved, a throng of admirers followed; +and where the laughter was loudest, the mirth highest, the crowd +greatest, there might you find the center of attraction, this belle of +whom I am speaking. + +And yet she was not beautiful; at least, not beautiful when compared +with many there who were neglected for her. She is floating now in a gay +waltz round the room with a distinguished foreigner, and "I will paint +her as I see her." + +A small, slight, straight, lithe figure, airy and bird-like in its +motions, skimming over the floor without seeming to touch it; never at +rest; but quick, sudden, abrupt, and startling in all its motions, yet +every motion instinct, glowing with life. A dark, bright, laughing +little face, that no one knows whether it is handsome or not, it is so +radiant, so bewitching, so sparkling, so full of overflowing mirth and +mischief. Short, crisp black curls, adorning the sauciest little head in +the world; wicked brown eyes, fairly _twinkling_ with wickedness; a rosy +little mouth, that seemed always laughing to display the little pearly +teeth. Such was the star of the evening. Reader, do you recognize her? + +As she seated herself after the dance, tired and a little fatigued, +Jennie Moore, a pretty, graceful girl, came up to her, saying, in a low +voice: + +"Oh, Gipsy, I have a stranger to introduce to you--a most +_distinguished_ one. One of the cleverest and most talented young +lawyers in Washington." + +"Distinguished! Now, I'm tired to death of 'distinguished' people; +they're all a set of bores--ugly as sin and pedantic as schoolmasters. +Don't stare--it's a fact!" + +"Oh, but Mr. Rivers is not; he is young, handsome, agreeable, witty, a +regular lady-killer, and worth nobody knows how much." + +"Mr.--worth what?" exclaimed Gipsy, springing to her feet so impulsively +that her friend started back. + +"Why, what's the matter?" said Jennie in surprise. + +"Nothing! nothing!" said Gipsy, hastily. "_Who_ did you say it was?" + +"Mr. Archibald Rivers, student-at-law." + +"Jennie, they say I've changed greatly of late. Do you think I look +anything like I did when you first saw me?" + +"Why, not much. You were a tawny little fright then; you're _almost_ +handsome now," said the candid Jennie. + +"Then he won't know me. Jennie, will you oblige by introducing Mr. +Rivers to me under an assumed name?" + +"Why----" + +"There! there! don't ask questions; I'll tell by and by. Go and do it." + +"Well, you have always some new crotchet in your crotchety little head," +said Jennie, as she started to obey. + +In a few moments she reappeared, leaning on the arm of the +"distinguished" Mr. Rivers. Our Archie has not changed as much as Gipsy +has done during these years, save that he has grown taller and more +manly-looking. He has still his frank, handsome, boyish face; his merry +blue eye and boisterous manner, a _little_ subdued. + +The indistinct tone in which Miss Moore introduced him prevented him +from catching the name, but he scarcely observed; and seeing in the +young lady, whose lips were now pursed up and whose eyes were cast +modestly on the floor, a shrinking, bashful girl, he charitably began to +draw her out. + +"There is quite an assembly here this evening," was his original remark, +by way of encouraging her. + +"Yes, sir," was the reply, in a tone slightly tremulous, which _he_ +ascribed to maiden bashfulness. + +"What a delightful young lady your friend, Miss Moore, is," continued +Archie. + +"Yes, sir." + +"There are a great many beautiful ladies in the room." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Confound her!" muttered Archie, "can she say nothing but '_Yes, sir_?' +But the most beautiful lady present is by my side," he continued, aloud, +to see how she would swallow so palpable a dose of flattery. + +"_Yes, sir!_" + +"Whew! if that's not cool! I wonder if the girl's an idiot!" thought +Master Archie. Then, aloud: "Do you know you're very beautiful?" + +"Yes. I know it." + +A stare of surprise followed this answer. Then he continued: + +"You are a most bewitching young lady! Never was so much charmed by +anybody in my life!" + +"Sorry I can't return the compliment." + +"Hallo!" thought Archie, rather taken aback. "She's not such a fool as I +took her to be. What do you think of that lady!" he added, pointing to a +handsome but dark-complexioned girl, whom report said would one day be +Mrs Rivers. + +"Oh! I don't think her pretty at all--she's such a _gipsy_." + +Archie gave a little start at the name. Poor Gipsy! he had quite +forgotten her of late. + +"Do you know," he said, "I once had a little friend called Gipsy? Your +words recalled her to my memory. You remind me of her, somehow, only you +are handsomer. She was dark and ugly." + +"Indeed! Did you like her?" + +"Ye-e-e-s--a little," said Archie, hesitatingly; "she was a half-crazy +little thing--black as a squaw, and I don't think I was very fond of +_her_, but she was _very_ fond of me." + +"Indeed, sir!" said the young lady, a momentary flash gleaming from her +dark eyes; "she must have been a bold girl, rather, to let you know +it." + +"She was bold--the boldest girl ever I knew, with nothing gentle and +womanly about her whatever." + +"What did you say her name was?" + +"Gipsy--Gipsy Gower. You seem interested in her." + +"I am, sir--I know her." + +"_You do?_" cried Archie, aghast. + +"Yes, sir; but I like her no more than you do. She was a rough, uncouth +savage, detested by every one who knew her. I had the misfortune to be +her room-mate in school, and she used to bore me dreadfully talking +about her gawky country friends, particularly some one whom she called +_Archie_." + +"Yes? What used she to say about him? She liked him, didn't she?" said +Archie, eagerly. + +"Why, _no_; I should say not. She used to say he was a regular +fool--always laughing. She said she never knew such a greeny in all her +life." + +Mr. Rivers suddenly wilted down, and hadn't a word to say. Just at that +moment a party of Gipsy's friends came along, and it was: + +"Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy! Oh, Miss Gower! we've been searching all over for +you. Everybody's dying of the blues, because you are absent. Do come +with us!" + +Archie leaped from his seat as though he had received a bayonet thrust. +Gipsy rose, saying, in a low, sarcastic voice, as she passed him: + +"Remember me to Gipsy when you see her. Tell her what I said about +Archie," and she was gone. + +During the remainder of the evening the "distinguished" Mr. Rivers +looked about as crestfallen as a young lawyer possessed of a large stock +of native impudence could well do. There he stood and watched Gipsy, who +had never been so magnetic, so bewitching, so entrancing in her life +before. Never by chance did she look at him; but there was scarcely +another masculine head in the room she had not turned. + +"Confound the little witch!" muttered Master Archie, "no wonder she +called me a fool! But who the deuce would ever think of finding little +Gipsy Gower in one of the belles of Washington? Had it been Celeste, +now, I should not have felt surprised. And who would ever think that +yonder dazzling, brilliant, magnetic girl was the little shy maiden who, +ten minutes ago, sat beside me with her demure '_yes, sir_!' Well, she +seems to be enjoying herself anyway. So, Miss Gipsy, I'll follow your +example and do the same." + +For the remainder of the evening Archie threw himself into the gay +throng with the evident determination of enjoying himself or dying in +the attempt. And more than one fair cheek flushed, and more than one +pair of bright eyes grew brighter, as their owner listened with downcast +lashes and smiling lips to the gallant words of the handsome young +lawyer. He was, if not _the_ handsomest, at least _one_ of the +handsomest, men in the room; and + + "Oh! he had that merry glance, + That seldom lady's heart resists." + +And eclipsed belles raised their graceful heads in triumph to find the +bewildering Gipsy had no power over him. But if they had known all, they +would have found that those "merry glances" were not for them, but to +pique the jealousy of the evening star. + +Ere the company dispersed he sought out Gipsy, who withdrawing herself +from the revelers, stood, silent and alone, by the window. + +"Gipsy!" he said, gently. + +"Mr. Rivers!" she said, drawing herself up. + +"Forgive me, Gipsy, for what I said." + +"I have nothing to forgive! I rather think we are quits!" replied Gipsy, +coolly. + +"Well, make up friends with me, and be a little like the Gipsy I used to +know." + +"What! like that black little squaw--that bold, ugly, half-crazy thing? +You astonish me, Mr. Rivers!" + +"Yes, even so, Gipsy; you know it's all true; and I'll be the same +'regular fool, always laughing.' Then shake hands and call me Archie, as +you used to." + +"Well, now, I don't know," said Gipsy--"I don't _think_ I ought to +forgive you." + +"Don't think about it, then. Nonsense, Gipsy--you know you're to be my +little wife!" + +She laughed and extended her hand, though her dark cheek grew crimson. + +"Well, there, I forgive you, Archie. Will that do? And now let us go +into the supper-room, for I'm starving. One of my early habits I have +not outgrown--and that is, a most alarming appetite." + +"Now I shall have her all to myself for the rest of the evening," +thought Archie, as he stood beside her, and watched triumphantly the +many savage and ferocious glances cast toward him by the gentlemen. + +But Archie found himself slightly mistaken; for Gipsy, five minutes +later, told him to be off--that he was an old bore, and not half as +agreeable as the most stupid of her beaus. Then laughing at his +mortified face, she danced and flirted unmercifully, leaving Mr. Rivers +to think she was the most capricious elf that ever tormented a young +lawyer. + +Every day for a week after he was a constant visitor at Mr. Moore's. And +every day for a week he went away as he came, without seeing Gipsy. She +was always out riding, or driving, or "not at home," though he could see +her plainly laughing at him at the window. The willful fairy seemed to +take a malicious delight in teasing the life out of poor Archie. Evening +after evening she accepted the escort of a handsome young English +baronet, Sir George Stuart, the most devoted of all her lovers--leaving +Archie to bear it as he pleased. And between jealousy, and rage, and +mortification, and wounded pride, Mr. Rivers had a hard time of it. It +_was_ too bad to see his own little Gipsy--his girlish lady-love--taken +from him this way without being able to say a word against it. + +So Archie fell a prey to "green and yellow melancholy," and never saw +the stately young nobleman without feeling a demoniacal desire to blow +his brains out; and nothing prevented him from doing it but the becoming +respect he had for the laws of his country. + +One morning, however, for a wonder, he had the good fortune to find +Gipsy alone in the parlor, looking perfectly charming in her becoming +_deshabille_. + +"How did you enjoy yourself last night at Mrs. Greer's ball? I saw you +there with that fool of a baronet," said Archie, rather savagely. + +"I enjoyed myself very well, as I always do. And I must beg of you not +to speak of Sir George in that way, Mr. Rivers. I won't allow it." + +"Oh, you won't!" sneered Archie. "You seem to think a great deal of him, +Miss Gower." + +"Why, _of course I do_! He's _so_ handsome--so perfectly +gentlemanlike--so agreeable, and so--everything else. He's a real love +of a man." + +"Oh! the deuce take him!" + +"Why, Mr. Rivers!" said Gipsy, with a very shocked expression of +countenance. + +"Gipsy, be serious for once. I have had something to say to you this +long time, but you have been so precious careful to keep out of my +sight, I've had no chance to say it. Gipsy, do you _love_ Sir George +Stuart?" + +"Why, Archie! _to be sure_ I do." + +"Oh-h-h!" groaned Archie. + +"What's the matter?--got the toothache?" + +"Oh, dear, no. I have the heart-ache!" + +"Sorry to hear it. Better go to Deep Dale and consult Doctor Spider +about it." + +"Will you come with me?" + +"I've no objection. I'm going home to-morrow, and I'd just as lief have +you for an escort as any one else." + +"Then you are not going to be married to Sir George Stuart, Gipsy?" +exclaimed Archie, eagerly. + +"Why, not just now, I think." + +"Gipsy, would you marry me?" + +"Well, I wouldn't mind, if nobody better offers." + +"Oh, Gipsy! be serious; don't laugh at me now. You know you promised, +when a little girl, to be my little wife. Will you, _dear_ Gipsy?" + +"There--gracious me! you're treading on Sambo's toes." + +A howl from an unfortunate black pug dog testified to the truth of this +remark. + +"Men are such awkward creatures! Poor Sambo! did he hurt you?" said +Gipsy, stooping and caressing the ugly little brute. + +"Oh, saints and angels! only hear her. She will drive me mad--I know she +will. Here I offer her my heart, and hand, and fortune (though I don't +happen to have such a thing about me), and she begins talking about +Sambo's toes. That girl will be the death of me. And when I die I'll +charge them to place on my tombstone, 'Died from an overdose of a +coquette.'" + +And Master Archie stamped up and down, and flung his coat-tails about +with an utterly distracted expression of countenance. + +"Why, what nonsense are you going on with there?" inquired Gipsy, +pausing in her task of comforting Sambo, and looking at him in surprise. + +"Nonsense!" exclaimed Archie, pausing before her, and throwing himself +into a tragic attitude. "Infatuated girl! the heart you now cast from +you will haunt you in the dead hours of the night, when everything (but +the mosquitoes) is sleeping; it will be ever before you in your English +home, when you are the bride of Sir George (confound him!) Stuart; it +will----" + +But Master Archie could proceed no further; for Gipsy fell back in her +chair, fairly screaming with laughter. Archie made a desperate effort to +maintain his gravity, but the effort proved a failure, and he was forced +to join Gipsy in an uproarious peal. + +"Oh, dear!" said Gipsy, wiping her eyes, "I don't know when I have +laughed so much." + +"Yes," said Archie, in high dudgeon--"pretty thing to laugh at, too! +After breaking my heart, to begin grinning about it. Humph!" + +"You looked so funny--you looked----" + +Gipsy's voice was lost in another fit of laughter. + +"Come, now, Gipsy, like a good girl, don't laugh any more; but tell me, +_will_ you marry me--will you be my wife?" + +"Why, yes, you dear old goose, you! I never intended to be anything +else. You might have known that I'd be your wife, without making such a +fuss about it," said Gipsy. + +"And Sir George, Gipsy?" + +"Oh, poor fellow, I gave him his _coup de conge_ last night, and he set +out for England this morning." + +"Oh, Gipsy, my dear, you're a pearl without price!" exclaimed Archie, in +a rapture. + +"Glad to hear it, I'm sure. And now _do_ go away, Archie, and don't +bother me any longer; for I must pack up my things and start for home +to-morrow." + +"You little tyrant! Well, I am to accompany you, mind." + +"Just as you please--only _do_ leave me." + +"Little termagant! Accept this ring as a betrothal gift." + +"Well, there--put it on, and for goodness' sake clear out." + +With a glance of comical despair, Mr. Rivers took his hat and quitted +the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +GIPSY'S DARING. + + + "It is a fearful night; a feeble glare + Streams from the sick moon in the overclouded sky, + The ridgy billows, with a mighty cry, + Rush on the foamy beaches wild and bare. + What bark the madness of the waves will dare!" + --BYRON. + +Gipsy was once more at Sunset Hall. Archie had escorted her home and +then returned to Washington. He would have mentioned their engagement to +the squire, and asked his consent to their union, but Gipsy said: + +"No, you mustn't. I hate a fuss; and as I don't intend to be married +for two or three years yet, it will be time enough to tell them all by +and by." + +So Archie, with a sigh, was forced to obey his capricious little love +and go back, after making her promise to let him come down every month +and see her; for she wouldn't write to him--it was "too much bother." + +It began again to seem like old times at St. Mark's. There was Gipsy at +Sunset Hall, keeping them all from dying of torpor, and astonishing the +whole neighborhood by her mad freaks. There was Minnette--the proud, +cold, but now beautiful Minnette--living alone at Deep Dale; for the +doctor had gone from home on business. There was sweet Celeste, the Star +of the Valley, in her little cottage home--the fairest, loveliest maiden +the sun ever shone upon. + +It was a lovely May morning. The air was made jocund with the songs of +birds; the balmy breeze scarce rippled the surface of the bay, where the +sunshine fell in golden glory. + +Through the open doors and windows of Valley Cottage the bright May +sunbeams fell warm and bright; they lingered in broad patches on the +white floor, and touched gently the iron-gray locks of Miss Hagar, as +she sat knitting in her leathern chair in the chimney-corner, as upright +and gray as ever. Years seemed to pass on without touching her; for just +as we first saw her at Lizzie Oranmore's bridal, the same does she +appear to-day. + +In the doorway stands a young girl, tall and graceful, dressed in soft +gray muslin, fastened at her slender waist by a gold-colored belt. _Can_ +this young lady be our little, shy Celeste? Yes; here is the same superb +form, the same dainty little head, with its wealth of pale-gold hair; +the same clear, transparent complexion; the soft, dove-like eyes of +blue; the broad, white queenly forehead; the little, rosy, smiling +mouth. Yes, it is Celeste--celestial, truly, with the promise of her +childhood more than fulfilled. The world and its flatterers--and she has +heard many--have had no power to spoil her pure heart, and she has +returned the same gentle, loving Celeste--the idol of all who know her, +radiating light and beauty wherever she goes, a very angel of charity to +the poor, and beloved and cherished by the rich. More hearts than +Celeste likes to think of have been laid at her feet, to be gently and +firmly, but sadly, refused; for that sound, unsullied heart has never +yet been stirred by the words of man. + +She stood in the doorway, gazing with parted lips and sparkling eyes on +the balmy beauty of that bright spring morning, with a hymn of gratitude +and love to the Author of all this beauty filling her mind. + +Suddenly the sylvan silence of the spot was broken by the thunder of +horse's hoofs, and the next instant Gipsy came bounding along upon the +back of her favorite Mignonne. + +"Good-morning, dear Gipsy," said Celeste, with her own bright smile, as +she hastened to open the gate for her. "Have you been out, as usual, +hunting this morning?" + +"Yes, and there are the spoils," said Gipsy, throwing a well-filled +game-bag on the ground. "I come like a true hunter--a leal knight of the +gay greenwood--to lay them at the feet of my liege lady. I fancied a +canvas-back duck and a bright-winged partridge would not come amiss this +morning. I know my gallop has made me perfectly ravenous." + +"You shall have one of them presently for breakfast," said Celeste, +calling Curly, their little black maid-of-all-work. "Tie Mignonne there, +and come in." + +"By the way, Celeste, you don't seem to think it such an appalling act +to shoot birds now as you used to," said Gipsy, springing from her +horse; "it was once a crime of the first magnitude in your eyes." + +"And I confess it seems a needless piece of cruelty to me still. I could +scarcely do it if I were starving, I think." + +"You always were--with reverence be it spoken--rather a coward, Celeste. +Do you remember the day I shot the bird that Louis saved for you, and +you fell fainting to the ground?" said Gipsy, laughing at the +remembrance. + +"Yes, I remember. I was rather an absurd little thing in those days," +said Celeste, smiling. "How I _did_ love that unlucky little bird!" + +"Oh! that was because Louis gave it to you. There! don't blush. Apropos +of Louis, I wonder where he is now?" + +"In Rome, I suppose; at least Mrs. Oranmore told me so," replied +Celeste. + +"Yes; when last we heard from him he was studying the old masters, as he +calls them--or the old grannies, as Guardy calls them. I shouldn't +wonder if he became quite famous yet, and--oh, Celeste! where did you +get that pretty chain and cross?" abruptly asked Gipsy, as her eye fell +on the trinket. + +"A present," said Celeste, smiling and blushing. + +Gipsy's keen eyes were fixed on her face with so quizzical an +expression, that the rose-hue deepened to crimson on her fair cheek as +they passed into the house. And Gipsy went up and shook hands with Miss +Hagar, and seated herself on a low stool at her feet, to relate the +morning's adventures, while Celeste laid the cloth and set the table for +breakfast. + +After breakfast Gipsy rode off in the direction of Deep Dale. On +entering the parlor she found Minnette sitting reading. + +Minnette--now a tall, splendidly developed, womanly girl, with the +proud, handsome face of her childhood--rose and welcomed her guest with +cold courtesy. The old, fiery light lurked still in her black eyes; but +the world had learned her to subdue it, and a coldly-polite reserve had +taken the place of the violent outburst of passion so common in her +tempestuous childhood. + +"Don't you find it horribly dull here, Minnette?" said Gipsy, swallowing +a rising yawn. + +"No," replied Minnette; "I prefer solitude. There are few--_none_, +perhaps--who sympathize with me, and in books I find companions." + +"Well, I prefer less silent companions, for my part," said Gipsy. "I +don't believe in making an old hermit or bookworm of myself for +anybody." + +"Every one to her taste," was the cold rejoinder. + +"When do you expect your father home?" inquired Gipsy. + +"To-night." + +"Then he'll have a storm to herald his coming," said Gipsy, going to the +window and scanning the heavens with a practiced eye. + +"A storm--impossible!" said Minnette. "There is not a cloud in the sky." + +"Nevertheless, we shall have a storm," said Gipsy. "I read the sky as +truly as you do your books; and if he attempts to enter the bay +to-night, I'm inclined to think that the first land he makes will be the +bottom." + +Minnette heard this intelligence with the utmost coolness, saying only: + +"Indeed! I did not know you were such a judge of the weather. Well, +probably, when they see the storm coming, they will put into some place +until it is over." + +"If they don't, I wouldn't give much for their chance of life," said +Gipsy, as she arose to go; "but don't worry, Minnette--all may be right +yet." + +Minnette looked after her with a scornful smile. Fret! She had little +intention of doing it; and five minutes after the departure of Gipsy she +was so deeply immersed in her book as to forget everything else. + +As the day wore on and evening approached, Gipsy's prophecy seemed about +to prove true. Dark, leaden clouds rolled about the sky; the wind no +longer blew in a steady breeze, but howled in wild gusts. The bosom of +the bay was tossing and moaning wildly, heaving and plunging as though +struggling madly in agony. Gipsy seized her telescope, and running up to +one of the highest rooms in the old hall, swept an anxious glance across +the troubled face of the deep. Far out, scarcely distinguishable from +the white caps of the billows, she beheld the sail of a vessel driving, +with frightful rapidity, toward the coast--driving toward its own doom; +for, once near those foaming breakers covering the sunken reefs of +rocks, no human being could save her. Gipsy stood gazing like one +fascinated; and onward still the doomed bark drove--like a lost soul +rushing to its own destruction. + +Night and darkness at last shut out the ill-fated ship from her view. +Leaving the house, she hastily made her way to the shore, and standing +on a high, projecting peak, waited for the moon to rise, to view the +scene of tempest and death. + +It lifted its wan, spectral face at last from behind a bank of dull, +black clouds, and lit up with its ghastly light the heaving sea and +driving vessel. The tempest seemed momentarily increasing. The waves +boiled, and seethed, and foamed, and lashed themselves in fury against +the beetling rocks. And, holding by a projecting cliff, Gipsy stood +surveying the scene. You might have thought her the spirit of the +storm, looking on the tempest she had herself raised. Her black hair and +thin dress streamed in the wind behind her, as she stood leaning +forward, her little, wild, dark face looking strange and weird, with its +blazing eyes, and cheeks burning with the mad excitement of the scene. +Down below her, on the shore, a crowd of hardy fishermen were gathered, +watching with straining eyes the gallant craft that in a few moments +would be a broken ruin. On the deck could be plainly seen the crew, +making most superhuman exertions to save themselves from the terrible +fate impending over them. + +All in vain! Ten minutes more and they would be dashed to pieces. Gipsy +could endure the maddening sight no longer. Leaping from the cliff, she +sprang down the rocks, like a mountain kid, and landed among the +fishermen, who were too much accustomed to see her among them in scenes +like this to be much startled by it now. + +"Will you let them perish before your eyes?" she cried, wildly. "Are you +men, to stand here idle in a time like this? Out with the boats; and +save their lives!" + +"Impossible, Miss Gipsy!" answered half a dozen voices. "No boat could +live in such a surf." + +"Oh, great heaven! And must they die miserably before your very eyes, +without even making an effort to save them?" she exclaimed, +passionately, wringing her hands. "Oh, that I were a man! Listen! +Whoever will make the attempt shall receive five hundred dollars +reward!" + +Not one moved. Life could not be sacrificed for money. + +"There she goes!" cried a voice. + +Gipsy turned to look. A wild, prolonged shriek of mortal agony rose +above the uproar of the storm, and the crew were left struggling for +life in the boiling waves. + +With a piercing cry, scarcely less anguished than their own, the mad +girl bounded to the shore, pushed off a light _batteau_, seized the +oars, and the next moment was dancing over the foaming waves. + +A shout of fear and horror arose from the shore at the daring act. She +heeded it not, as, bending all her energies to the task of guiding her +frail bark through the tempestuous billows, she bent her whole strength +to the oars. + +Oh! surely her guardian angel steered that boat on its errand of mercy +through the heaving, tempest-tossed sea! The salt spray seemed blinding +her as it dashed in her face; but on she flew, now balanced for a moment +on the top of a snowy hill of foam, the next, sunk down, down, as though +it were never more to rise. + +"Leap into the boat!" she cried, in a clear, shrill voice, that made +itself heard, even above the storm. + +Strong hands clutched it with the desperation of death, and two heavy +bodies rolled violently in. The weight nearly overset the light skiff; +but, bending her body to the oars, she righted it again. + +"Where are the rest?" she exclaimed, wildly. + +"All gone to the bottom. Give me the oars!" cried a voice. + +She felt herself lifted from where she sat, placed gently in the bottom +of the boat, and then all consciousness left her, and, overcome by the +excitement, she fainted where she lay. + +When she again opened her eyes she was lying in the arms of some one on +the shore, with a circle of troubled, anxious faces around her. She +sprang up wildly. + +"Are they saved?" she exclaimed, looking around. + +"Yes; thanks to your heroism, our lives are preserved," said a voice +beside her. + +She turned hastily round. It was Doctor Nicholas Wiseman. Another form +lay stark and rigid on the sand, with men bending over him. + +A deadly sickness came over Gipsy--she knew not why it was. She turned +away, with a violent shudder, from his outstretched hand, and bent over +the still form on the sand. All made way for her with respectful +deference; and she knelt beside him and looked in his face. He was a +boy--a mere youth, but singularly handsome, with a look of deep repose +on his almost beautiful face. + +"Is he dead?" she cried, in a voice of piercing anguish. + +"No; only stunned," said the doctor, coming over and feeling his pulse. + +"Take him to Sunset Hall, then," said Gipsy, turning to some of the men +standing by. + +A shutter was procured, and the senseless form of the lad placed upon +it, and, raising it on their shoulders, they bore him in the direction +of the old mansion-house. + +Doctor Wiseman went toward his own home. And Gipsy, the free mountain +maid, leaped up the rocks, feeling, for the first time in her life, sick +and giddy. Oh! better, far better for her had they but perished in the +seething waves! + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE SAILOR BOY'S DOOM. + + + "With gentle hand and soothing tongue + She bore the leech's part; + And while she o'er his sick bed hung + He paid her with his heart."--SCOTT. + +The sunshine of a breezy June morning fell pleasantly into the chamber +of the invalid. It was a bright, airy room--a perfect paradise of a sick +chamber--with its snowy curtained bed, its tempting easy-chair, its +white lace window curtains fluttering softly in the morning air. The +odor of flowers came wafted through the open casement; and the merry +chirping of a bright-winged canary, hanging in the sunshine, filled the +room with its cheerful music. + +Reclining in the easy-chair, gazing longingly out at the glorious +sunshine, sat the young sailor whose life Gipsy had saved. His heavy +dark hair fell in shining waves over his pale, intelligent brow; and his +large blue eyes had a look of dreamy melancholy that few female hearts +could have resisted. + +Suddenly his eye lighted up, and his whole face brightened, as a clear, +sweet voice, singing a gay carol, met his ear. Gipsy still retained her +old habit of singing as she walked; and the next moment the door opened, +and she stood, like some bright vision, before him, with cheeks glowing, +eyes sparkling, and her countenance bright and radiant from her morning +ride; her dark purple riding-habit setting off to the best advantage her +straight, slight; rounded form; and her jaunty riding-hat, with its +long, sweeping, sable plume, giving her the air of a young mountain +queen, crowned with vitality, and sceptered with life and beauty. + +"Oh, I have had such a charming canter over the hills this morning," she +cried, with her wild, breezy laugh. "How I wished you had been well +enough to accompany me. Mignonne fairly flew, leaping over yawning +chasms and rocks as though he felt not the ground beneath him. But I am +forgetting--how do you feel this morning?" + +"Much better, sweet lady. Who could be long ill with such a nurse?" he +replied, while his fine eyes lit up with admiration and gratitude. + +Gipsy, be it known, had installed herself as the nurse of the young +sailor; and, by her sleepless care and tender nursing, had almost +restored him from death to life. And when he became convalescent, she +would sit by his bedside for hours, reading, talking, and singing for +him, until gratitude on his part ripened into fervent love; while she +only looked upon him as she would on any other stranger--taking an +interest in him only on account of his youth and friendliness, and +because she had saved his life. + +"Well, I'm glad to hear it, I'm sure! I want you to hurry and get well, +so you can ride out with me. Are you a good horseman?" + +"Yes, I think so," he said, smiling. + +"Because, if you're not, you mustn't attempt to try our hills. It takes +an expert rider, I can tell you, to gallop over them without breaking +his neck." + +"Yet _you_ venture, fairest lady." + +"_Me?_ Ha, ha! Why, I've been on horseback ever since I was two years +old. My horse is my other self. I could as soon think of living without +laughing as without Mignonne." + +"Then, sweet lady, you will kindly be my teacher in the art of riding." + +"Oh, I wouldn't want better fun; but look here, Mr. Danvers, don't be +'sweet lady'-ing me! I ain't used to it, you know. People generally call +me 'Monkey,' 'Imp,' 'Torment,' 'Wretch,' and other pet names of a like +nature. But if you don't like any of them, call me Gipsy, or Gipsy +Gower, but don't call me 'sweet lady' again. You see, I never could +stand nicknames." + +"And may I ask you why you have received those names?" inquired the +young midshipman (for such he was), laughing. + +"Why, because I _am_ an imp, a wretch, and always was--and always will +be, for that matter. I believe I was made to keep the world alive. Why, +everybody in St. Mark's would be dead of the blues if it weren't for +me." + +"Yes; I have heard of some of your wild antics. That good old lady, Mrs. +Gower, was with me last night, and we had quite a long conversation +about you, I assure you." + +"Poor dear aunty, she's at her wits' end, sometimes, to know what to do +with me. And, by that same token, here she comes. Speak of somebody, and +he'll appear, you know." + +Mrs. Gower opened the door, flushed and palpitating with her walk +up-stairs. Poor Mrs. Gower was "waxing fat" with years; and it was no +easy task for her to toil her way up the long staircase of Sunset Hall. + +"Oh, Gipsy, my dear!" she exclaimed, all in a glow of pleasurable +excitement, "guess who's come!" + +"Who, who?" cried Gipsy, eagerly. + +"Archie!" + +Up sprang Gipsy, flew past Mrs. Gower, and was down the stairs in a +twinkling. + +"Archie! who the deuce is he?" thought the young midshipman, with a +jealous twinge. + +"You seem to have brought Miss Gower pleasant news," he remarked, by way +of drawing her out, after he had answered her inquiries about his +health. + +"Why, yes, it's natural she should be glad to meet her old playmate," +replied the unsuspecting old lady. + +"Ah! her old playmate. Then she has known him for a long time?" + +"Yes; they were children together, grew up together, and were always +fond of one another. It has always been my dearest wish to see them +united; and I dare say they will be yet." + +The youth's face was turned to the window as she spoke, or good Mrs. +Gower might have been startled by his paleness. As he asked no more +questions, the worthy old lady began to think he might wish to be left +to himself; so, after a few general directions to be sure and take care +of himself and not catch cold, she quitted the room. + +Meantime, Archie and Gipsy were holding a very animated conversation in +the parlor below. Archie was relating how he had undertaken a very +important case, that would call him from home for four or five months; +and that, when it was over, he would be rich enough to set up an +establishment for himself, and return to St. Mark's to claim his little +bride. + +"And now, Gipsy," he concluded, "what mischief have you been +perpetrating since I saw you last? Who have you locked up, or shot, or +ran away with since?" + +In reply, Gipsy related the story of the wreck, and went into ecstasies +on the beauty of Mr. Harry Danvers, U. S. N. Archie listened with a +savage frown, that grew perceptibly more savage every moment. Gipsy saw +it, and maliciously praised him more and more. + +"Oh, Archie, he's the handsomest fellow I ever met. So agreeable and +polite, with such a beautiful, melancholy countenance!" + +"Oh, curse his melancholy countenance!" + +"For shame, sir! How can you speak so of my friends? But it's just like +you. You always were a cross, disagreeable old thing--now then!" + +"Yes; I'm not such a sweet seraph as this agreeable and polite young son +of Neptune," said Mr. Rivers, with a withering sneer. "Just let me catch +sight of his 'beautiful, melancholy countenance,' and maybe I'll spoil +its beauty for him." + +"Now, Archie, you're real hateful. I'm sure you'll like him when you see +him." + +"Like him! Yes, I'd like to blow his brains out." + +"No, you mustn't, either; he's too handsome to be killed. Oh, Archie, +when he laughs he looks so charming!" + +"Confound him! _I'll_ make him laugh on the other side of his mouth!" +growled the exasperated Archie. + +"He's got _such_ a sweet mouth and _such_ lovely white teeth!" continued +the tantalizing fairy. + +"I wish he and his white teeth were at the bottom of the Red Sea!" burst +out Archie, in a rage. + +"Why, Mr. Rivers, you're positively jealous!" said Gipsy, looking very +much surprised indeed. + +"Jealous! Yes, I should think so. You are enough to drive any one +jealous. Suppose I began raving about young ladies--their 'melancholy +countenances,' and 'sweet mouths,' and 'white teeth,' and all such +stuff--how would you like it, I want to know?" + +"Why, I shouldn't care." + +"You wouldn't? Oh, Jupiter Olympus! Only hear _that_!" exclaimed +Archie, striding up and down in a towering passion. "That shows all you +care about _me_! Going and falling in love with the first old tarry +sailor you meet! I won't endure it! I'll blow my brains out--I'll----" + +"Well, don't do it in the house, then. Pistols make a noise, and might +disturb Mr. Danvers." + +Archie fell into a chair with a deep groan. + +"There, don't look so dismal. I declare, you give me a fit of the blues +every time you come to see me. Why can't you be pleasant, and laugh?" + +"Laugh!" exclaimed poor Archie. + +"Yes, _laugh_! I'm sure you used to be forever grinning. Poor, dear Mr. +Danvers is sick, yet _he_ laughs." + +"Mr. Danvers again!" shouted Archie, springing to his feet. "May Lucifer +twist Mr. Danvers' neck for him! I won't stay another minute in the +house. I'll clear out, and never see you more. I'll never enter your +presence again, you heartless girl!" + +"Well, won't you take a cup of coffee before you go?" said Gipsy, with +her sweetest smile. + +"Hallo, Jupiter! Jupiter, I say, bring round my horse. And now, most +faithless of women, I leave you forever. Life is now a blank to me; and, +ere yonder sun sets, I shall be in eternity." + +"Is it possible? Won't you write when you get there, and let me know if +it's a good place for lawyers to settle in?" + +Oh! such a groan as followed this! Casting a tragical look of despair at +Gipsy, who sat smiling serenely, Archie rushed from the house. + +Ten minutes later he was back again. Gipsy had stretched herself on a +sofa, and was apparently fast asleep. + +"Heartless girl!" exclaimed Archie, shaking her; "wake up, Gipsy!" + +"Oh! is it you?" said Gipsy, drowsily opening her eyes. "What did you +wake me up for? I thought you had started on your journey to eternity." + +"Gipsy, shall I go?" + +"Just as you please, Archie--only let me go to sleep, and don't bother +me." + +"Oh, Gipsy!--you cruel coquette! won't you bid me stay?" + +"Well, _stay_, then! I wish to goodness you wouldn't be such a pest." + +"Gipsy, tell me--do you love me or Mr. Danvers best?" + +"I don't love either of you--there, now! And I tell you what, Archie +Rivers, if you don't go off and let me get asleep, I'll never speak to +you again. Mind that!" + +With a deep sigh, Archie obeyed, and walked out of the room with a most +dejected expression of countenance. No sooner was he gone than Gipsy +sprang up, and, clapping her hands, danced round the room--her eyes +sparkling with delight. + +"Oh, it's such fun!" she exclaimed. "Poor, dear Archie!--if I haven't +made him a victim to the 'green-eyed monster!' Mr. Danvers, indeed! As +if that dear, good-natured Archie wasn't worth all the Mr. Danvers that +ever adorned the quarterdeck! Oh! won't I flirt, though, and make the +'distinguished Mr. Rivers' so jealous, that he won't know whether he's +standing on his head or his heels! If I _am_ to settle down into a +hum-drum Mrs. Rivers some day, I'll have as much frolic as I can before +it. So, Master Archie, look out for the 'wrath that's to come;' for your +agonies won't move me in the least." + +And never did any one keep her word more faithfully than Gipsy. During +the fortnight that Archie was to stay with them she flirted unmercifully +with the handsome young midshipman, who was now able to ride out, quite +unconscious of all the hopes she was rousing in his bosom. Poor Gipsy! +little did she dream that, while she rode by his side, and bestowed upon +him her enchanting smiles, and wore the colors he liked, and sang the +songs he loved, to torment the unhappy Archie, that he, believing her +serious, had already surrendered his heart to the bewitching sprite, and +reposed in the blissful dream of one day calling her his! + +Archie Rivers _was_ jealous. Many were the ferocious glances he cast +upon the young sailor; and many and dire were his threats of vengeance. +But Gipsy, mad girl, only listened and laughed, and knew not that +_another_ pair of ears heard those threats, and would one day use them +to her destruction. + +But matters were now drawing to a crisis. The young midshipman was now +quite restored to health, and found himself obliged to turn his thoughts +toward his own home. Archie's fortnight had elapsed; but still he +lingered--too jealous to leave while his rival remained. + +One bright moonlight night the three were gathered in the cool, wide +porch in front of the mansion. Gipsy stood in the doorway--her white +dress fluttering in the breeze--binding in her dark, glossy curls a +wreath of crimson rosebuds, given her a few moments previous by Mr. +Danvers. All her smiles, and words, and glances were directed toward +him. Archie was apparently forgotten. + +"Please sing one of your charming songs, Miss Gipsy; this is just the +hour for music," said Mr. Danvers. + +"With pleasure. What shall it be?--your favorite?" inquired Gipsy, +taking her guitar and seating herself at his feet. + +"If you will be so good," he replied, his eyes sparkling with pleasure +at her evident preference. + +Archie's brow grew dark. He hated the sailor's favorite song, because it +_was_ his favorite. This Gipsy well knew; and her brown eyes twinkled +with mischief, as she began, in her clear, sweet voice: + + "'Sleeping, I dream, love--I dream, love, of thee; + O'er the bright waves, love, floating with thee; + Light in thy soft hair played the soft wind, + Fondly thy white arms around me were twined; + And as thy song, love, swelled o'er the sea, + Fondly thy blue eyes beamed, love, on me.'" + +She hesitated a moment, and looked up in his face, as though really +intending the words for him. He was bending over her, pale and +panting--his blue eyes blazing with a light that brought the crimson +blood in a rosy tide to her very temples. She stopped abruptly. + +"Go on!" he said, in a low voice. + +She hesitated, glanced at Archie, and seeing the storm-cloud on his +brow, the demon of mischief once more conquered her better nature, and +she resumed: + + "'Soon o'er the bright waves howled forth the gale, + Fiercely the lightning flashed on our sail, + And as our frail bark drove through the sea, + Thine eyes, like loadstones, beamed, love, on me. + Oh, heart, awaken!--wrecked on lone shore, + Thou art forsaken!--dream, heart, no more.'" + +Ere the last words were uttered, Archie had seized his hat and rushed +from the house; and Danvers, forgetting everything save the entrancing +creature at his feet, clasped her suddenly in his arms, and passionately +exclaimed: + +"Oh, Gipsy! my love! my life, my beautiful mountain sprite!--can you, +will you love me?" + +With a wild, sharp cry of terror and anger, she broke from his arms, and +sprang back, with flashing eyes. + +"Back, sir, back!--I command you! How _dare_ you attempt such a liberty +with me?" + +How beautiful she looked in her wrath, with her blazing eyes, and +crimson cheeks, and straight little form drawn up to its full height, in +surprise and indignation. + +He stood gazing at her for a moment--amazed, thunderstruck at the +change. Then, seeing only her enchanting beauty, he took a step forward, +threw himself at her feet, and broke forth passionately: + +"Gipsy, I love you--I worship you. Have you been mocking me all this +time?--or do you love me, too?" + +"Rise, sir! I have neither been mocking you, nor do I love you! Rise! +rise! Kneel not to me!" + +"And I have been deceived? Oh, falsest of false ones! why did you learn +me to love you?" + +"Mr. Danvers, don't call me names. As to the learning you to love _me_, +I never attempted such a thing in my life! I'd scorn to do it," she +said, indignantly; but even while she spoke, the blood rushed in a fiery +torrent to her face, and then back to her heart, for she thought of all +the encouragement her merciless flirtation must have given him. + +"You did, Gipsy, you know you _did_!" he vehemently exclaimed. "Every +encouragement that could be given to a lover, you gave to me; and +I--fool that I was--I believed you, never dreaming that I should find a +flinty, hardened flirt in one whom I took to be a pure-hearted mountain +maiden." + +Had Gipsy felt herself innocent of the charge, how indignantly she would +have denied it. But the consciousness of guilt sent the crimson once +more to her brow, as she replied in a low, hurried tone: + +"Mr. Danvers, I have done wrong! Forgive me! As heaven is my witness, I +dreamed not that you cared for me. It was my mad, wild love of mischief +brought all this about. Mr. Danvers, it is as yet a secret, but Mr. +Rivers is my betrothed husband. Some fiend prompted me to make him +jealous, and to accomplish that end I--I blush to say it--flirted with +you; alas, never dreaming you thought anything of it. And now that I +have acknowledged my fault, will you forgive me, and--be my friend?" + +She extended her hand. He smiled bitterly, and passed her without +touching it. Then leaving the house, he mounted his horse and galloped +furiously away. Prophetic, indeed, were the words with which her song +had ended--words that came pealing through the dim aisles of the forest +after him, as he plunged frantically along: + + "Oh, heart, awaken!--wrecked on lone shore, + Thou art forsaken!--dream, heart, no more!" + +Gipsy stood still in the porch, cold and pale, awaiting his return. But +though she waited until the stars grew dim in the sky, he came not. +Morning dawned, and found her pale with undefined fear, but still he was +absent. + +After breakfast, Archie came over, still angry and sullen, after the +previous night's scene, to find Gipsy quieter and more gentle than he +had ever seen her before in her life. + +"I wish he would come! I wish he would come!" cried her wild, excited +heart, as she paced up and down, until her eyes grew bright and her +cheeks grew burning hot, with feverish watching and vague fear. + +"You look ill and excited, Gipsy. A canter over the hills will do you +good," said Archie, anxiously. + +She eagerly assented, and leaping on Mignonne's back, dashed away at a +tremendous pace, yet could not go half quick enough to satisfy her +restless longing to fly, fly, she knew not where. + +"Where are you going, Gipsy?" cried Archie, who found some difficulty to +keep up with the break-neck pace at which she rode. + +"To the Black Gorge," was her reply, as she thundered over the cliff. + +"Why, Gipsy! what possesses you to go to that wild place?" said Archie, +in surprise. + +"I don't know--I feel as if I must go there! Don't talk to me, Archie! I +believe I'm crazy this morning!" + +She flew on swifter than ever, until they reached the spot--a huge, +black, yawning gulf among the hills. She rode so close to the fearful +brink that Archie's heart stood still in horror. + +"Are you mad, Gipsy?" he cried, seizing her bridle-rein and forcing her +back. "One false step, and your brains would be dashed out against the +rocks." + +But, fixing her eyes on the dark chasm, she answered him only by a wild, +prolonged shriek, so full of piercing anguish that his blood seemed +curdling in his veins, while, with bloodless face and quivering finger, +she pointed to the gulf. + +He leaped from his horse and approached the dizzy edge. And there a +sight met his eyes that froze his heart with horror. + +"Great God!" he cried, springing back, with a face deadly white. "A +horse and rider lie dead and mangled below!" + +A deadly faintness came over Gipsy; the ground seemed reeling around +her, and countless stars danced before her eyes. For a moment she was +on the verge of swooning, then by a powerful effort the tide of life +rolled back, and she leaped from her horse and stood by his side. + +"It is impossible to reach the bottom," cried Archie, in a voice low +with horror. "A cat could hardly clamber down those perpendicular +sides." + +"I can do it, Archie; I often went up and down there when a child," +exclaimed Gipsy; and ere Archie could restrain her, the fearless girl +had caught hold of a stunted spruce tree and swung herself over the edge +of the appalling gorge. + +Archie Rivers scarcely breathed; he felt as though he scarcely lived +while she rapidly descended by catching the matted shrubs growing along +its sides. She was down at last, and bending over the mangled form +below. + +"Gipsy! Gipsy! do you recognize him?" cried Archie. + +She looked up, and he saw a face from which every trace of life seemed +to have fled. + +"Yes," she replied, hoarsely. "_It is Danvers!_ Ride--ride for your life +to Sunset Hall, and bring men and ropes to take him up!" + +In an instant he was in the saddle, and off. In less than an hour he +returned, with half the population in the village after him, whom the +news of the catastrophe had brought together. + +Ropes were lowered to Gipsy, who still remained where Archie had left +her, and the lifeless form of the young man drawn up. Gipsy, refusing +all aid, clambered up the side, and the mournful cavalcade set out for +Sunset Hall. + +He was quite dead. It was evident he had fallen, in the darkness, into +the gorge, and been instantly killed. His fair hair hung, clotted with +blood, round his forehead: and a fearful gash in the temple showed the +wound whence his young life had flowed away. And Gipsy, feeling as +though she were his murderess, sat by his side, and, gazing on the +still, cold form, shed the first bitter tears that had ever fallen from +her eyes. By some strange coincidence, it was in that self-same spot the +dead body of Barry Oranmore had been found. + +Poor Gipsy! The sunshine was fast fading out of her sky, and the clouds +of fate gathering thick and fast around her. She wept now for +another--knowing not how soon she was to weep for herself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE SPIDER WEAVES HIS WEB. + + + "A fearful sign stands in thy house of life-- + An enemy--a fiend lurks close behind + The radiance of thy planet. Oh, be warned!" + --COLERIDGE. + + + "And now a darker hour ascends."--MARMION. + +A week after the event recorded in the last chapter Archie went back to +the city. Before he went, he had obtained a promise from Gipsy--who had +grown strangely still and gentle since the death of Danvers--to become +his wife immediately upon his return; but, with her usual eccentricity, +she refused to allow him to make their engagement public. + +"Time enough by and by," was still her answer; and Archie was forced to +be content. + +Gipsy was, for a while, sad and quiet, but both were foreign to her +character; and, with the natural buoyancy of youth, she shook off her +gloom, and soon once more her merry laugh made music through the old +house. + +Doctor Nicholas Wiseman sometimes made his appearance at Sunset Hall of +late. Lizzie was suffering from a low fever; and as he was the only +physician in St. Mark's, he was called in. + +As he sat one day in the parlor at luncheon with the squire, Gipsy came +tripping along with her usual elastic step, and touching her hat +gallantly to the gentlemen, ran up to her own room. The squire's eyes +followed her with a look of fond pride. + +"Did you ever see such another charming little vixen?" he asked, turning +to the doctor. + +"Miss Gower's certainly an extraordinary young lady," said the doctor, +dryly. "I have often been surprised, Squire Erliston, that you should +treat your housekeeper's niece as one of your own family." + +"She's not my housekeeper's niece," blurted out the squire; "she +was----" + +He paused, suddenly recollecting that the discovery of Gipsy was a +secret. + +"She was what?" said the doctor, fixing his keen eyes on the old man's +face. + +"Well, hang it, Wiseman, I suppose it makes no difference whether I tell +_you_ or not. Gipsy is not Mrs. Gower's niece: she is a foundling." + +"Yes," said the doctor, pricking up his ears. + +"Yes, last Christmas Eve, just seventeen years ago, Mrs. Gower, +returning from A----, found Gipsy lying on the beach, near the south end +of the city." + +Long habit had given Dr. Wiseman full control over his emotions, but now +the blood rushed in a purple tide to his sallow face, as he leaped from +his chair and fairly shouted: + +"_What!_" + +"Eh? Lord bless the man!--what's the matter?" said the squire, staring +at him until his little fat eyes seemed ready to burst from their +sockets. + +"What did you say?--found her on the beach on Christmas Eve, seventeen +years ago?" said the doctor, seizing him fiercely by the arm, and +glaring upon him with his yellow eyes. + +"Yes, I said so. What in the name of all the demons is the matter with +you?" roared the squire, shaking him off. "What do _you_ know about it?" + +"Nothing! nothing! nothing!" replied the doctor, remembering himself, +and sinking back in his chair. "Pray, go on." + +The squire eyed him suspiciously. + +"My dear sir," said the doctor, every trace of emotion now passed away, +"forgive my violence. But, really, the story seemed so improbable----" + +"Improbable or not, sir," interrupted the squire, angry at being +doubted, "it's true as Gospel. It was a snowy, unpleasant night. Mrs. +Gower and Jupiter were returning from the city, and took the shore road +in preference to going over the hills. As they went along, Mrs. Gower +was forced to get out on account of the dangerous road; and hearing a +child cry, she stooped down, and found Gipsy lying wrapped up in a +shawl, in the sand. Well, sir, _my_ housekeeper, as a matter of +course--being a humane woman--brought the child (which could not have +been a week old) home, and gave it her name. And _that_, sir, is the +history of Gipsy Gower, let it seem ever so improbable." + +Like lightning there flashed across the mind of the doctor the +recollection of the advancing sleigh-bells which had startled him from +the beach. This, then, was the secret of her disappearance! This, then, +was the child of Esther Erliston and Alfred Oranmore! This wild, +untamed, daring elf was the heiress, in her mother's right, of all the +broad lands of the Erlistons. She had been brought up as a dependent in +the house of which she was the rightful heiress: and the squire dreamed +not that his "monkey" was his grandchild! + +Thoughts like these flashed like lightning through the mind of Dr. +Wiseman. The sudden, startling discovery bewildered him; he felt unequal +to the task of conversing. And making some excuse, he arose abruptly, +entered his gig, and letting the reins fall on his horse's neck, allowed +him to make the best of his way home; while, with his head dropped on +his breast, he pondered on the strange disclosure he had just heard. + +No one living, it was evident, knew who she was, save himself. What +would old Dame Oranmore say when she heard it? Wretch as he was, he +found himself forced to acknowledge the hand of a ruling Providence in +all this. The child who had been cast out to die had been nurtured in +the home that was hers by right. By _his_ hand the mother had perished; +yet the heroism of the daughter had preserved his worthless life. + +"What use shall I make of this discovery?" he mused, as he rode along. +"How can I turn it to my own advantage? If I wish it, I can find little +difficulty in convincing the world that she is the rightful heiress of +Mount Sunset, instead of Louis Oranmore. But how to do it, without +implicating myself--that's the question. There was no witness to the +death-bed scene of Esther Erliston; and I can assert that Madam Oranmore +caused me to remove the child, without mentioning the mother at all. I +can also easily feign some excuse for leaving her in the snow--talk +about my remorse and anguish at finding her gone, and all that. Now, if +I could only get this hare-brained girl securely in my power, in such a +way as to make her money the price of her freedom, I would not hesitate +one moment about proclaiming it all. But how to get her in my power--she +is keen and wide-awake, with all her madness, and not half so easily +duped as most girls of her age. Let me think!" + +His head fell lower, his claw-like hands opened and shut as though +clutching some one, his brows knit in a hard knot, and his eyes seemed +burning holes in the ground, with their wicked, immovable gaze. + +At last, his mind seemed to be made up. Lifting his head, he said, with +calm, grim determination: + +"Yes, my mind is made up; that--girl--shall--be--my--WIFE!" + +Again he paused. His project, when repeated aloud, seemed so impossible +to accomplish that it almost startled him. + +"It may be difficult to bring about," he said, as if in answer to his +momentary hesitation. "No doubt it will; but, nevertheless, it shall, it +will, it _must_ be done! Once her husband, and I shall have a legal +right to everything she possesses. The world need not know I have made +the discovery until after our marriage; it shall think it is for love I +marry her. Love!--ha, ha, ha! Just fancy Dr. Wiseman, at the age of +fifty-nine, falling in love with a chit of a girl of seventeen! Well, I +shall set my wits to work; and if I fail to accomplish it, it will be +the first time I have ever failed in aught I have undertaken. She calls +me a spider; let her take care lest she be caught--lest her bright wings +are imprisoned in the web I will weave. Her opposition will be fierce +and firm; and, if I have studied her aright, she can only be conquered +through those she loves. That she loves that whipper-snapper of a nephew +of mine, I have long known; and yet that very love shall make her +become my wife. And so my bright little Gipsy Gower--or Gipsy +Oranmore--from this day forth you are mine!" + + * * * * * + +"Look here, aunty," said Gipsy, following Mrs. Gower, as she wandered +through the house, brush in hand, "what brings that old spider here so +often of late? He and Guardy appear to be as thick as two +pickpockets--though, a few years ago, Guardy detested the sight of him. +They are for everlasting closeted together, plotting something. Now, +aunty, it looks suspicious, don't it?" + +"I am afraid Dr. Wiseman is drawing your guardian into some rash +speculation," said Mrs. Gower. "The squire is always muttering about +'stocks,' and 'interest,' and such things. I am afraid the doctor is +using him for his own purposes. Heaven forgive me if I wrong him!" + +"Wrong him! I tell you, aunty, that Spider's a regular snake. I wouldn't +trust him as far as I could see him. He has a way of looking at me that +I don't half like. Whenever I'm in the room he stares and stares at me, +as if I were some natural curiosity. Perhaps he's falling in love with +me. There! I tell you what, aunty--I've just hit the right thing in the +middle--he's meditating whether or not he'll raise me to the dignity of +Mrs. Spider Wiseman--I know he is!" exclaimed Gipsy, laughing, little +dreaming how near she had stumbled to the truth. + +"Nonsense, child. A man of Dr. Wiseman's age and habits has little +thought of taking a wife, much less such a wild one as you. I hope it +may all turn out well, though I have my doubts." + +"So have I," said Gipsy; "and I'm going to keep a bright lookout for +breakers ahead. If that yellow old ogre tries to bamboozle poor, dear, +simple Guardy, he'll find himself in a worse scrape than when I saved +him from drowning. I know I was born to be a knight-errant, and protect +innocent old men, and astonish the world generally. And now I must run +up stairs, and see if I can do anything for poor little Aunt Liz." + +While Gipsy was conversing with Mrs. Gower, a dialogue of a different +nature was going on in the parlor betwixt the squire and the doctor. + +Artfully had Dr. Wiseman's plans been laid, and skillfully were they +executed. With his oily, persuasive words, and flattering tongue, he had +got the squire completely and irrecoverably in his power, in order that +the hand of his ward might be the price of his freedom. + +Dr. Wiseman knew the squire always had a mania for speculating. Taking +advantage of this, he entrapped him into investing in some mad scheme, +which failed, as the doctor well knew it would, leaving the squire +hopelessly in debt. Of all his creditors he owed the doctor himself the +most; for that obliging man had insisted on lending him large sums of +ready money. And now the time of payment was at hand, and where should +he obtain the money? + +Squire Erliston was rich--that is, the estate of Mount Sunset was in +itself a princely fortune; but this was to descend to his grandson; and +the squire had too much pride to allow it to go to him burdened with +debt. Neither could he mortgage any part of it to pay off the debt. He +felt that his heir ought not to suffer for his own madness. Besides, he +did not wish his grandson to know how egregiously he had allowed himself +to be duped by a set of sharpers. Therefore he now sat listening to the +doctor, half-stupefied at learning the extent of his losses--the amount +of debts which he had no means of paying; while the doctor condoled with +him outwardly, and chuckled inwardly at the success of his plans. + +"Moore, to whom you are indebted to the amount of twenty thousand +dollars, even goes so far as to threaten law proceedings if he is not +immediately paid," said the doctor, continuing the conversation. + +The squire groaned. + +"I told him it might not be convenient for you to meet so many heavy +liabilities at once; but he would not listen to reason--said he would +give you a week to deliberate, and if at the end of that time the money +was not forthcoming, your _rascality_, as he termed it, should be openly +proclaimed to the world, and the law would force you to pay." + +"Oh, Lord!" said the squire, writhing inwardly. + +"His intention, without doubt, is to obtain a claim on Mount Sunset; +and, your other creditors joining him, the whole estate will finally +become theirs." + +"Never!" shouted the squire, leaping fiercely to his feet. "I will shoot +every villain among them first! Mount Sunset has been in our family for +years, and no gang of swindlers shall ever possess it." + +"My dear sir," said the doctor, soothingly, "do not be excited. It is +useless, and will only make matters worse. You see you are completely in +their power, and there is no possible hope of escape. In spite of all +you can do, I fear Mount Sunset will be theirs, and you and your family +will be turned out upon the world, comparatively speaking, beggars." + +The unhappy squire sank back in his chair; and, covering his face with +his hands, writhed and groaned in mental torture. + +"Your only course now," continued the merciless doctor, fixing his +snake-like eyes with lurking triumph on his victim, "is to write to your +grandson, confess all to him, and bring him home. He is an artist of +some note, they say. Most probably, therefore, he will be able to +support you--though it may seem strange to him first to work for his +living." + +"Work for his living!" shouted the squire, maddened by the words. "Louis +Oranmore work for his living! No, sir! he has not sunk so low as that +yet. If need be, he has the property of his grandmother Oranmore still +remaining." + +"The property of Mrs. Oranmore will not be his until her death, which +may not be this ten years yet. She is hard and penurious, and would +hardly give him a guinea to keep him from starving. Besides, would +_you_, Squire Erliston, live on the bounty of Mrs. Oranmore?" said the +doctor, with a sarcastic sneer. + +"No, sir; I would die of starvation first!" replied the squire, almost +fiercely. "But she, or some one else, might lend me the money to pay off +these accursed debts." + +"Not on such security as you would give, Squire Erliston," said the +doctor, calmly. "In fact, my dear sir, it is useless to think of +escaping your fate. Mount Sunset _must_ be given up to satisfy these +men!" + +"Oh, fool! fool! fool!--miserable old fool that I was, to allow myself +to be so wretchedly duped!" groaned the squire, in bitter anguish and +remorse. "Better for me had I never been born, than that such disgrace +should be mine in my old age! And Louis!--poor Louis! But I will never +see him again. If Mount Sunset be taken from me it will break my heart. +Every tree and picture about the old place is hallowed by the memory of +the past; and now that I should lose it through my own blind, miserable +folly! Oh! woe is me!" And, burying his great head in his hands, the +unhappy old man actually sobbed outright. + +Now had the hour of Dr. Wiseman's triumph come; now was the time to make +his daring proposal. Awhile he sat gloating over the agonies of his +victim; and then, in slow, deliberate tones, he said: + +"But in all this darkness, Squire Erliston, there still remains one ray +of light--_one_ solitary hope. What would you do if I were to offer to +cancel what you owe me, to pay off all your other debts, and free you +once more?" + +"Do!" exclaimed the squire, leaping in his excitement from the chair. +"_Do_, did you say? I tell you, Dr. Wiseman, there is nothing under +heaven I would _not_ do. But you--you only mock me by these words." + +"I do not, Squire Erliston. On one condition your debts shall every one +be paid, and Mount Sunset still remain yours." + +"And that condition! For Heaven's sake name it!" cried the squire, half +maddened by excitement. + +"Will you agree to it?" + +"Yes, though you should even ask my life!" + +"_That_ would be of little service to me," said the doctor, with a dry +smile. "No; I ask something much easier." + +"For Heaven's sake name it!" exclaimed the squire, wildly. + +"It is----" + +"What?" + +"_The hand of your ward, Gipsy Gower._" + +The squire stood like one transfixed with amazement, his eyes ready to +shoot from his head with surprise and consternation. And calmly before +him sat the doctor, his leathern countenance as expressionless as ever. + +"_What_ did you say?" said the squire, at length, as though doubting the +evidence of his senses. + +"My words were plainly spoken. I will free you from all your debts on +condition that you bestow upon me in marriage the hand of your young +ward, Gipsy Gower." + +"But--Lord bless me! my _dear_ sir, what in the world can _you_ want +with that chit of a child--that mad girl of the mountains--for a wife?" +exclaimed the squire, still aghast. + +"I _want_ her, let that suffice," said the doctor, with a frown. "Do you +agree to this proposal?" + +"Why, _I'm_ willing enough, but _she_--oh, Dr. Wiseman, the thing is +hopeless--she'd never consent in this world. She can be as obstinate as +a little mule when she likes. 'When a woman won't, she won't, and +there's the end on't,' as Solomon says." + +"You must make her." + +"Me! Why, she doesn't mind _me_----" + +"Squire Erliston," angrily broke in the doctor, "listen to me; either +you lose Mount Sunset and are publicly disgraced, or you will compel +this girl to marry me. Do you hear?" + +"There! there! don't be hasty! I'll do what I can. It won't be my fault +if she don't. But who'd ever think of _you_ wanting to marry little +Gipsy. Well, well, well, 'Wonders will never cease,' as Solomon says." + +"You can explain the matter to her--urge her by her gratitude, her love +for you, to consent," said the doctor; "try the sentimental +dodge--commands in this case will be worse than useless. Enlist the +women on your side; and above all things keep it a profound secret from +Archibald Rivers and Louis Oranmore. If none of your arguments move her, +I have still another in reserve that I know will clinch the business. +Give her no rest, day or night, until she consents; and if she complains +of cruelty, and all that, don't mind her. All girls are silly; and she, +being half-crazy, as she is, it seems to me the greatest favor you can +do her is to marry her to a man of sense and experience like myself. +Keep in mind what you lose by her refusal, and what you gain by her +consent. If she will not marry me, I will add my claims to those of your +other creditors, and no earthly power will be able to save you from +total ruin," said the doctor, with grim, iron determination. + +"She shall consent! she shall--she _must_!" said the squire, startled by +his last threat; "she shall be your wife, that is settled. I think I can +manage her, though it _will_ be a desperate struggle." + +"I shall force myself into her presence as little as possible," said the +doctor, calmly; "she has no particular love for me as yet, and it will +not help on my case. Mind, I shall expect you will use all your +energies, for our marriage must take place in a month at farthest," said +the doctor, as he arose, and, with a last expressive glance at his +victim, withdrew. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +FETTERS FOR THE EAGLET. + + + "I'm o'er young, I'm o'er young-- + I'm o'er young to marry yet. + I'm o'er young; 'twould be a sin + To take me from my mammy yet."--BURNS. + +"Gipsy, my dear, come here and sit beside me. I have something very +important to say to you," said the squire, as, half an hour later, he +caught sight of Gipsy, running, singing, down stairs. + +"Why, Guardy, what's the matter? You look as solemn as a coffin," said +Gipsy, coming in and sitting down on a stool at his side. + +"Gipsy, marriage is a solemn subject." + +"Shockingly solemn, Guardy. And who are you thinking of marrying?" + +"I'm thinking of marrying you----" + +"Marrying _me_? Oh, Jerusalem! Well, if aunty consents, I'm willing. La! +won't it be fun? Just fancy Louis calling me grandmother! Ha, ha! + +"Hush, you chatterbox--don't interrupt me. As I was saying, I have been +thinking of marrying you to some discreet, sensible man. You are too +wild and giddy, and you must get married and settle down." + +"Just so, Guardy; I've been thinking of it myself." + +"Now, there's Doctor Wiseman, for instance. He'd be an excellent husband +for you. He's a pleasant gentleman, possessing many sound, sterling +qualities, learned, and not bad looking----" + +"Exactly, Guardy--useful as well as ornamental. For instance, he'd do to +put in a corn-field to scare away the crows." + +"Don't be impertinent, Miss Gower! Doctor Wiseman is a serious man, +self-balanced and grave----" + +"Grave! I guess so! He always reminds me of death and his scythe +whenever I see him." + +"Silence, and listen to me! Now what objection could you possibly make +to Doctor Wiseman as a husband?" + +"As a husband? Ha, ha, ha! Why, Guardy, you don't mean to say that that +yellow-skinned, spindle-shanked, dwarfed old ogre, with one leg in the +grave, and the other over the fence, is thinking of marrying--do you?" + +"Hold your tongue, or you'll lose it, you little wretch! Doctor Wiseman +is no old ogre, but a dark-complexioned----" + +"Saffron, saffron, Guardy! Tell the truth, now, and shame your master. +Isn't it saffron?" + +"I'll brain you if you don't stop! A man can't get in a word edgeways +with you. Dr. Wiseman, minx, has done you the honor to propose for your +hand. I have consented, and----" + +But the squire broke off suddenly, in a towering rage--for Gipsy, after +an incredulous stare, burst into a shout of laughter that made the house +ring. Pressing her hands to her sides, she laughed until the tears ran +down her cheeks; and, at last, unable to stop, she rolled off her seat +on to the floor, and tumbled over and over in a perfect convulsion. + +"Oh, you little aggravation! _Will_ you stop?" cried the squire, seizing +her by the shoulder, and shaking her until she was breathless. + +"Oh, Guardy, that's too good! Marry me? Oh, I declare, I'll split my +sides!" exclaimed Gipsy, going into another fit of laughter, as she +essayed in vain to rise. + +"Gipsy Gower! Cease your folly for a moment, and rise up and listen to +me," said the squire, so sternly that Gipsy wiped the tears from her +eyes, and pressing her hands to her sides, resumed her seat. + +"Gipsy, I do not wish you to consider me a boaster, but you know I have +done a great deal for you, brought you up, educated you, and intended +leaving you a fortune at my death----" + +"Thank you, Guardy; couldn't you let me have part of it now?" + +"Silence, I tell you! Gipsy, this is what I _intended_ doing; but, +child, I have become involved in debt. Mount Sunset will be taken from +me, and you, and Louis, and the rest of us will be beggars." + +Up flew Gipsy's eyebrows, open flew her eyes, and down dropped her chin, +in unfeigned amazement. + +"Yes," continued the squire, "you may stare, but it's true. And now, +Gipsy, since you told me you were not ungrateful--now is the time to +prove it, by saving me and all your friends from ruin." + +"_I_ save you from ruin?" said Gipsy, staring with all her eyes, and +wondering if "Guardy" was wandering in his mind. + +"Yes, _you_. As I told you, I am involved in debt, which it is utterly +impossible for me to pay. Now, Doctor Wiseman, who has fallen in love +with my fairy, has offered to pay my debts if you will marry him. Don't +laugh, _don't_, as I see you are going to do--this is no time for +laughter, Gipsy." + +"Oh, but Guardy, that's too funny! The idea of me, a little girl of +seventeen, marrying a man of sixty--'specially such a man as Spider +Wiseman! Oh, Guardy, it's the best joke of the season!" cried Gipsy, +bursting into another immoderate fit of laughter. + +"Ungrateful, hard-hearted girl!" said the squire, with tears actually in +his stormy old eyes; "this is your return for all I have done for you! +You, the only living being who can save those who have been your best +friends from being turned out of the old homestead, instead of rejoicing +in being able to do it, you only laugh at him in scorn, you--" the +squire broke down fairly here. + +Never had the elf seen the usually violent old man so moved. A pang shot +through her heart for her levity; and the next moment her arms were +round his neck, and her white handkerchief wiping away the tears of +which he was ashamed. + +"Dear--_dear_ Guardy, I'm so sorry! I never thought you felt so bad +about it. I'll do anything in the world to help you; I'm not +ungrateful. What do you want me to do, Guardy?" + +"To save me, by marrying Doctor Wiseman, my dear." + +"Oh, Guardy, oh, _Guardy_! You surely weren't serious in proposing +_that_?" exclaimed Gipsy, really astonished. + +"Serious? Alas! I was never so serious before in my life. You will do +this, Gipsy?" + +"Oh, Guardy! Marry _him_? Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Gipsy, with a +violent shudder. + +"Then you will let us all be turned out from the old roof-tree--out into +the world to die; for, Gipsy, if the old place is taken from me, I +should break my heart through grief!" + +"Oh, Guardy, it won't be so bad as that! Surely _something_ can be done? +How much do you owe?" + +"More than I dare mention. Child, nothing can be done to save us unless +you consent to this marriage." + +"Oh! that is too horrible even to think of. Can you not write to Louis? +I'm sure he could do something to save us." + +"No, he could do nothing; and he must never know it at all. Even +supposing he could, before a letter could reach him we would be publicly +disgraced--I should be branded as a rogue, and turned out of doors to +die. No, Gipsy, unless you consent, before the week is out, to become +the bride of Doctor Wiseman, all hope will be over. And though +afterward, by some hitherto unheard-of miracle, the property should be +restored to us, I should not live to see it; for if you persist in +refusing, Gipsy, I will die by my own hand, sooner than live to be +branded like a felon. And Lizzie and Mrs. Gower, who love you so well, +how do you think they could live, knowing that all had been lost through +your ingratitude! Louis, too, your foster-brother, how will he look on +the girl whose obstinacy will make him a beggar? Consent and all will be +well, the gratitude and love of an old man will bless you through life; +_refuse_, and my death will be on your soul, haunting you through all +your cheerless, unblessed life." + +With all the eloquence and passion of intense selfishness he spoke, +while each word burned into the heart and soul of his listener. She was +pacing up and down the floor, half-maddened by his words, while the word +_ingratitude_ seemed dancing in living letters of fire before her. + +"Oh! what shall I do? What shall I do?" she cried, wringing her hands +wildly. + +"Let me advise you; I am older and have had experience, and a claim on +your obedience. Marry Doctor Wiseman; he is, I know, somewhat older than +you, but you _need_ a man of age and wisdom. He is rich, and loves you; +and with him, conscious that you have done your duty, you will be +blessed by God, and be happy." + +"Happy!" she broke in, scornfully, "and with him! Happy!" + +"It is the first favor I ever asked of you, Gipsy, and I know you will +not refuse. No one must know of it, not one, save Lizzie and Mrs. Gower. +You must not breathe it to a living soul, save them." + +"Guardy, there is some guilt or mystery connected with this debt. What +is it?" + +"I cannot tell you now, child; when you have obeyed me, I will. Come, +Doctor Wiseman will be here for your answer to-morrow. Shall I tell him +you have consented?" + +"Oh! no, no! no, no! Good heavens!" she cried, shudderingly. + +"Gipsy! Gipsy! consent. I implore you, by all you hold dear on earth, +and sacred in heaven, to consent!" he said, with wild vehemence. + +"Oh! I cannot! I cannot! I _cannot_! Oh, Guardy, do not urge me to this +living death," she cried passionately. + +"Then you can see me die, child. This, then, is your gratitude!" he +said, bitterly. + +"Oh, Guardy, you will not die! I will work for you--yes, I will toil +night and day, and work my fingers to the bone, if need be. I can work +more than you would think." + +"It would be useless, worse than useless. I should not live to make you +work for me. Refuse, if you will, and go through life with the death of +a fellow-creature on your soul." + +"Oh! I wish I had never been born," said Gipsy, wringing her pale +fingers in anguish. + +"Consent! consent! Gipsy, for my sake! For the sake of the old man who +loves you!" + +She did not reply; she was pacing up and down the room like one +half-crazed, with wild, excited eyes, and flushed cheeks. + +"You do not speak. 'Silence gives consent,' as Solomon says," said the +squire, the ruling habit still "strong in death." + +"Let me think! You must give me time, Guardy! I will go to my room now, +and to-morrow you shall have my answer." + +"Go, then; I know it will be favorable. I dare not think otherwise. +To-morrow morning I will know." + +"Yes, to-morrow," said Gipsy, as she left the room and fled wildly up +stairs. + +"To-morrow," said the old sinner, looking after her. "And what will that +answer be? 'Who can tell what a day may bring forth?' as Solomon says." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +THE BIRD CAGED. + + + "Lay on him the curse of a withered heart, + The curse of a sleepless eye; + Till he wish and pray that his life would part, + Nor yet find leave to die."--SCOTT. + +Morning came. The squire sat in the breakfast parlor, impatiently +waiting for the coming of Gipsy. He waited in vain. The moments flew on; +still she came not. + +Losing patience at last, he caught the bell-rope and rang a furious +peal. Five minutes after the black face and woolly head of Totty +appeared in the doorway. + +"Totty, where's your young mistress?" + +"Here!" answered the voice of Gipsy herself, as she stood, bright and +smiling, behind Totty. + +Somehow, that smile alarmed the old man, and he began trembling for the +decision he had so anxiously been expecting. + +"Well, come in. Clear out, Totty. Now, Gipsy, your decision." + +"Now, Guardy, wait until after breakfast. How is any one to form an +opinion on an empty stomach, I'd like to know? There, don't get into a +fidget about it, as I see you're going to do, because it's no use." + +"But, Gipsy, tell me--will it be favorable?" + +"That depends upon circumstances. If I have a good appetite for my +breakfast I may probably be in good-humor enough to say yes to +everything you propose; if not, I tremble for you, Guardy. Visions of +blunt pen-knives and bulletless pistols flash in 'awful array' before my +mind's eye. Shall I ring the bell for Aunty Gower?" + +"I suppose so," growled the old man; "you are as contrary as Balaam's +ass." + +"Guardy, look out! Don't compare me to any of your ancestors." + +At this moment Mrs. Gower entered, followed by Lizzie, now an invalid, +wrapped up in numberless shawls, until she resembled a mummy. + +The squire had informed them both, the night before, how matters stood; +and they glanced anxiously at Gipsy, as they entered, to read, if +possible, her decision in her countenance. Nothing could they guess from +that little dark, sparkling face, as vivacious and merry as ever. + +When breakfast was over Mrs. Gower and Mrs. Oranmore quitted the room, +leaving Gipsy alone with the squire. + +"Now, Gipsy, now," he exclaimed, impatiently. + +"Guardy," said Gipsy, earnestly, "all last night I lay awake, trying to +find out where my path of duty lay; and, Guardy, I have come to the +conclusion that I cannot add to your sin, if you have committed one, by +a still greater crime. I cannot perjure myself, before God's holy altar, +even to save you. Guardy, I always loathed and detested this man--this +Dr. Wiseman; and now I would sooner die by slow torture than be his +wife. Your threat of suicide I know you will not fulfill--'twas but idle +words. But even had you been serious, it would be all the same; for +sooner than marry that man I would plunge a dagger into my own heart +and let out my life's blood. I do not speak hastily, for I have done +that which I seldom do--thought before I spoke. If we really, as you +say, become poor, I am willing to leave my wild, free life, my horses, +hounds, and the 'merry greenwood,' to become a toiling kitchen brownie +for your sake. Do not interrupt me, Guardy; nothing you can say can +change my purpose. I am not ungrateful, but I cannot commit a crime in +the face of high heaven, even for the sake of those I love best. Tell my +decision to Dr. Wiseman. And now, Guardy, this subject must be forever +dropped between us, for you have heard my ultimatum." + +And without waiting for the words that were ready to burst forth, she +arose, bent her graceful little head, and walked out of the room. + +As she went up-stairs, on her way to her own room, she passed Lizzie's +chamber. Mrs. Oranmore caught sight of her through the half-opened door, +and called her. + +"Gipsy, my love, come in here." + +Gipsy went in. It was a pleasant, cheerful room, with bright pictures on +the walls, and rich crimson damask hangings in the window. Lizzie +Oranmore, as she lies on her lounge, enveloped in a large, soft shawl, +is not much like the Lizzie, the bright little coquette, we once knew. A +pale, faded creature she is now, with sallow cheeks, and thin, pinched +face. + +"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Oranmore, anxiously, "papa has mentioned this +shocking affair to me. What has been your answer to Dr. Wiseman's +proposal?" + +"Oh, aunty, what could it be but _no_? You didn't suppose I'd marry that +ugly old daddy-long-legs, did you? Why, aunty, when I get married--which +I never will if I can help it--for I would be ever free--it must be to +a lord, duke, or a Sir Harry, or something above the common. Just fancy +such a little bit of a thing like me being tied for life to a detestable +old Bluebeard like Spider. Not I, indeed!" said the elf, as she danced +around the room and gayly sang: + + "An old man, an old man, will never do for me, + For May and December can never agree." + +"But Gipsy, my dear, do you not know that we are to be turned out, if +you refuse?" said Lizzie, in blank dismay. + +"Well, let us be turned out, then. I will be turned out, but I won't +marry that old death's-head. I'm young and smart, and able to earn my +own living, thank goodness!" + +"Oh, ungrateful girl, will you see me die? For, Gipsy, if I am deprived +now, in my illness, of the comforts to which I have always been +accustomed, I shall die." + +"Oh, no, you won't, aunty. I don't think that things are as bad as +Guardy makes them appear; and, even if they were, Dr. Wiseman, old +wretch as he is, would let you remain." + +"No, he would not, child; you don't know the revengeful disposition of +that man. Oh, Gipsy, by the memory of all we have done for you, I +beseech you to consent!" + +"Aunty, aunty, I cannot; it is too dreadful even to think about. Oh, +aunty, I cannot tell you how I loathe, abhor, and detest that hideous +old sinner!" + +"Gipsy, that is wrong--that is sinful. Dr. Wiseman is a highly +respectable gentleman--rather old for you, it is true--but of what +difference is a few years? He is rich, and loves you well enough to +gratify your every wish. What more would you have?" + +"_Happiness_, aunty. I should be utterly miserable with him." + +"Nonsense, child, you only think so. It is not as if you were older, and +loved somebody else. People often marry those they don't care about, and +grow quite fond of them after a time. Now, I shouldn't be surprised if +you grew quite fond of Dr. Wiseman by and by." + +Gipsy laughed her own merry laugh again as she heard Lizzie's words. + +"Oh, Gipsy, you thoughtless creature! is this your answer to my +petition?" said Lizzie, putting her handkerchief to her eyes. "Leave me, +then. I will not long survive your ingratitude; but, mark me, your name +will become a by-word, far and near, and descend to posterity branded +with the disgrace of your ungrateful conduct. Go--leave me! Why should +you stay to witness the misery you have caused?" + +Poor Gipsy! how these reproaches stung her. She started to her feet, and +began pacing the floor rapidly, crying wildly: + +"Oh, Heaven help me! I know not what to do! I wish I were dead, sooner +than be branded thus as an ingrate!" + +Lizzie's sobs alone broke the stillness of the room. At last, unable to +endure them longer, she rushed out and sought refuge in her own chamber. +As she entered she saw Mrs. Gower seated by the window--a look of +trouble and sadness on her usually happy, good-natured face. + +"Oh! aunty, what _shall_ I do? Oh! aunty, I am going crazy, I think!" +cried Gipsy, distressedly, half maddened by the sight of Lizzie's tears. + +"My dear, it is very plain what you must do. You must marry Dr. +Wiseman," said Mrs. Gower, gravely. + +"Oh! aunty, have you turned against me, too? Then I have no friend in +the wide world! Oh! I wish--I _wish_ I had never been born!" + +"My love, don't talk in that way; it is not only very foolish, but very +sinful. Dr. Wiseman is certainly not the man I would wish to see you +married to; but, you perceive, there is no alternative. Gipsy, I am +getting old, so is the squire; Mrs. Oranmore is ill, and I do not think +she will live long. Will you, therefore, allow the old man and +woman--who love you above all human beings--and a poor, weak invalid, to +be turned upon the charity of the cold world to die? Gipsy, you know if +we could save you from misery, we would coin our very hearts' blood to +do it." + +"And, oh, aunt! could there be greater misery for me than that to which +you are urging me?" + +"You talk like the thoughtless girl you are, Gipsy. How often, for +wealth or social position merely, or to raise their friends from want, +do young girls marry old men! Yet, _you_ refuse to save us from worse +than want, from disgrace and death--yes, _death_! I know what I am +saying, Gipsy--you obstinately refuse. Gipsy, my child, for my sake do +not become such a monster of ingratitude, but consent." + +"Oh, aunty! leave me. I feel as if I were going mad! Every one in the +world seems to have turned against me--even _you_! Oh, aunty, dear, good +aunty! don't talk to me any more; my very brain seems on fire." + +"Yes; your cheeks are burning, and your eyes are like fire--you are ill +and feverish, my poor little fairy. Lie down, and let me bathe your +head." + +"No, no, aunty, don't mind. Oh! what matter is it whether I am ill or +not? If it wasn't for you, and Guardy, and all the rest, I feel as if I +should like to lie down and die!" + +"My own little darling, you must not talk of dying; every one has +trouble in this world, and you cannot expect to escape!" + +"Yes; I know, I know! Hitherto, life has been to me a fairy dream; and +now this terrible awakening to reality! Life seemed to me one long, +golden summer day; and now--and now----" + +"You are excited, love; lie down, and try to sleep--you talk too much." + +"Yes, I know; I always did talk too much; but I do not think I will ever +talk much again. Oh, aunty! I have heard of the heart-ache, but I never +knew what it was before!" + +"My love, you must not feel this so deeply. How wild your eyes are! and +your hands are burning hot! Do lie down, and try to rest." + +"Rest! rest! Shall I ever find rest again?" + +"Of course you will, my dear. Now what shall I tell the squire is your +decision about this? I promised him to talk to you about it." + +"Oh, aunty, don't--_don't_! Leave me alone, and let me think--I cannot +talk to you now!" + +"Shall I bring you up ice for your head, my dear?" + +"No, no; you have already brought ice for my heart, aunty--that is +enough." + +"You talk wildly, love; I am afraid your mind is disordered." + +"Don't mind my talk, dear aunty, I always was a crazy, elfish +changeling, without a heart, you know. Nobody minds what I say. Only +leave me now; I will be better by and by." + +With a sigh Mrs. Gower left the room. It was strange that, loving her +poor little fay as she did, she should urge her to this wretched +marriage; but the squire had talked and persuaded her until he brought +her to see the matter with his eyes. And poor Gipsy was left alone to +pace up and down the room like one deranged, wringing her hands, while +her cheeks and eyes burned with the fire of fever. + +"Oh, if Archie would only come!" was the wild cry of her aching heart, +as she walked restlessly to and fro. + +But Archie was away; she knew not even his present address, and she was +left to battle against the dark decree of fate alone. + +"I will seek Dr. Wiseman; I will beg, I will implore him to spare me, +and those who would have me make this fatal sacrifice. Surely his heart +is not made of stone; he cannot resist my prayers!" + +So, waiting in her room until she saw him ride up to the Hall, she +descended the stairs and entered the parlor, where he and the squire sat +in close conversation together, and formally desired the honor of a +private interview. + +He arose, and, bowing, followed her into the drawing-room. Motioning him +to a seat she stood before him, her little form drawn up to its full +height, her defiant, dark eyes fixed on his repulsive face with +undisguised loathing. + +"Dr. Wiseman," she began, "I have heard of this proposal which you have +honored me by making. Believe me, I fully appreciate the honor you have +done me"--and her beautiful lip curled scornfully--"even while I must +decline it. A silly little girl like me is unworthy to be raised to the +dignity of the wife of so distinguished a gentleman as Dr. Wiseman!" + +The doctor acknowledged the compliment by a grave bow, while Gipsy +continued: + +"My guardian has informed me that, unless I consent to this union, he +will lose Mount Sunset, be reduced to poverty, and, consequently, die, +he says. You, it seems, will prevent this, if I marry you. Now, Dr. +Wiseman, knowing this marriage is not agreeable to me, I feel that you +will withdraw your claim to my hand, and still prevent Guardy from being +reduced to poverty!" + +"Miss Gower, I regret to say I cannot do so. Unless you become my wife, +I shall be obliged to let the law take its course; and all that Squire +Erliston has told you will prove true." + +"Dr. Wiseman, you will not be so cruel? I beg--I implore you to prevent +this catastrophe!" + +"I will, with pleasure, Miss Gower, if you will be my wife." + +"That I can never be, Dr. Wiseman! I would not, to save my head from the +block, consent to such a thing! What in the name of heaven can make a +man of _your_ age wish to marry a silly little thing like me?" + +"_Love_, my pretty mountain sprite," replied the doctor, with a grim +smile--"_love_! Years do not freeze the blood, nor still the heart of +man!" + +"Then, sir, if you love me, renounce all claim upon my hand, and save my +guardian from impending ruin!" + +"That I can never do!" + +"Be it so, then, Dr. Wiseman. To you I will plead no more. Let us be +turned out; I would die a death of lingering starvation sooner than wed +with a cold-blooded monster like you!" exclaimed Gipsy, her old fiery +spirit flashing from her eyes and radiating her face. + +"And will you see those you love die, too?" + +"Yes, even so; sooner than realize the living tomb of a marriage with +you!" + +"Ha! ha! ha! All very fine and affectionate, my dear; yet, marry me you +_shall_!" + +"Marry you? Not if I die for it!" flashed Gipsy, with blazing eyes. + +"That we shall see presently. I think I have an argument in reserve +that will bend your high spirit. You love Archie Rivers?" + +"That is no business of yours, Dr. Wiseman!" + +"No; no farther than that I am glad of it. Now, Gipsy Gower, I swear by +all the heavens contain, unless you marry me, _he shall die on the +scaffold_!" + +"_What?_" gasped Gipsy, appalled by his low, fearful tone, even more +than by his words. + +"I say there is but one alternative; marry me, or see him die on the +scaffold!" + +"Ha! ha! that's excellent. Are you going to hang him, Dr. Wiseman?" +mocked Gipsy. + +"Laugh, girl; but beware! It is in my power to bring his head to the +halter!" + +"Where, if everybody had their dues, yours would have been long ago." + +"Take care, madam; don't carry your taunts too far--even my forbearance +has its limits!" + +"That's more than can be said of your manners!" + +The doctor's sallow visage blanched with anger; but, subduing his wrath, +he said: + +"I can accuse him of the murder of young Henry Danvers, who was so +mysteriously killed. There is circumstantial evidence against him strong +enough to convict him in any court of justice in the world!" + +"Archie kill Danvers? Why, you horrid old monster, you! Ain't you afraid +of the fate of Ananias and his better half, who never told half such a +lie in their lives?" + +"Lie or not, girl, it can be proved that he killed him. Listen, now," +said the doctor, while his repulsive face lighted up with a look of +fiendish exultation. "Archibald Rivers loved _you_--that was plain to +every one. This Danvers came along and fell in love with you, too--that, +likewise, can be duly proved. Your preference for the young sailor was +observable from the first. Rivers was jealous, and I know many who can +prove he often uttered threats of future vengeance against the +midshipman. On the night of the _murder_, Archie was observed riding +from here, in a violent rage. Half an hour afterward the sailor went for +a ride over the hills. I can _swear_ that Archie Rivers followed him. I +know he was not at home until late. Most probably, therefore, he +followed Danvers, and murdered him treacherously. Jealousy will make a +man do almost anything. In a court of justice, many more things than +this can be proved; and if he dies on the scaffold, his blood will be +upon your head." + +Gipsy stood listening to his terrible words with blanched face, livid +lips, and horror-stricken eyes. For a moment he thought she would faint. +The very power of life seemed stricken from her heart; but, by a +powerful effort, she aroused herself from the deadly faintness creeping +over her, and exclaimed, in a voice low with unspeakable horror: + +"Fiend--demon incarnate! would you perjure your own soul! Would you +become the murderer of your own nephew?" + +"Murderer, forsooth! Is that what you call legal justice?" + +"It would not be legal justice! Doctor Wiseman, I tell you, if you say +Archie Rivers killed Danvers, you lie! Yes, meanest of vile wretches, I +tell you, you lie!" + +He leaped to his feet, glaring with rage, as though he would spring upon +her, and rend her limb from limb. Before him she stood, her little form +drawn up to its full height, defiant and daring--her dark face glaring +with scorn and hatred. For a moment they stood thus--he quivering with +impotent rage--she, proud, defying, and fearless. Then, sinking into +his seat, he said, with stern calmness: + +"No--I will restrain myself; but, daring girl, listen to me. As sure as +yonder heaven is above us, if you refuse, so surely shall Squire +Erliston and all belonging to him be turned from their home--to die, if +they will; and Archibald Rivers shall perish by the hand of the hangman, +scorned and hated by all, and knowing that you, for whom he would have +given his life, have brought him to the scaffold. Gipsy Gower, his blood +will cry for vengeance from the earth against you!" + +He ceased. There was a wild, thrilling, intense solemnity in his tone, +that made the blood curdle. One look at his fiendish face would have +made you think Satan himself was before you. + +And Gipsy! She had dropped, as if suddenly stricken by an unseen hand, +to the floor; her face changed to the ghastly hue of death, the light +dying out in her eyes: her very life seemed passing away from the blue, +quivering lips, from which no sound came; a thousand ages of suffering +seemed concentrated in that one single moment of intense anguish. + +But no spark of pity entered the heart that exulted in her agony. No; a +demoniacal joy flashed from his snake-like eyes as he beheld that free, +wild, untamed spirit broken at last, and lying in anguish at his feet. + +"This struggle is the last. Now she will yield," was his thought, as he +watched her. + +"Gipsy!" he called. + +She writhed at the sound of his voice. + +"Gipsy!" he called again. + +This time she looked up, lifting a face so like that of death that he +started back involuntarily. + +"What?" she asked, in a low, hollow voice of despair. + +"Do you consent?" + +She arose, and walked over until she stood before him. Appalled by her +look, he arose in alarm and drew back. + +"Consent!" she repeated, fixing her wild eyes on his frightened face; +"yes, I consent to the living death of a marriage with you. And, Dr. +Wiseman, may my curse and the curse of Heaven cling to you like a +garment of fire, now and forevermore, burning your miserable soul like a +flame in this life, and consigning you to everlasting perdition in the +next! May every torture and suffering that man can know follow the +wronged orphan's curse! In this life I will be your deadliest enemy, and +in the next I will bear witness against you at the throne of God! To +your very grave, and beyond, my undying hatred and revenge for the wrong +you have done me shall be yours; and now I wish you joy of your bride!" + +She passed from the room like a spirit; and Dr. Wiseman, terrified and +appalled, sank into a chair, with the vision of that death-like face, +with its blazing eyes and wild, maniac words and wilder stare, haunting +him until he shuddered with superstitious terror. + +"What a wife I will have!" he muttered; "a perfect little fiend. Mount +Sunset will be dearly enough purchased with that young tempest for its +mistress. The fiery spirit of the old Oranmores runs in her +veins--that's certain. And now, as there is nothing like striking the +iron while it's hot, I'll go and report my success to that old dotard, +the squire, and have the wedding-day fixed as soon as possible." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +MAY AND DECEMBER. + + + "She looked to the river--looked to the hill-- + And thought on the spirit's prophecy; + Then broke the silence stern and still: + 'Not you, but Fate, has vanquished me.'" + LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. + +"Celeste, Celeste! do not leave me. Oh! all the world has left me, and +will you go, too? This heart--this restless, beating heart--will it +never stop aching? Oh, Celeste! once I thought I had no heart; but by +this dull, aching pain where it should be, I know I must have had one +some time. Stay with me, Celeste. You are the only one in the world left +for me to love now." + +Gipsy--small, fair and fragile, with her little wan face and unnaturally +lustrous eyes--lay moaning restlessly on her low couch, like some +tempest-tossed soul quivering between life and death. Like an angel of +light, by her side knelt Celeste, with her fair, pitying face and her +soft blue eyes, from which the tears fell on the small brown fingers +that tightly clasped hers. + +"Dear Gipsy, I will not leave you; but you know you must get up and +dress soon." + +"Oh, yes; but not yet. It is so nice to lie here, and have you beside +me. I am so tired, Celeste--I have never rested since I made that +promise. It seems as if ever since I had been walking and walking on +through the dark, unable to stop, with such an aching here." + +And she pressed her hand to the poor quivering heart that was +fluttering to escape from the heavy chain fate was drawing tighter and +tighter around it. + +"What can I do for you, Gipsy?" said Celeste, stooping and kissing her +pale lips, while two pitying drops fell from her eyes on the poor little +face below her. + +"Don't cry for me, Celeste. I never wept for myself yet. Sing for me, +dear friend, the 'Evening Hymn' we used to sing at the Sisters' school, +long ago." + +Forcing back her tears, Celeste sang, in a voice low and sweet as liquid +music: + + "Ave sanctissima! + We lift our souls to thee-- + Ora pro nobis, + Bright star of the sea! + Watch us while shadows lie + Far o'er the waters spread; + Hear the heart's lonely sigh-- + Thine, too, hath bled!" + +Gipsy listened, with her eyes closed, an expression of peace and rest +falling on her dark, restless face, until Celeste ceased. + +"Oh, Celeste, I always feel so much better and happier when you are with +me--not half so much of a heartless imp as at other times," said Gipsy, +opening her eyes. "I wish I could go and live with you and Miss Hagar at +Valley Cottage, or enter a convent, or anywhere, to be at peace. While +you sang I almost fancied myself back again at school, listening to +those dear, kind sisters singing that beautiful 'Evening Hymn.'" + +She paused, and murmured, dreamily: + + "Watch us while shadows lie + Far o'er the waters spread; + Hear the heart's lonely sigh-- + Thine, too, hath bled!" + +"Dear Gipsy, do not be so sad. Our Heavenly Father, perhaps, has but +sent you this trial to purify your heart and make it His own. In the +time of youth and happiness we are apt ungratefully to forget the Author +of all good gifts, and yield the heart that should be His to idols of +clay. But in the days of sorrow and suffering we stretch out our arms to +Him; and He, forgetting the past, takes us to his bosom. And, dearest +Gipsy, shall we shrink from treading through trials and sufferings in +the steps of the sinless Son of God, to that home of rest and peace that +He died to gain for us?" + +Her beautiful face was transfigured, her eyes radiant, her lips glowing +with the fervor of the deep devotion with which she spoke. + +"I cannot feel as you do, Celeste," said Gipsy, turning restlessly. "I +feel like one without a light, groping my way in the dark--like one who +is blind, hastening to my own doom. I cannot look up; I can see into the +dark grave, but no farther." + +"Light will come yet, dear friend. Every cloud has its silver lining." + +"Never for me. But, hark! What is that?" + +Celeste arose, and went to the window. + +"It is the carriages bringing more people. The parlors below are full. +You must rise, and dress for your bridal, Gipsy." + +"Would to heaven it were for my burial! I am _so_ tired, Celeste. _Must_ +I get up?" + +"Yes, dear Gipsy; they are waiting for you. I will dress you myself," +said Celeste, as Gipsy, pale, wan, and spirituelle, arose from her +couch, her little, slight figure smaller and slighter than ever. + +Rapidly moved the nimble fingers of Celeste. The dancing dark locks fell +in short, shining curls around the superb little head, making the pale +face of the bride look paler still by contrast. Then Celeste went into +her wardrobe and brought forth the jewels, the white vail, the orange +blossoms, and the rich robes of white brocade, frosted with seed pearls, +and laid them on the bed. + +"What is that white dress for?" demanded Gipsy, abruptly, looking up +from a reverie into which she had fallen. + +"For you to wear, of course," replied Celeste, astonished at the +question. + +"A white dress for me! Ha! ha! ha!" she said, with a wild laugh. "True, +I forgot--when the ancients were about to sacrifice a victim, they robed +her in white and crowned her with flowers. But I will differ from all +other victims, and wear a more suitable color. _This_ shall be my +wedding-dress," said Gipsy, leaving the room, and returning with a dress +of _black_ lace. + +Celeste shrank back from its ominous hue with something like a shudder. + +"Oh, not in black! Oh, Gipsy! any other color but black for your +wedding. Think how you will shock every one," said Celeste, imploringly. + +"Shock them! Why, Celeste, I've shocked them so continually ever since I +was a year old, that when I cease to shock them they won't know Gipsy +Gower. And that reminds me that after to-day I will be 'Mad Gipsy Gower' +no longer, but Mrs. Doctor Nicholas Wiseman. Ha! ha! ha! Wiseman! how +appropriate the name will be! Oh! _won't_ I lead him a life--_won't_ I +make him wish he had never been born--_won't_ I teach him what it is to +drive a girl to desperation? He thinks because I am a little thing he +can hold me up with one hand--and, by the way, Celeste, his hands always +remind me of a lobster's claw stuck into a pump-handle--that he can do +what he pleases with me. We'll see! Hook my dress, Celeste. It's a pity +to keep my Adonis waiting, and disappoint all these good people who +have come to see the fun." + +"Dear Gipsy, do not look and talk so wildly. And pray, take off that +black dress, and wear any other color you wish. People _will_ talk so, +you know." + +"Let 'em talk then, my dear. They'll only say it's one of Gipsy's whims. +Besides, it will shock Spider, which is just what I want. He'll get a +few more shocks before I have done with him, I rather think. Hook my +dress, Celeste." + +With a sigh at the elf's perversity, Celeste obeyed; and with a sad +face, watched the eccentric little bride shake out the folds of her +black robe, and fasten a dark crimson belt around her waist. + +"Now, if I had a few poppies or marigolds to fasten in my hair, I'd look +bewitching; as I haven't, these must do." And with a high, ringing +laugh, she twined a dark, purplish passion-flower amid her shining +curls. "Now for my rouge. I must look blooming, you know--happy brides +always should. Then it will save me the trouble of blushing, which is +something I never was guilty of in my life. No, never mind those pearls, +Celeste; I fear Dr. Wiseman might find them brighter than my eye, which +would not do by 'no manner of means.' There! I'm ready. Who ever saw so +bewildering a bride?" + +She turned from the mirror, and stood before Celeste, her eyes shining +like stars, streaming with an unnaturally blazing light, the pallor of +her face hidden by the rouge, the dark passion-flower drooping amid her +curls, fit emblem of herself. There was an airy, floating lightness +about her, as if she scarcely felt the ground she walked on--a fire and +wildness in her large, dark eyes that made Celeste's heart ache for her. +Very beautiful she looked, with her dark, oriental face, shaded by its +sable locks, the rich, dark dress falling with classic elegance from +her round, little waist. She looked, as she stood, bright, mocking, +defiant, scornful--more like some fairy changeling--some fay of the +moonlight--than a living creature, with a woman's heart. And yet, under +that daring, bright exterior, a wild, anguished heart lay crushed and +quivering, shedding tears of blood, that leaped to the eyes to be +changed to sparks of fire. + +"Let us go down," said Celeste, with a sigh. + +"Yes, let us go. Do you know, Celeste, I read once of a man whom the +Indians were going to burn to death at the stake, and who began cursing +them when they led him there for making him wait so long. Now I feel +just like that man; since I _am_ to be doomed to the stake--why, the +sooner the torture is over the better." + +She looked so beautiful, so bewitching, yet so mocking and unreal, so +like a spirit of air, as she spoke, that, almost expecting to see her +vanish from her sight, Celeste caught her in her arms, and gazed upon +her with pitying, yearning, love-lit eyes, from which the tears were +fast falling. + +"Don't cry for me, Celeste; you make me feel more like an imp than ever. +I really think I must be a family relation of the goblin page we read +about in the 'Lay of the Last Minstrel,' for I feel like doing as he +did, throwing up my arms, and crying, 'Lost!' I'm sure that goblin page +would have made his fortune in a circus, since his ordinary mode of +walking consisted of leaps of fifty feet high or so. Crying still, +Celeste! Why, I thought I'd make you laugh. Now, Celeste, if you don't +dry your eyes, I'll go right up to where Aunty Gower keeps prussic acid +for the rats, and commit suicide right off the reel. I've felt like +doing it all the time lately, but never so much so as when I see you +crying for me. Why, Celeste, I never was worth one tear from those blue +eyes, body and bones. What's the use of anybody's grieving for a +little, mad, hare-brained thing like me? _I'll_ do well enough; I'll be +perfectly happy--see if I don't! It will be such glorious fun, you know, +driving Spider mad! And, oh, _won't_ I dose him! Tra! la, la, la, la, +la!" and Gipsy waltzed airily around the room. + +At this moment there came a knock at the door. Celeste opened it, and +Mrs. Gower, in the well-preserved silk and lace cap she had worn years +before to Lizzie Oranmore's wedding, stood in the doorway. + +"Oh, Celeste! why don't you hurry? Where is Gipsy? Oh, good gracious, +child! not dressed yet? What on earth have you been doing? The people +have been waiting these two hours, almost, in the parlors! Do hurry, for +mercy sake, and dress!" + +"Why, aunty, I _am_ dressed. Don't you see I am all ready to become Mrs. +Wiseman?" + +"But my _dear_ child, that black dress----" + +"This black dress will do very well--suits my complexion best, which is +rather of the mulatto order than otherwise; and it's a pity if a blessed +bride can't wear what she likes without such a fuss being made about it. +Now, aunty, don't begin to lecture--it'll only be a waste of powder and +a loss of time; and I'm impatient to arrive at the place of execution." + +Mrs. Gower sank horrified into a chair, and gazed with a look of despair +into the mocking, defiant eyes of the elfin bride. + +"Oh, Gipsy! what ever will the people say? In a _black dress_! Good +heavens! Why, you'll look more like the chief mourner at a funeral than +a bride! And what will Dr. Wiseman say?" + +"Oh, don't, aunty! I hope he'll get into a passion, and blow me and +everybody else up when he sees it!" cried Gipsy, clapping her hands with +delight at the idea. + +"Oh, dear! oh, dear! did any one ever know such a strange girl? Just to +think of throwing aside that beautiful dress that your guardian paid a +small fortune for, for that common black lace thing, the worst dress you +have!" + +"Aunty--see here!--you may have this 'beautiful dress' when you get +married. You're young, and good-looking, and substantial, too, and I +shouldn't wonder if you had a proposal one of these days. With a little +letting down in the skirt, and a little letting out in the waist----" + +"Gipsy, hush! How can you go on with such nonsense at such a time? Miss +Pearl, can you not induce her to take off that horrid black dress?" + +"I think you had better let her wear it, madam. Miss Gower will not be +persuaded." + +"Well, since it must be so, then come. Luckily, everybody knows what an +odd, flighty thing Gipsy is, and therefore will not be so much +surprised." + +"I should think the world would not be surprised at anything I would do +since I have consented to marry that hideous orang-outang, that mockery +of man, that death's-head, that 'thing of legs and arms,' that----" + +"Hush! hush! you little termagant! What a way to speak of the man you +are going to promise to 'love, honor, and obey,'" said the profoundly +shocked Mrs. Gower. + +"_Love, honor, and obey!_ Ha, ha, ha! Oh, won't I though, with a +vengeance! Won't I be a pattern wife! You'll see!" + +"What do you mean, child?" + +"Nothing, aunty," said Gipsy, with a strange smile, "merely making a +meditation. Here we are at the stake at last, and there I perceive +Reverend Mr. Goodenough ready to act the part of executioner; and there, +too, is Dr. Wiseman, the victim--who, as he will by and by find out, is +going to prove himself most decidedly a silly man to-day. Now, Gipsy +Gower, you are going to create a sensation, my dear, though you are +pretty well accustomed to that sort of thing." + +They had reached the hall by this time, where Dr. Wiseman, Squire +Erliston, and a number of others stood. All stared aghast at the sable +robes of Gipsy. + +"Oh? how is it? Why, what is the meaning of this?" demanded the squire, +in a rage. + +"Meaning of what, Guardy?" + +"What do you mean, miss, by wearing that black frock?" + +"And what business is it of yours, sir?" + +"You impudent minx! Go right up stairs and take it off." + +"I won't do anything of the kind! There now! Anybody that doesn't like +me in this can let me alone," retorted Gipsy. + +A fierce imprecation was on the lips of the squire, but Dr. Wiseman laid +his hand on his arm, and said, in his oiliest tones: + +"Never mind her, my dear sir; let her consult her own taste. I am as +willing my bride should wear black as anything else; she looks +bewitching in anything. Come, fairest lady." + +He attempted to draw her arm within his, but she sprang back, and +transfixing him with a flashing glance, she hissed: + +"No; withered be my arm if it ever rests in yours! Stand aside, Dr. +Wiseman; there is pollution in the very touch of your hand." + +"You capricious little fairy, why do you hate me so?" + +"Hate! Don't flatter yourself I hate you, Dr. Wiseman--I despise you +too much for that," she replied, her beautiful lip curling scornfully. + +"Exasperating little dare-devil that you are!" he exclaimed, growing +white with impotent rage, "take care that I do not make you repent +this." + +"You hideous old fright! do you dare to threaten now?" + +"Yes, and dare to perform, too, if you do not beware. Keep a guard on +your tongue, my lady, or you know who will suffer for it." + +The fierce retort that hovered on the lip of Gipsy was checked by their +entrance into the drawing-room. Such a crowd as was there, drawn +together for miles around by the news of this singular marriage. All +shrank back and looked at one another, as their eyes fell on the ominous +garments of the bride, as she walked in, proudly erect, beside her grim +bridegroom. + +"Beauty and the Beast!" "Vulcan and Venus!" "May and December!" were the +whispers that went round the room as they appeared. + +The Rev. Mr. Goodenough approached, and the bridal party stood before +him--the doctor glancing uneasily at his little bride, who stood with +her flashing eyes riveted to the floor, her lips firmly compressed, +proud, erect and haughty. + +The marriage ceremony commenced, and Mr. Goodenough, turning to the +doctor, put the usual question: + +"Nicholas Wiseman, wilt thou have Aurora Gower, here present, to be thy +wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer, for +poorer, in sickness and health, until death doth you part?" + +"Yes," was the reply, loud, clear, and distinct. + +Turning to the bride the clergyman demanded; + +"Aurora Gower, wilt thou have Nicholas Wiseman, here present, to be thy +lawful husband, to have, and to hold?" etc. + +A loud, fierce, passionate "_No!_" burst from the lips of the bride. Dr. +Wiseman saw her intention, and was immediately seized with a violent fit +of coughing, in which her reply was drowned. + +The mockery of a marriage was over, and Nicholas Wiseman and Aurora +Gower were solemnly pronounced "man and wife." + +A mocking smile curled the lips of the bride at the words, and she +turned to receive the congratulations of her many friends, to bear all +the hand-shaking, and hear herself addressed as "Mrs. Wiseman." + +"Now, beautiful fairy, you are my own at last. You see fate had decreed +it," said the doctor, with a grim smile. + +"And bitterly shall you repent that decree. Do you know what I was doing +when I stood up before the clergyman with you?" + +"No, sweet wife." + +"Well, then, listen. I was vowing and consecrating my whole life to one +purpose--one aim; and that is _deadly vengeance against you_ for what +you have done. Night and day, sleeping or waking, it shall always occupy +my thoughts, and I will live now only for revenge. Ha! I see I can make +your saffron visage blanch already, Dr. Wiseman. Oh! you'll find what a +happy thing it is to be married. Since I must go down, I shall drag down +with me all who have had part or share in this, my misery. You, viper, +ghoul that you are, have turned my very nature into that of a fiend. Dr. +Wiseman, if I thought, by any monstrous possibility, you could ever go +to heaven, I would take a dagger and send my own soul to perdition, +sooner than go there with you." + +There was something in her words, her tone, her face, perfectly +appalling. Her countenance was deadly white, save where the rouge +colored it, and her eyes. Oh! never were such wild, burning, gleaming +eyes seen in any face before. He cowered from her like the soul-struck +coward that he was; and, as with one glance of deadly concentrated hate +she glided from his side and mingled with the crowd, he wiped the cold +perspiration off his brow, and realized how true were the words oft +quoted: + + "Hell has no fury like a woman scorned," + +and began to fear that, after all, Mount Sunset was purchased at a dear +price. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +ARCHIE'S LOST LOVE. + + + "Be it so! we part forever-- + Let the past as nothing be; + Had I only loved thee, never + Hadst thou been thus dear to me. + + "More than woman thou wast to me-- + Not as man I looked on thee; + Why, like woman, then, undo me? + Why heap man's worst curse on me?"--BYRON. + +It was the evening of Gipsy's wedding-day--a wet, chilly, disagreeable +evening, giving promise of a stormy, tempestuous night--fit weather for +such a bridal! + +Lights were already gleaming in the cottages of the villagers, and the +large parlor of the "Inn of St. Mark's" was crowded--every one +discussing the surprising wedding up at the Hall, and wondering what +Miss Gipsy would do next--when, as James says, "a solitary horseman +might have been seen," riding at a break-neck pace toward Deep Dale. The +house looked dreary, dark, and dismal--unlighted save by the glare from +one window. Unheeding this, the "solitary horseman" alighted, and giving +his horse to the care of the servant, ran up the stairs and +unceremoniously burst into the parlor, where Minnette Wiseman sat +reading alone. All her father's entreaties and commands to be present at +his wedding were unheeded. She had heard the news of his approaching +marriage with the utmost coolness--a stare of surprise from her bright +black eyes being the only outward emotion it caused. + +"Why should I go to see you married?" was her impatient reply to his +stern commands. "I care nothing for Gipsy Gower, nor she for me. You can +be married just as well without me. I won't go!" + +Therefore she sat quietly reading at home while the nuptial revelry was +at its height in Sunset Hall, and looked up, with an exclamation of +surprise, to see our traveler standing before her. + +"Archie! what in the world brought _you_ here?" she exclaimed, rising, +and placing a chair for him before the fire. + +"Rail-cars part of the way, steamer next, and, finally, my horse." + +"Don't be absurd. Why have you come to Saint Mark's? No one expected you +here these three months." + +"Know it, coz. But I've found out I am the luckiest dog in creation, and +ran down here to tell you and _another_ particular friend I have. I +suppose you have heard of Uncle John Rivers, my father's brother. Yes! +Well, about four months ago he returned from Europe, with one hundred +and fifty thousand dollars and the consumption. Though he never had the +honor of my acquaintance, he knew there existed so distinguished an +individual, and accordingly left the whole of his property to me; and a +few weeks after, gave up the ghost. You see, therefore, Minnette, I'm a +rich man. I've pitched law to its patron saint, the--hem!--and started +off down here post-haste to marry a certain little girl in these +diggin's, and take her with me to see the sights in Europe." + +"My dear cousin, I congratulate you. I presume Miss Pearl is to be the +young lady of your choice." + +"No; Celeste is too much of an angel for such a hot-headed scamp as I +am. I mean another little girl, whom I've long had a _penchant_ for. But +where's your father?" + +Minnette laughed sarcastically. + +"Getting married, I presume. This night my worthy parent follows the +Scriptural injunction, and takes unto himself a wife." + +"Nonsense, Minnette!--you jest." + +"Do I?" said Minnette, quietly. "I thought you knew me well enough now, +Archie, to know I never jest." + +"But, Minnette, it is absurd. Dr. Wiseman married in his old age. Why, +it's a capital joke." And Archie laughed uproariously. "Who is the +fortunate lady that is to be your mamma and my respected aunt?" + +"Why, no other than that little savage, Gipsy Gower." + +Had a spasm been suddenly thrust into Archie's heart, he could not have +leaped more convulsively from his seat. Even the undaunted Minnette drew +back in alarm. + +"What did you say?" he exclaimed, grasping her arm, unconsciously, with +a grip of iron. "To whom is he to be married?" + +"To Aurora Gower. What do you mean, sir? Let go my arm." + +He dropped it, staggered to a chair, dropped his head in his hands, and +sat like one suddenly struck by death. + +"Archie, what _is_ the matter?" said Minnette, looking at him in wonder. +"Was Gipsy the one you came here to marry?" + +"Minnette! Minnette! it cannot be true!" he exclaimed, springing to +his feet, without heeding her question. "It is absurd--monstrous-- +_impossible_! My wild, free, daring Gipsy would never consent to +marry a man she abhorred. For Heaven's sake, Minnette, only say you +have been jesting!" + +"I have spoken the truth," she answered, coldly. "My father this morning +married Aurora Gower!" + +"Great heavens! I shall go mad! What in the name of all the saints +tempted her to commit such an act?" + +"I know not. Most probably it is one of her strange freaks--or, perhaps, +she thinks papa rich, and married him for his money. At all events, +married him she has; her reasons for doing so I neither know nor care +for." + +"Heaven of heavens! Could Gipsy--she whom I always thought the pure, +warm-hearted child of nature--commit so base an act? It cannot be! I +will _never_ believe it! By some infernal plot she has been entrapped +into this unnatural marriage, and dearly shall those who have forced her +rue it!" exclaimed Archie, treading up and down the room like one +distracted. + +"You always _thought_ her simple and guileless; I always _knew_ her to +be artful and ambitious. She has not been entrapped. I have heard that +she laughs as merrily as ever, and talks more nonsense than she ever did +before in her life--in short, appears perfectly happy. She is too bold +and daring to be entrapped. Besides, what means could they use to compel +her? If she found them trying to tyrannize over her, she would run off +as she did before. Nonsense, Archie! Your own sense must tell you she +has married him willingly." + +Every word was like a dagger to his heart. He dropped into a chair, +buried his face in his hands, and groaned. + +"Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy!--lost to me forever. What are wealth and honor to me +now! For you I toiled to win a home and name, believing you true. And +thus I am repaid for all. Oh, is there nothing but treachery and deceit +in this world? Would to heaven," he added, springing fiercely up, and +shaking back his fair, brown hair, "that the man she has wedded were not +an old dotard like that. I would blow his brains out ere another hour." + +"My father will, no doubt, rejoice to find his years have saved his +life," said Minnette, in her customary cold tone. "Pray, Mr. Rivers, be +more calm; there is no necessity for all this excitement. If Aurora +Gower has deserted you for one whom she supposed wealthier, it is only +the old story over again." + +"The old story!" exclaimed Archie, bitterly. "Yes, the old story of +woman's heartlessness and treachery, and man's blind self-deception. Be +calm! Yes; if you had told me she whom I love above all on earth was +dead, and in her grave, I might be calm; but the wife of another, and +that _other_"--he paused, and ground his teeth with impotent rage. + +"Well, since it is so, and cannot be helped, what's the use of making +such a time about it?" said Minnette, impatiently, taking up her book +and beginning to read. + +Archie glanced at the cold, stone-like girl before him, whose very +calmness seemed to madden him; then, seizing his hat, he rushed from the +room, exclaiming: + +"Yes, I will see her--I will confront her once more, accuse her of her +deceit and selfishness, and then leave the country forever." + +He was out of the house in an instant; and in five minutes was galloping +madly through the driving wind and rain, unheeded and unfelt, now toward +Mount Sunset Hall. + +The numberless blazing lights from the many windows illumined his path +before it; the sound of revelry was wafted to his ears by the wind, +making him gnash his teeth in very rage. + +He reached the mansion, threw the reins to one of the many servants +standing in the court-yard; and all wet and travel-stained, pale, wild, +and excited as he was, he made his way through the wondering crowd, that +involuntarily made way for him to pass; and + + "So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, + Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers and all. + But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, + The bride had consented--the gallant came late." + +Heeding not the many curious eyes bent upon him, still he strode on, +until he stood within the crowded drawing-room. + +Amid all that throng his eye saw but one face, beheld but one form. +Standing near the upper end of the room was Gipsy--_his_ Gipsy +once--looking far more beautiful than he had ever seen her before, and +flirting with all her might with a dashing lieutenant. + +Having gained her point, to be married in black, she had exchanged her +dismal robes for the gorgeous wedding-dress that fell around her in +folds of light. Pearls flashed amid her raven curls, gleamed in her +ears, shone on her white arms, and rose and fell on her restless bosom. +She needed no rouge, for her cheeks were vivid crimson, her lips red and +glowing, her eyes outshining the jewels she wore. Never had Gipsy been +so lovely, so bewildering, so intoxicating before. + +The very sight seemed to madden Archie. To see her there in all her +dazzling beauty, the wife of another, laughing and talking as gayly as +though _he_ had never existed, nearly drove him to desperation. Striding +through the crowd of gay revelers, who drew back in alarm from his wild, +pale face and fierce eyes, he advanced through the room, and stood +before the bride. + +There was an instantaneous hush through the room. Dr. Wiseman, already +sullen and jealous, sprang up from the distant corner to which he had +retreated, but did not venture to approach. + +Gipsy's graceful head was bent in well-affected timidity as she listened +to the gallant words and whispered compliments of the gay young officer, +when, suddenly looking up, she beheld a sight that froze the smile on +her lip, the light in her eye, the blood in her veins, the very life in +her heart. Every trace of color faded from her face, leaving her white +as the dead; her lips parted, but no sound came forth. + +"So, Mrs. Wiseman, I see you recognize me!" he said, with bitter +sarcasm. "Allow me to congratulate you upon this joyful occasion. Do not +let the recollection that you have perjured yourself to-day before God's +minister, mar your festivity to-night. No doubt the wealth for which you +have cast a true heart aside, and wedded a man you loathe, will make you +completely happy. As I leave America forever to-morrow, I wished to +offer my congratulations to the 'happy pair' before I went. I was fool +enough, at one time, to believe the promises you made me; but I did not +then know 'how fair an outside falsehood hath.' Farewell, Mrs. Wiseman! +you and I will never meet again. All your treachery, all your deceit, +your heartlessness, is known to me, and I will never trouble you more!" + +He turned, left the house, sprang on his horse, and was out of St. +Mark's ere any one had recovered from their astonishment and +stupefaction sufficiently to speak. + +He heard not, as he rode along, the wild, piercing cry of anguish that +broke from the lips of the bride, as she fell senseless to the ground. +He knew not, as he stood on the deck of the steamer, next morning, bound +for "merrie England," that the once free, wild, mountain huntress, the +once daring, defying Gipsy, lay raving and shrieking in the wild +delirium of brain fever, calling always in vain for him she had lost. +They had caught the young eaglet, and caged it at last; but the free +bird of the mountains lay wounded and dying in their grasp. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +LOUIS. + + + "A look of pride, an eye of flame; + A full-drawn lip that upward curled; + An eye that seemed to scorn the world."--SCOTT. + +It was a merry morn in June, many months after the events related in the +last chapter. A brief retrospective glance it is necessary to take ere +we proceed. + +For many long weeks after the fatal night of her marriage, Gipsy lay +hovering between life and death; and Celeste came, with her loving +heart, and gentle voice, and noiseless footstep, and, unheeding rest or +sleep, nursed the poor, pale, crazed little bride back to life. No one +else would Gipsy have near her--not even Aunty Gower; and a physician +from the city attended her--for the very mention of her detested +bridegroom threw her into hysterics. But, notwithstanding all their +care, long months passed away ere Gipsy was well again, and Celeste, +worn and wearied, but uncomplaining, permitted to return to the peaceful +solitude of Valley Cottage. + +Dr. Wiseman had not yet breathed a syllable of Gipsy's parentage. He +could not do so during her illness; and when she recovered, he wished a +decent interval of time to elapse ere he made it known, lest the world +should suspect his previous knowledge of it had caused him to marry her. +Besides, he found there was no cause to hurry; for, during Gipsy's +illness, the squire had invited him to shut up his house at Deep Dale, +and bring Minnette with him, to reside at Sunset Hall. To this the +doctor eagerly assented; and having, with some trouble, prevailed upon +Minnette to accompany him, Deep Dale was rented, and the doctor and his +daughter became domesticated at Mount Sunset Hall. + +Nearly nine months had elapsed. Gipsy--now as well as ever, and more +daring and mischievous even than before--had just set herself to work to +begin fulfilling the vow she had made, and soon succeeded in driving the +doctor nearly wild. Though he had merely married her for her money, he +had, as time passed on, learned to love her with a strange, selfish, +absorbing passion; and the more she mocked, and scorned, and laughed at +him, the more infatuated he grew. The wilful elf kept her husband in a +constant state of panic and terror, running into the greatest dangers +with the utmost recklessness, and often barely escaping with her life. +Out all hours of the day and night, sometimes not coming home until +morning, it is not to be wondered at that she kept the whole household +in alarm. Often after midnight, going out to search for her, they would +find her riding among the rocks, or, having tied up Mignonne, she would +be discovered asleep in some grotto or cavern. Then her flirting! The +doctor was madly jealous, and not without reason. There was not a man +under thirty, if at all presentable, but the reckless girl had flirted +unmercifully with, in a way that would have completely destroyed the +reputation of any other woman, but which was merely noticed by the +remark that it was "just like Gipsy;" and her maddest actions were +listened to with a smile and a stare of astonishment, and a "wonder what +she'll do next?" Poor, half-crazed little Gipsy! The real goodness of +her nature was too apparent to all through her outward recklessness to +make them suspect her of evil. + +St. Mark's had become a much gayer place than when we first knew it. +Many new families had moved hither from the city; and balls, and +parties, and sleigh-rides in winter, and picnics, and excursions, and +soirees, in summer, became all the rage; and the leader of all these was +the "merry little Mrs. Wiseman," as these new-comers called her. And no +one, to see her entering heart and soul into these festivities, would +ever dream of the miserable secret weighing on her mind, or the still +untamed, restless heart that struggled to find forgetfulness in constant +gayety. + +They had never heard of Archie since his departure, save once through +Louis, who, in one of his letters, spoke of having met him in Paris. No +one mentioned his name at Sunset Hall. Gipsy especially, even in the +remotest way, never alluded to him; and the good, obtuse family began to +hope she had quite forgotten him. + +And now we have come back to that merry morn in June with which this +chapter opened. Gipsy, arrayed in a tasteful riding-habit, which she +held up with one hand, while in the other she held a silver-mounted +riding-whip, stood in the breezy park, watching her horse, that was +neighing impatiently to be off. Mrs. Gower stood behind her, looking +troubled and anxious. + +"My dear Gipsy," she was saying, "I wish you would not go out this +morning. What will people say to see you out riding, and your husband +having fallen from his horse, and broken two of his ribs and his leg, +last night?" + +"I wish it had been his neck!" + +"Oh, child! don't say such sinful, wicked things. Of course, I know you +don't mean them; but then it's very wrong." + +"I don't care, aunty; I _do_ wish it--there! I don't see what possesses +him to cumber the earth so long. If he doesn't give up the ghost soon, +I'll administer a dose of hemp some night--for I do believe his destiny +is hanging. If there ever was a neck made for a rope, it's his--just the +shape for it. Jupe, mind what you're at there. Don't let Mignonne get +all over dust." + +"Gipsy, you will stay?" + +"I _won't_ stay, aunty--not if it were Dr. Wiseman's neck, instead of +his ribs, that was broken. Oh, yes, I would, too; I'd stay home then for +joy. I'm off now. Good-bye. If his worship becomes extinct during my +absence, just send for me, and I'll shed a few tears, and everything +will go off in fashionable style." + +And, laughing at Mrs. Gower's scandalized face, Gipsy leaped on her +horse and rode off. + +As she ascended the hills behind Mount Sunset she beheld, opposite to +her, a horseman with his back toward her, standing silent and +motionless, gazing upon Sunset Hall. + +"I wonder who he is?" thought Gipsy. "A handsome fellow, I should say, +for his form is superb. Wonder if he knows he's standing on my favorite +point of view? Well, as I've no notion of surrendering my rights to him +or any one else, I'll just give him a hint to get out of that." And, +suiting the action to the words, Gipsy shouted, as she reined up her +horse: "Hallo, sir!" + +The horseman was still gazing like one entranced. He evidently did not +hear her. + +"I say, sir!" again called Gipsy. + +Still no answer. + +"Well, whoever you are," soliloquized Gipsy, "you're mighty polite to +refuse answering a lady. I'll try again. Look here, sirrah, will you?" + +He did not move. + +"Well, 'pon my honor, that's decidedly cool!" said Gipsy. "So you won't +pretend to notice me, eh? Very well, sir; we'll see whether you'll pay +more attention to a lady than this." + +And Gipsy drew a pistol from her belt, took deliberate aim, and fired. + +It was well she doubted not her own skill; it was well she had a steady +hand and eye; for the bullet passed through the crown of his hat, +scarcely two inches above the temple. + +With an exclamation of surprise and anger, the stranger turned round, +and likewise drew a pistol. His eye wandered over the scene; but he +could see no one but a young girl, who was coolly reloading her pistol, +as if about to send a second ball in the same direction. + +"Good-morning, madam. Did you see any one fire just now," said the +stranger, in a most musical voice, as he rode toward her. + +"Yes, sir, _I_ fired it," replied Gipsy, impudently. + +"_You_ did!" said the stranger, with a stare of surprise; "and may I +ask, madam, if it was your intention to shoot me?" + +"Of course it was! My aim was unfortunately taken a little too high. If +you'll just stand there again, I'll try another shot," replied Gipsy +gravely. + +Again the stranger stared, as though doubting the sanity of his +companion. There was no idiocy, however, in the bright, keen eyes, +twinkling with suppressed mirth, that were now lifted to his; and, +taking off his hat, the stranger pointed to the hole, saying: + +"On the whole, I think I have no particular fancy for being made a +target of--especially for so good a shot as you. May I ask the name of +the fair amazon I have been fortunate enough to meet?" + +"You must be a stranger here not to know it. I have several names; the +last and least of which is--Mrs. Wiseman. And yours?" + +"Louis Oranmore, very much at your service," he answered, with a courtly +bow. + +"Oh!" Such a stare as he got from those bright eyes--such a quick flush +of delight as overspread the pretty face beneath him--such a keen +scrutiny as his face underwent at that moment. He noticed it, without +pretending to do so; but there was an ill-repressed smile of amusement +hovering about his finely-chiseled lip. Yet it was evident he did not +recognize her. + +The handsome, impetuous boy had grown into a tall, elegant, +princely-looking man. His complexion, darkened by foreign suns to a +clear, manly olive, was shaded by a profusion of jet-black curling hair. +His fine dark eyes were bright, clear, almost piercing; his upper lip +was shaded by a black mustache, but it did not conceal its scornful +upward curve. Pride and passion, genius and unbending will were written +in every lineament of that irresistibly handsome face; yet there was at +times a winning softness in it, particularly when he smiled. He still +bore a strong likeness to his dead father, save that Louis was much +handsomer. There was something grand and noble in his tall yet slight +figure, mingled with an ease and grace of manner that bespoke his +acquaintance with polished society. His voice, that could at times ring +with the clarion tones of command, never addressed a woman without being +modulated to the softest and most musical of sounds. Such had our old +favorite Louis become--very little like the Louis we once knew, we must +own--very little like the guileless, innocent Louis, this gay young man +of pleasure. + +Perhaps something of all this was floating through the mind of Gipsy; +for in spite of the admiration that shone in her now radiant face, she +finished her scrutiny with a sigh. + +"Well, fair lady, do you find me so very hideous that you thus turn +away?" he asked, fixing his deep, dark eyes in evident amusement on her +face. + +Gipsy would have blushed had she known how; but it was something she +knew very little about, so she merely answered: + +"Well, I think I have seen persons almost as frightful looking as you +before. You are a stranger here, I presume?" + +"Yes; though this is my native village, yet I have been absent for many +years in Europe. May I ask if you are acquainted with the inmates of +Sunset Hall yonder?" + +"Yes; I've seen them." + +"Are they all well?" + +"Why, yes, I believe so; all but Spi--I mean Dr. Wiseman." + +"Dr. Wiseman! What has he to do there?--he does not belong to the +family." + +"Yes, he does." + +"_What?_" + +"He married a ward of Squire Erliston's--Gipsy--something, I think they +called her. Gow--Gow--Gower, I believe, was the name--and then, with his +daughter, came there to live." + +"Why, is it possible? Has little Gipsy Gower married that old man--old +enough to be her grandfather?" exclaimed Louis, in unbounded amazement. + +"Yes." + +"Well, after that, nothing will surprise me. And Archie never mentioned +a word of it," said Louis, in a sort of soliloquy; "and my--and Mrs. +Oranmore, how is she?" + +"Pretty well. She has not been very strong lately." + +"Poor mother! And the squire?" + +"Is quite well." + +"You reside in St. Mark's, I presume?" + +"Why, yes. Nonsense, Louis! Don't you know me?" + +"Hallo! No, it's not; yes, it is, though; it's Gipsy Gower, is it not?" +cried Louis. + +"No, sir. Mrs. Nicholas Wiseman, if you please," said Gipsy, drawing +herself up. + +"My dear little Gipsy, I am delighted to meet you again. How handsome +you have grown! Allow me to embrace my little playmate?" + +Accepting his salute with saucy cordiality, Gipsy turned her horse's +head in the direction of the Hall. + +"Tell me now, Louis, what brings you home so suddenly?" asked Gipsy. + +"Why, to confess the truth, I grew tired of sight-seeing, and began to +feel homesick for the old, familiar faces; so, wishing to surprise you +all, I started without sending you word, and here I am. But, Gipsy, +whatever possessed you to marry that old man?" + +"_Love_, of course. People always marry for love, you know." + +"Pshaw! Gipsy, I know better than that. Why did you jilt poor Archie? I +met him in Paris, half crazy, one would imagine. He answered my +questions rationally enough, until we came to speak of you, when he +burst forth into a torrent of invectives against flirts and deceivers in +general, and then seized his hat and fled from the room, leaving me to +conjecture as best I might his meaning. Come, Gipsy, own up, are you not +the cause of all this frenzy?" + +Gipsy's face had grown very pale; her eyes were bent on the ground, her +lips firmly compressed, as she answered, in a low, hurried voice: + +"Louis, don't talk to me on this subject. I am wicked and wretched +enough the best of times, but I always feel like a perfect fiend when +this subject is mentioned. Suffice it for you to know that fate had +decreed I should wed Dr. Wiseman; no earthly power could have prevented +it, therefore I became his wife." + +"Did they dare to force you?" exclaimed Louis, with a kindling eye. "If +so----" + +"No, no, Louis; I could have refused if I would. Don't mention this +subject more. See, there is the old hall; and there at the gate stands +Minnette Wiseman, _my_ daughter now, you know. Is she not a beautiful +girl?" + +"Beautiful indeed!" exclaimed Louis, enthusiastically, pausing +involuntarily to gaze upon her. + +Splendid indeed looked Minnette. Her dress of black (she always wore +black) fluttering in the morning breeze, and confined at the slender +waist by a dark crimson belt. Her long, shiny blue-black hair was twined +in classic braids around her superb head. Her glorious black eyes were +fixed on the glancing waters of the bay, and no June rose ever bloomed a +more brilliant crimson than the hue of her cheek. She might have been an +Eastern queen--for her beauty was truly regal, with her dark, oriental +face, and splendid Syrian eye; but there was too much fire and passion +in her nature, and too few womanly traits and feelings. + +"Oh, Minnette, guess who's come!" cried Gipsy, riding up to where she +stood. + +"Who?" said Minnette, breathlessly, as her eye fell on Louis. + +The next moment she started convulsively; the blood rushed in torrents +to her brow. _She_ had recognized him, though Gipsy had not. + +"It's Louis," said Gipsy--"Louis Oranmore! Come, Louis! come! Miss +Minnette. I am going up to the house to tell them you have come." + +She was off like a flash, up the lawn, and in the house, while Louis +leaped from his horse, and with courtly grace raised Minnette's hand to +his lips; while she, pressing her hand to her heart, that beat and +throbbed as though it would force its way to him, strove to return his +salutation. It was a strange thing to see the cold, marble-like Minnette +so moved. + +"How everything has changed since I left home!" said Louis; "the place +itself seems changed, and you more than all. I left you a little girl, +thoughtful beyond your years, and I return to find you----" + +"The most beautiful woman my eyes ever rested on," he would have said, +but she raised her head, and something in the expression of her face +checked him. + +No marble ever was whiter or more cold, as she said: + +"Yes, all has changed, and none more so than your former _favorite_, +Celeste." + +"Ah! little Celeste--how is she? I had forgotten to ask for her. I trust +she is well?" + +"I presume so. I know nothing to the contrary." + +"I remember her a lovely child; I suppose she is an equally lovely +girl?" said Louis, carelessly. + +A scorching, scathing glance shot from the lightning eyes of Minnette; +but, without answering him, she turned away, and walked steadily into +the house. + +"Strange, incomprehensible girl!" said Louis, looking in surprise after +her. "How that flashing glance reminds me of the Minnette of other days! +Have I said anything to offend her, I wonder? Heigho! what a radiant +creature she is, to be sure! What would not some of the gay court +beauties I know give for that superb form and glorious face! Well, I +must not fall in love with her, however, if I can help it. Here comes +that airy little mountain sprite, Gipsy! and now for my lady mother!" + +"Come, Louis, come!" she cried, darting in again. + +Louis followed her as she led the way to his mother's chamber. Then +opening the door, she ushered him in, and closing it after her, +immediately retreated. + +Lizzie sat in an easy-chair, a crimson shawl wrapped around her, her +eyes bright, her pale cheeks flushed with expectation. She arose at his +entrance, and the next moment was clasped in his arms, while their +mutual exclamations were: + +"My dear Louis!" + +"My dearest mother!" + +There was a moment's silence; then Lizzie raised her head and surveyed +him from head to foot, her face sparkling with pride and admiration. + +"How tall you have grown! and how handsome you are!--handsome enough for +a king, I think, Louis!" she said, delightedly. + +"Are kings handsomer than other people, my dear mother?" he said, with a +smile. + +"Why, I suppose so; I never saw one. You are the very image of your poor +dead father, too! Dear me! what an age it seems since we parted last!" +said Lizzie, sinking back in her seat, with a sigh. + +"I am sorry to find you so ill, mother," said Louis, gazing sadly into +her thin, pale face, from which the bright glow was fast fading. + +"Oh, I am always worse in the spring than at any other time. In a month +or two I will be quite a different-looking individual," said Lizzie, +hopefully. + +An hour passed away, and then there came a tap at the door. Louis arose +and opened it, and beheld Gipsy. + +"Well, Louis, if you're done talking to your mother, you'd better come +down and see Guardy. He's just woke up, but he doesn't know yet you've +come," said Gipsy. + +Louis went down stairs, taking half the staircase at a bound in his +haste. Pushing open the parlor door, he unceremoniously entered the +presence of the squire, who, after his old habit, lay in a lounging +chair, with his feet stretched upon another, smoking his pipe with the +benign air of a man at peace with himself and the rest of mankind. + +At the abrupt entrance of Louis he looked up with a start, and muttered +something suspiciously like an oath at seeing a tall, dark foreigner--as +he supposed him to be--standing before him. + +"Eh? who the deuce--I beg your pardon, sir, sit down," said the squire, +staring with all his eyes. + +"Do you not know me, my dear grandfather?" said Louis, advancing with +extended hand. + +"Why! Lord bless me, if it is not Louis Oranmore," said the squire, +jumping up, "with as much hair on his face as a chimpanzee monkey has on +its body. Bless my heart! this _is_ a surprise! When did you get home? +Eh, when did you come?" + +"About an hour ago, sir." + +"And you're Louis? Well, well! Why, you weren't as high as that when you +left," holding his hand about three inches from the ground, "and here +you come back as tall as a lamp-post, with mustache enough for a +shoe-brush, and dressed like a Spanish grandee. 'All's vanity,' as +Solomon says. Well, and how did you get on with those old humbugs you +went off to see--eh?" + +"What old humbugs, sir?" + +"Pooh! you know very well--the old masters." + +"Oh! I flatter myself I have seen them to some purpose," said Louis, +laughing; "but, to change the subject, I perceive you have made a few +changes in the domestic economy of Sunset Hall during my absence." + +"Why, yes, my boy; a few, a few! Gipsy's married to the old doctor, and +didn't want to, either; but we coaxed her round and took her while she +was 'in the humor,' as Solomon says." + +"I trust, sir, Gipsy was not _compelled_ to marry this old man?" said +Louis, with a darkening brow. + +"Pooh! pshaw! of course not! Married him of her own free will--just like +Gipsy, always doing what nobody would expect; 'women are like mules,' as +Solomon says--want them to go one way, and they'll be sure to go +t'other," said the squire, uneasily, evidently anxious to change the +subject. "Have you seen old Wiseman and his daughter since your return?" + +"I have not seen the doctor, but his daughter I have. She is a most +beautiful girl," replied Louis. + +"Bah! 'All that glitters is not gold,' as Solomon says. She's a proud, +sullen, conceited minx, _that's_ what she is--never liked her. And mind, +my young jackanapes, you mustn't go and fall in love with her. You must +look out for an heiress; not a girl like her, without a cent to bless +herself with." + +"I thought the doctor was rich," said Louis. + +"So he is; but stingy--infernally stingy! Won't give her a copper till +his death!" + +"Well, sir, I have no present intention of falling in love with her or +any one else; but if I had, Minnette Wiseman would be just the girl for +me. She is handsome, refined, intellectual, as any one can tell from her +conversation. What more would a man have?" + +"Stuff! moonshine! 'Fine words butter no parsnips,' as Solomon says. She +wants the _gilt_--the money, my boy. Love in a cottage sounds very fine, +but come to real life and see what it is. No, sir; I will never hear to +your marrying a poor girl--never! The heir of Erliston and Oranmore must +find an heiress for a wife. No matter about love, you know; money's the +thing. 'When poverty comes in at the door love flies out of the window,' +as Solomon says." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. + + + "Oh, her smile it seemed half holy, + As if drawn from thoughts more fair + Than our common jestings are; + And if any painter drew her, + He would paint her, unaware, + With a halo round her hair." + --E. B. BROWNING. + +A week had passed away at Mount Sunset Hall since the arrival of Louis. + +It had been a week of unremitting storm. Rain, rain, rain, from morning +till night, and from night to morning, without ceasing. + +No one could go abroad in such weather; so the arrival of Louis remained +a secret in the neighborhood. It is true, Gipsy, who feared storm no +more than sunshine, would have ridden forth, but preparations were being +made for a grand party at the mansion, in honor of Louis' arrival, and +she was forced to stay at home to assist. The whole household, with the +exception of Louis and Minnette, were pressed into the business. Even +Lizzie sat in the dining-room and stoned raisins, and sorted fruit, and +pickles, and preserves, and looked over dresses, and laces, and +muslins, and flowers, with unabated zeal. Gipsy might have been seen +flying about in calico long-shorts from morning till night, entering +heart and soul into the excitement. Jupiter and Mrs. Gower were sent to +the city for "things," and the squire was continually blowing and +blustering about, and over-seeing all in general. + +Minnette was too indolent to have anything to do with it, and so was +left to herself--and Louis. That young gentleman, seeing how busy all +were, gravely offered his services in the kitchen, saying, with the +assistance of Totty, he had no doubt but he would learn how to wash +dishes and make himself useful in time. His offer, however, like the +manuscripts often sent to publishers, was "respectfully declined," and +he and Minnette being thus thrown together, became, during the week of +the storm, the best of friends--perhaps something more. + +Their mornings were usually spent in the library, she embroidering while +he read aloud poetry--dangerous occupation for a young and handsome man. +Then he had such long stories and anecdotes to tell her, of his travels, +of his "hair-breadth escapes by flood and field;" and it _did_ flatter +his vanity a little to see the work drop unnoticed from her hand, her +cheek flush or pale, her breath come quick and short at his words. Their +afternoons were mostly devoted to music; she seated at the piano playing +and singing his favorite songs, chiefly old Scotch and German love +ditties, which he liked better than Italian songs or opera music, in +spite of his usually fashionable taste. And Minnette--wild, passionate +girl that she was--who can tell the tumultuous thoughts that set her +heart throbbing so fast, or brought so vivid a crimson to her blooming +cheek, as he bent over her, entranced--his dark, glossy locks mingling +with hers? Perhaps he did not exactly make love to her, but he was too +thorough a man of the world not to perceive that she loved him, as only +one of her fiery, passionate nature can love. The proud, haughty girl, +who had all her life been a marble statue to others, was gentle and +timid as a child before him. And he--I cannot excuse him--but though he +loved her not he liked this devoted homage, this fiery heart he had +tamed and won; and by his manner, almost unconsciously, led her to +believe her love was returned. For the first time in her life, she was +supremely happy, yielding herself, without restraint, to the +intoxicating spell of his eye and voice. + +Gipsy's keen eyes saw all this, too--saw it with regret and +apprehension, and with instinctive dread. + +"Minnette's marble heart had been changed to quivering flesh at last," +was her soliloquy. "She _loves_ him, and (it is the old story) he +_likes_ her. Heaven forbid he should trifle with her! for woe to you, +Louis Oranmore, if the unchained force of Minnette's lion-passions is +aroused. Better for you you had never been born, than that the mad love +of her tiger heart should turn to still madder hate. She can never make +him or any one else happy; she is too fierce, too jealous, too exacting. +I wish she had never come here. I will ride over to-night or to-morrow, +and bring Celeste here; when he sees _her_, I know he can never love +Minnette. It may not be too late yet to remedy the evil. The love of +Celeste would ennoble him--raise him above the earth, that of Minnette +will drag him down, down, to darkness and doom. I must prevent it." + +Too late! too late! Gipsy. The evil has been done that can never be +remedied. The "marble-heart" is awakened from its long repose at last. + +The cards of invitation had been sent out for miles around. Early in the +evening of the day appointed Gipsy ordered the carriage and drove to +Valley Cottage. Miss Hagar, gray, grim, and unchanged, stiff and upright +as ever, sat (as usual) knitting in the chimney-corner. A perfect bower +of neatness was that little cottage--outside almost hidden in its wealth +of vines and leaves--inside, bright with cleanliness, and odoriferous +with the perfume of flowers that came drifting in through the white +draped windows and open door. And there, sitting by the window in her +neat-fitting muslin dress, bright, sunshiny, and smiling, sat sweet +Celeste, the "Star of the Valley," celebrated for her beauty for miles +around. + +"Ah, Miss Hagar! how d'ye do? Pleasant day," said Gipsy, flashing in +after her old fashion. "Celeste, throw down that sewing, and come right +off to the Hall with me; I want you." + +"Oh! really, my dear Gipsy, you must excuse me," smiled Celeste; "I am +making this dress for poor old Widow Mayer, and must finish it to-night. +So I cannot possibly go." + +"Now, that's just like you, Celeste--always sewing, or sitting up, or +writing letters, or reading the Testament to some poor old unfortunate, +instead of taking any pleasure for yourself. I declare you ought to be a +Sister of Charity, at once! But you sha'n't work yourself to death for +any one; so come along. I'll send the old lady over, to-morrow, every +dress I have, sooner than want you to-night." + +"But Miss Hagar, Gipsy; it is not right for me to leave her alone. She +is so lonesome without me." + +"No, she's not. You're glad to get rid of her; ain't you, Miss Hagar?" + +"I should be pleased to have her go. It is right she should enjoy +herself with the rest of the young folks," said Miss Hagar. + +"There! you hear that? Now you go and get ready!" + +"But really, dear Gipsy----" + +"Now, none of your 'dear Gipsy-ing' me! I won't listen to another word! +You _must_ come; that's the whole of it," said Gipsy, seizing the work, +and throwing it into a corner, and pulling the laughing Celeste by main +force from the room. + +"But, Gipsy, why are you so anxious for me to go with you to-night?" +said Celeste, when they had reached her chamber. + +"Oh, because I have my _raysons_ for it," as little Pat Flynn says. "Now +I want you to look your very prettiest to-night, Celeste. In fact, you +must be perfectly irresistible." + +"I am afraid you are going to play me some trick, Gipsy!" said Celeste, +smiling and hesitating. + +"Oh! honor bright! Come, hurry up! Put on your white muslin; you look +better in it than anything else." + +"Besides being the best dress I have," said Celeste, as she took it +down, for the cottage maiden always dressed with the utmost plainness +and simplicity. + +"I'll run out and gather you some rosebuds for your hair," said Gipsy, +as Celeste began to dress. + +"But, indeed, Gipsy, I am not accustomed to be so gayly attired," said +Celeste, anxiously. + +"Nonsense! what is there gay in a few white rosebuds, I'd like to know? +You _shall_ wear them," said Gipsy, hurrying from the room. + +Half an hour later and Celeste's toilet was complete. Very lovely she +looked in her simple white robe, fastened at her slender waist by a blue +ribbon, her shining hair of pale gold falling like a shower of sunlight +over her beautifully white and rounded neck, and wreathed with moss +roses. Her fair, rose-tinted face, with its deep, blue eyes, shaded by +long, sunny lashes; her red, smiling lips; her softly flushed cheeks, +and broad, transparent forehead, bright with youth, and goodness, and +loveliness! + +"Why, Celeste, you are radiant to-night--lovely, bewitching, angelic!" +exclaimed Gipsy, gazing upon her in sort of rapture. + +"Nonsense, dear Gipsy!" said Celeste, smiling, and blushing even at the +words of the little hoyden. "Are you, too, becoming a flatterer?" + +"Not I; I would scorn to be! You know I never flatter, Celeste; but you +seem to have received a baptism of living beauty to-night." + +Celeste very well knew Gipsy never flattered. Candor was a part of the +elf's nature; so, blushing still more, she threw a light shawl over her +shoulders, and entered the sitting-room. Both girls took leave of Miss +Hagar, and entered the carriage, that whirled them rapidly in the +direction of Mount Sunset. + +"Gipsy, I know you have some design in all this?" said Celeste, as they +drove along. + +"Well; suppose I have?" + +"Why, I shall be tempted to take it very hard indeed. Why have you +brought me here, Gipsy?" + +"Well, to meet a friend. There now!" + +"Who is it?" + +"Sha'n't tell you yet. Here we are at home." + +Celeste glanced from the window, and saw the court-yard full of +carriages, the hall illuminated, and throngs of people pouring in. + +"Is it possible, Gipsy, this is a large party?" + +"Yes; just so, my dear." + +"Oh, Gipsy! it was too bad of you to entrap me in this way!" said +Celeste, reproachfully. + +"Fiddle! it's a great thing to go to a party, ain't it? Come, jump out, +and come up to my dressing-room; I have a still greater surprise in +store for you." + +Celeste passed, with Gipsy, through a side door, and both ran, +unobserved, up to her room. Then--after an hour or so, which it took +Gipsy to dress, both descended to the saloon, where the dancing was +already at its height. + +Their entrance into the crowded rooms produced a decided sensation. +Gipsy, blazing with jewels, moved along like a spirit of light, and +Celeste, in her fair, moonlight beauty, looking like some stray angel +newly dropped in their midst. + +Gipsy led her guest to the upper end of the room, under a raised arch of +flowers that filled the air with fragrance. + +"Stay here until I come back for you," she whispered, as she turned, and +disappeared among the throng. + +Flitting hither and thither like a sunbeam, she paused until she +discovered Louis, with Minnette leaning on his arm, calling up the +smiles and blushes to her face at his all-powerful will. + +"Louis! Louis! come with me! I want you a moment. You'll excuse him, +Minnette, will you not?" said Gipsy. + +"Oh, certainly!" said Minnette, with a radiant look, little dreaming for +what purpose he was taken from her. + +Passing her arm through his, Gipsy led him to where he could obtain a +full view of Celeste, without being seen by her. + +"Look!" she said, pointing. + +He looked, started suddenly, and then stood like one transfixed, with +his eyes riveted to the glorious vision before him. + +She stood under the flowery canopy, robed in white, crowned with roses, +leaning against a marble statue of Hebe, herself a thousand times +lovelier than that exquisitely sculptured form and face. This was his +ideal, found at last--this the face and figure that had haunted his +dreams all his life, but had never been found before; just such an +angelic creature he had striven all his life to produce on canvas, and +always failed. He stood motionless, enchanted, drinking in to +intoxication the bewildering draught of her beauty. + +"Louis," said Gipsy, laying her hand on his arm. + +He heard not, answered not; he stood gazing like one chained to the +spot. + +"Louis," she said in a louder tone. + +Still she was unheeded, + +"Louis, you provoking wretch!" she said, giving him a shake. + +"Well?" he said, without removing his dazzled eyes from the vision +before him. + +"What do you think of her? Is she not lovely?" + +"Lovely!" he repeated, rousing himself from the trance into which he had +fallen. "Gipsy, she is _divine_. Do not praise her beauty; no words can +do it justice." + +"Whew!--caught already! There's love at first sight for you." + +"Gipsy, who is she--that vision of light--my life-dream--that I have +found at last?" + +"Then you don't know her? Bless your dear, innocent heart! that's +Celeste--your 'Star of the Valley,' you know!" + +"Yes, yes! I recognize her now--my Star of the Valley, rightly named. +Would she _were_ mine!" he added, in a lower tone. + +"Shall I present you?" + +"Does she know I am here?" + +"No; I didn't tell her a word about it." + +"Then leave me. I will present myself." + +"All right; that'll save me some trouble; and I hear somebody over there +singing out for Mrs. Wiseman. So _au revoir_, and Cupid be with you!" + +And, laughingly, Gipsy glided away, and Louis went up and stood before +Celeste. + +She looked up with a start, to find the handsomest man she had ever seen +in her life standing before her, gazing upon her with such a look of +intense admiration in his deep, dark eyes, that the blood rushed to her +cheek, and the white lids dropped over the shrinking blue eyes. Another +moment, and both her hands were clasped in his; while he cried, in a +voice that was low, but full of passion: + +"Celeste! Celeste! little sister!--do you not know me?" + +"Louis!" broke from her lips, in a wild exclamation of joy. + +"Yes, sweet sister, your boy-friend, Louis, home again." + +"Oh, Louis, I am _so_ glad!" she said, lifting her cloudless blue eyes +to his, radiant with delight. + +"Then you have not forgotten me? I feared you had," he said, bending +over her, and holding fast the little hand that lay imprisoned in his. + +"Forget you!--oh, no," she said, her heart fluttering wildly that moment +against a little golden cross--_his_ parting gift, which had lain on her +bosom all those years. + +There was a look of eager delight on his face at her words. She saw it, +and grew embarrassed. Withdrawing her hand from his, she said, in a more +composed voice: + +"When did you arrive?" + +"About a week ago. I would have gone to see you, but the weather was so +disagreeable," he replied, with a pang of regret and remorse for his +neglect. + +"Yes, so it was," said Celeste, sincerely; for, having no morbid +self-love to be wounded, his excuse seemed the most natural thing in the +world. + +"And how is my old friend, Miss Hagar?" he asked, drawing her arm within +his, and leading her toward the conservatory, now almost deserted. + +"Oh, quite well. She will be delighted to see you." + +"May I go and see her to-morrow, sweet Celeste?" + +"Certainly you may. We will _both_ be very glad to see you," answered +Celeste, delightedly. + +"She is certainly a paragon of simplicity. No woman of the world would +say that," thought Louis, as he glanced at her eager, happy face. + +An exclamation from Celeste attracted his attention. He looked up. Right +before him stood Minnette, with her glittering black eyes fixed upon +them with a look so fierce, so flamingly jealous, that he started back. + +"Why, Minnette, what is the matter? Are you ill?" asked Celeste, in +alarm. + +She would have turned away without answering; but the dark eye of Louis +was upon her, and she replied, coldly: + +"I am perfectly well. Excuse me; I fear I have interrupted a pleasant +_tete-a-tete_." + +And, with one fierce, scorching glance at Celeste, she turned, and +hurried away. + +Celeste shuddered; something in the dark, passionate face of Minnette +frightened her. Her companion perceived it--well he understood the +cause; and with matchless tact he drew her mind from the subject to fix +it on himself. + +During the evening he devoted himself assiduously to Celeste. With her +he danced; on his arm she leaned in the promenade; by his side she sat +at table. Standing alone and neglected by herself, Minnette saw it all; +and, had looks power to kill, those flaming glances of fire would have +stricken her rival dead. + +It was near morning when the party broke up. Celeste--who always shared +Gipsy's room when at the Hall--sought her couch, and soon closed her +weary blue eyes in blissful slumbers. + +That night, in the dreams of Louis, the dark, resplendent face of +Minnette was forgotten for a white-robed vision with a haunting pair of +blue eyes. And Minnette--in the calm light of the stars, she trod up and +down her apartment until morning broke over the hill-tops, with a wild +anguish at her heart she had never before known. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +"THE OLD, OLD STORY." + + + "I have loved thee, thou gentlest, from a child, + And borne thine image with me o'er the sea-- + Thy soft voice in my soul! Speak! oh, yet live for me!" + --HEMANS. + +A gay party gathered around the breakfast-table at Sunset Hall the next +morning. + +There was Mrs. Oranmore--fair, fragile, but still pretty; then Mrs. +Gower, over-shadowing the rest with her large proportions until they all +shrank into skeletons beside her, with the exception of the squire, who +was in a state of roaring good humor. There was Mrs. Doctor Nicholas +Wiseman--our own little Gipsy--as usual, all life, bustle and gayety, +keeping up a constant fire of repartee--laughing and chatting +unceasingly, poor little elf! to drown thought. + +Then there was Louis--gay, gallant and handsome--setting himself and +everybody else at ease by his stately courtesy and polished manners. By +his side sat our favorite Celeste, fair and fresh, and bright as a +rosebud, smiling and blushing at the compliments showered upon her. And +last, there sat Minnette, pale, and cold, and silent, with the long, +black lashes falling over her eyes to hide the dusky fire that filled +them. + +"I wish you would stay all day with us, Celeste," said Mrs. Oranmore. "I +always feel twice as well when I can look upon your bright face. It +seems to me you must have drank at the fountain of beauty and youth." + +"In that I agree with you, madam," said Louis. + +Minnette bit her lip till the blood started. + +"Oh! I really cannot stay, Mrs. Oranmore," said Celeste, blushing +vividly. "Miss Hagar is always very lonely during my absence; and +besides----" + +"You are engaged to make gowns and nightcaps for all the old women of +the parish! I know all about it," broke in Gipsy. "Formerly _I_ used to +be prime favorite in St. Mark's; but since our return from school I am +thrown aside like an old shoe, to make room for your ladyship. I'll +leave it to the world in general if I wasn't quoted as an oracle on +every occasion. There wasn't a baby spanked, nor an old dress turned +upside down, but I was consulted about it. Now, just look at the +difference; it's Miss Celeste here, and Miss Celeste there, and Miss +Celeste everywhere; while I'm nothing but a poor, dethroned, +misfortunate little wretch! I won't put up with it--I just won't. I'll +leave it to my daughter-in-law over there, if it isn't unbearable." + +"Ha, ha, ha! What do you say, Miss Wiseman?" said the squire, laughing. + +"I know nothing about it," coldly replied Minnette. + +"And care less, I suppose," said Gipsy. "That's just the way! Even my +own children treat me with disrespect. Well, never mind; perhaps the +tables will turn yet." + +"I am to attend you home, am I not, Celeste?" said Louis, in a low +voice, as they arose from the table. + +"I am sure I do not know. I suppose you may, if you wish," she replied, +ingenuously. + +"Oh, go, by all means," said Gipsy, who overheard them. "Anything to +keep them away from Minnette," she muttered inwardly. + +Accordingly, shortly after the carriage was brought round. Louis handed +Celeste in, took the reins, and drove off, unconscious that Minnette, +from her chamber window, was watching them, with a look that would have +appalled him had he seen it. + +That drive home--to what an unheard-of length was it prolonged! Had he +been training his horses for a funeral, Louis could not have driven them +slower. He had so many things to tell her; wild yet beautiful German +legends--of the glorious skies of glorious Italy--of the vine-clad hills +of sunny Spain--of gay, gorgeous Paris--and of the happy homes of +"merrie England." And Celeste, lying back among the cushions, with +half-closed eyes, drank in his low-toned, eloquent words--listened to +the dangerous music of his voice--with a feeling unspeakably delicious, +but hitherto unknown. She saw not the burning glances of his dark eyes, +as they rested on her fair face, but yielded herself up to his magnetic +influence without attempting to analyze her feelings. + +They reached Valley Cottage all too soon. Louis handed her out, and +entered the cottage after her. + +Miss Hagar sat in her old seat, as though she had never moved from it. + +"Good-morning, dear Miss Hagar," said Celeste, kissing her so +affectionately that Louis inwardly wished he could become an old woman +forthwith. "See--I have brought a stranger home with me." + +Louis stood smiling before her. She raised her solemn, prophetic gray +eyes to his face, with a long, earnest gaze. + +"Louis Oranmore!" she exclaimed--"welcome home!" + +He raised the withered hand she extended so respectfully to his lips +that a radiant glance of gratitude from the blue eyes of Celeste +rewarded him. + +How that morning slipped away, Louis could never tell; but seated, +talking to Miss Hagar, with his eyes fixed on the rosy fingers of +Celeste flying with redoubled velocity to make up for what was lost, he +"took no note of time," until the little clock on the mantel struck two. + +"By Jove! so it is!" exclaimed Louis, horrified at his prolonged visit. +"What will they think of me at home?" + +"Stay and take dinner with us," said Miss Hagar, hospitably. + +He hesitated, and glanced at Celeste. + +"Pray do," she said, lifting her sunshiny face with an enchanting smile. + +Inwardly rejoicing, he consented; and the long summer afternoon vanished +as the morning had done--unnoticed. + +"I fear your cottage is enchanted, Miss Hagar," he said, laughingly, as +he at last arose to go; "I find it next to impossible to tear myself +away from it. Or perhaps there is some magnet concealed that keeps +people here against their will." + +Miss Hagar smiled good-humoredly, and invited him to repeat his +visit--an invitation, it is unnecessary to say, the young gentleman +condescended to accept. + +Celeste accompanied him to the door. As they passed out, he said: + +"On this very spot we parted years ago. Do you remember that parting, +Celeste?" + +"Yes," she said, softly, while her fair face grew crimson as she +remembered how wildly she had wept and clung to his neck then. + +He read what was passing in her mind, and smiled slightly. + +"Your farewell gift, that shining ring of gold, I have kept ever since, +as a talisman against all evil," he said, with a slight twinge of +conscience as he remembered where it was--at the bottom of one of his +trunks, with some scores of other tresses, severed from other fair +heads, their owners long since forgotten. + +"I am glad you did not forget me during your absence," said Celeste, +feeling very much confused, and not knowing very well what she was +expected to reply. + +"Forget you, Celeste! Who could ever do so after beholding you once?" +Then, seeing how painfully she was embarrassed, he turned gayly away, +saying: "Good-bye, fairest Celeste! When shall we meet again?" + +"I know not. Next Sunday, at church, perhaps." + +"As if I could exist so long without seeing my fair Star of the Valley! +May I not come to-morrow, Celeste?" + +"Yes, if you will bring Gipsy." + +"Oh, never mind Gipsy! She will most probably be 'over the hills and far +away' long before I open my eyes on this mortal life in the morning. +Therefore, to-morrow will behold me once more by the side of my liege +lady." + +And bowing lightly, he sprang into the saddle and galloped off, followed +by Celeste's eyes until he was out of sight. + +The gloaming was falling when he reached Sunset Hall. He entered the +parlor. It was dark and untenanted, save by a slender, black-robed +figure, seated by the window, as motionless as a statue. It was +Minnette--her white hands clasped tightly together, and resting on the +window-sill, her forehead leaned upon them, her long black hair falling +in disorder over her shoulders. + +A pang of remorse shot through his heart at the sight of that despairing +figure. He went over and laid his hand gently on her arm. + +"Minnette!" he said, softly. + +At the sound of that loved voice, at the touch of that dear hand, she +started up, and, flinging back her long hair, confronted him, with such +a white, haggard face, such wild, despairing eyes, that involuntarily he +started back. + +"Dear Minnette, what is the matter?" he said, gently taking her hand. + +She wrenched it from his grasp, with a bitter cry, and sinking back into +a seat, covered her face with her hands. + +"Minnette, are you ill? What is the matter?" he asked, afraid to accept +the answer that his own heart gave. + +"The matter!" she cried, bitterly. "Oh, you may ask! _You_ do not know. +_You_ were not by my side from morning till night, whispering your wily +words into my ear, until this fair, this angelic, Celeste came! _You_ do +not know what it is to have led a cold, loveless life, until some one +came and won all the wealth of love that had all your days lain +dormant, and then cast it back as a worthless gift at your feet! _You_ +do not know what it is to discover first you have a heart by its aching! +Oh, no! All this is unknown to you. 'Ill!'" + +She laughed wildly. + +"Minnette! Minnette! do not talk so passionately! In the name of heaven, +what have I done?" + +"Done!" she repeated, springing fiercely to her feet. "No need to ask +what you have done! Was not this heart marble--harder than marble--ay, +or granite--till you came? Did you not read it as you would an open +book? Did you not strike the rock with a more powerful wand than that of +Moses, and did not all the flood of life and love spring forth at your +command? You never said in so many words: 'I love you.' Oh, no--you took +care not to commit yourself; but could I not read it in every glance of +your eye. Yes, deny it if you will, you _did_ love me, until this +fair-faced seraph--this 'stray angel,' as I heard you call her--came, +and then, for the first new face, I was cast aside as worthless. I was +too easy a conquest for this modern hero; and for this artful little +hypocrite--for her pink cheeks, her blue eyes, and yellow hair--the +heart that loves you ten thousand times more than she can ever do, is +trampled under foot! But I tell you to beware, Louis Oranmore; for if I +am a 'tigress,' as you often called me in my childhood, I can tear and +rend in pieces all those who will cause my misery." + +She looked like some beautiful fiend, in her fierce outburst of stormy +passion; her face livid, save two dark purple spots on either cheek; her +eyes flaming, blazing; her lips, white; her wild black hair falling like +a vail of darkness around her white face. + +"Minnette--_dear_ Minnette!"--like a magic spell his low-toned words +fell on her maddened spirit--"you are mistaken. I never loved you as +you fancy; I admired your beauty. I might have loved you, but I well +knew the fierce, jealous nature that lay smoldering in your heart, under +the living coals of your passions. Minnette, the woman I love must be +gentle and _womanly_, for that means all; the fawn, not the lioness, +suits me. Extremes meet, they say; and my own nature is too hot, +passionate, and fiery, ever to mate with a spirit like to itself. In +Celeste, gentle, tender, and dove-like--sit still, Minnette, you _must_ +hear me out." He held her down, writhing in anguish, by the force of his +stronger will. "In her, I say, I find all that I would ask of a woman. +Therefore my heart was drawn toward her. Had I found the same qualities +in you, I would have loved you, instead of her. And now, dear Minnette, +forgive me if I have occasioned you pain; but for your own peace of +mind, it was necessary that I should tell you this." + +She was quivering, writhing in intense anguish, crouching in her seat in +a strange, distorted attitude of utter despair. His eyes were full of +deep pity as he gazed upon her. + +"Minnette, do you forgive me?" he said, coming over and trying to raise +her head. + +"Oh, leave me--leave me!" was her reply, in a voice so full of intense +suffering that he started. + +"Only say you forgive me." + +"Never! May God never forgive me if I do!" she cried, with such +appalling fierceness that he quailed before her. "Leave me, I tell you!" +she cried, stamping her foot, "leave me before I go mad!" + +He quitted the room: and Minnette was alone, with her own uncontrolled +passions for company. The agony of ages seemed to be concentrated into +those moments; every fiber of her heart seemed tearing from its place, +and lay quivering and bleeding in her bosom. + + * * * * * + +Weeks passed. Day after day found Louis at Valley Cottage, reading and +talking, or walking with Celeste. And she--there was no mistaking that +quick flushing, that involuntary smile, that sudden brightening of the +eye, at the sound of his footstep or the tones of his voice. Yes, the +Star of the Valley was wooed and won. And all this time Minnette sat in +her own room, alone, wrapped in her own gloomy thoughts as in a +mantle--the same cold, impassible Minnette as ever. Yet there was a +lurid lightning, a blazing fire, at times, in her eye, that might have +startled any one had it been seen. + +One bright moonlight night in July Louis and Celeste were wandering +slowly along the rocky path leading to the cottage. Even in the +moonlight could be seen the bright flush that overspread her fair face, +as she listened, with drooping head and downcast eyes, to his low, +love-toned words. + +"And so you love me, my sweet Celeste, better than all the world?" he +asked softly. + +"Oh, yes!" was the answer, almost involuntarily breathed. + +"And you will be my wife, Celeste?" + +"Oh, Louis! Your grandfather will never consent." + +"And if he does not, what matter?" cried Louis, impetuously. "I am my +own master, and can marry whom I please." + +"Louis--Louis! do not talk so. I would never marry you against his +will." + +"You would not?" + +"No, certainly not. It would be wrong, you know." + +"Wrong! How would it be wrong, Celeste? I am sure my mother would not +object; and as for him, what right has he to interfere with my +marriage?" + +"Oh, Louis! you know he has a guardian's right--a parent's right--to +interfere. Besides," she added, blushing, "we are both too young to be +married. Time enough these seven years." + +"Seven years!" echoed Louis, laughing; "why, that would be as bad as +Jacob and--Rachel. Wasn't that the name? Come, my dear Celeste, be +reasonable. I cannot wait seven years, though very likely you could. +During all those long years of absence the remembrance of you has +cheered my loneliest hours. I looked forward impatiently to the time +when I might return and see my Star of the Valley again. And now that I +have come, you tell me to wait seven years! Say, Celeste, may I not ask +my grandfather--and if he consents, will you not be mine?" + +"I don't know--I'll think about it," said Celeste, timidly. + +"And I know how that thinking will end. Here we are at the cottage. +Good-night, my little white dove! To-morrow I will see you, and tell you +his decision." + +One parting embrace, and he turned away. Celeste stood watching him +until he was out of sight, then turned to enter the cottage. As she did +so, an iron grasp was laid on her shoulder, and a hoarse, fierce voice +cried: + +"Stop!" + +Celeste turned, and almost shrieked aloud, as she beheld Minnette +standing like a galvanized corpse before her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +THE RIVALS. + + + "All other passions have their hour of thinking, + And hear the voice of reason. This alone + Breaks at the first suspicion into frenzy, + And sweeps the soul in tempests."--SHAKESPEARE. + +For a moment the rivals stood silently confronting each other--Celeste +pale and trembling before that dark, passionate glance; Minnette white +and rigid, but with scorching, burning eyes. + +"Minnette, what is the matter?" said Celeste, at last finding voice. +"Good heavens! you look as though you were crazed." + +"Crazed!" hissed Minnette through her teeth. "You consummate little +hypocrite! Your conduct, no doubt, should make me very cool and +composed. Girl, I say to you, beware! Better for you you had never been +born, than live to cross my path!" + +Her voice was hoarse with concentrated passion--her small hands clenched +until the nails sank into the quivering flesh. With a shudder, Celeste +covered her face in her hands to shut out the scathing glance of those +dark, gleaming eyes. + +"Oh, Minnette!--dear Minnette!--do not look at me so. Your eyes kill +me," she said, with a shiver. + +"Would to Heaven they could!" fiercely exclaimed Minnette. + +"Oh, Minnette! what have I done? If I have injured you, I am very sorry. +Indeed, indeed, it was unintentional. I would sooner die than have any +one hate me!" said Celeste, clasping her hands imploringly. + +"Injured me!" almost shrieked Minnette, clutching her arm so fiercely, +that Celeste cried out with pain. "Injured me, did you say? Yes--the +greatest injury one woman can ever do another you have done me. From +early childhood you have crossed my path, and, under your artfully +assumed vail of simplicity, won the love of the only being under heaven +I ever cared for--won him with your silly smiles, your baby face, and +cowardly tears; you, a poor, nameless beggar--a dependent on the bounty +of others. _Hate you!_--yes, from the first moment I beheld you, I hated +you with an intensity you can never dream of until you feel the full +weight of my vengeance; for I tell you I will be avenged; yes, I would +peril my own soul, if by so doing I could wreak still more dire revenge +on your head. I tell you, you began a dangerous game when you trifled +with me. I am no sickly, sentimental fool, to break my heart and +die--no; I shall drag down with me all who have stood in my way, and +then die, if need be, gloating over the agonies I have made them suffer. +Beware, I tell you; for no tigress, robbed of her young, can be fiercer +than this newly awakened heart!" + +She hurled Celeste from her, as she ceased, with such violence, that she +reeled and fell; and, striking her head against a projecting stone, lay +for some minutes stunned and motionless. A dark stream of blood flowed +slowly from the wound; and Minnette stood gazing upon it with a fiendish +smile on her beautiful face. Slowly, and with difficulty, Celeste +arose--pressing her handkerchief to her face to stanch the flowing +blood; and, lifting her soft, pitying eyes to the wild, vindictive face +above her, she said: + +"Minnette, I forgive you. You are crazed, and know not what you do. +But, oh! Minnette, you wrong me. I never intentionally injured +you--never, as heaven is my witness! I have tried to love you as a +sister always. Never, never--by word, or thought, or deed--have I +willingly given you a moment's pain. I would sooner cut off my right +hand than offend you. Oh, Minnette! can we never be friends?" + +"Friends!" repeated Minnette, with a wild laugh; "yes, when the serpent +dwells with the dove; when the tiger mates with the lamb; when two +jealous women love each other--then we will be friends. Perjure yourself +not before me. Though an angel from heaven were to descend to plead for +you, I would neither forgive you nor believe your words." + +"What have I done to make you hate me so?" + +"You brazen hypocrite! do you dare to ask me what you have done? _He_ +did, too! A precious pair of innocents, both of you!" said Minnette, +with her bitter, jeering laugh. "Little need to tell you what you have +done. Did you not win the love of Louis Oranmore from me by your +skillful machinations? He loved me before he saw you. You knew it; and +yet, from the very first moment you beheld him, you set to work to make +him hate me. Do not deny it, you barefaced, artful impostor! Did I not +hear you both to-night?--and was not the demon within me prompting me to +spring forward and stab you both to the heart? But my vengeance, though +delayed, shall be none the less sure, and, when the time comes, woe to +you and to him; for if I must perish, I shall not perish alone." + +During this fierce, excited speech--every word of which had stabbed her +to the heart--Celeste had staggered against a tree; and, covering her +face with her hands, stood like one suddenly pierced by a sword; every +word burned into her very brain like fire, as she stood like one +fainting--dying. By a great effort, she crushed back the flood of her +emotions; and when Minnette ceased, she lifted up her face--pale as +death, but firm and earnest. + +"Minnette Wiseman," she said, in a voice of gentle dignity, so unusual +to her that the dark, passionate girl gazed on her in astonishment, "as +heaven hears me, I am guilty of none of these things of which you accuse +me. If Louis Oranmore loved you, I knew it not, or I would not have +listened to him; if he won your heart, I dreamed not of it, or he should +never have won mine. I thought you loved no one but yourself. I +never--never dreamed you cared for him. For all the misery he has caused +us both, may heaven forgive him, as I do! If he loved you first, you +have a prior claim to his heart. I will tell him so to-morrow, and never +listen to him more." + +She strove to speak calmly to the end; but at the last her voice died +away in a low tone of utter despair. + +"Bah! your acting disgusts me!" exclaimed Minnette, contemptuously. "Do +you not suppose I can see through this vail with which you would blind +my eyes? You will tell him to-morrow, forsooth! Yes, you will tell him I +came here to abuse you, and strike you, and load you with vile epithets, +and with what saint-like patience you bore them. You will represent +yourself as such an injured innocent, and I as a monster of cruelty; you +will tell him, when I smote you on one cheek, how you turned the other. +Faugh! do not make me despise you as well as hate you." + +"You cannot despise me, Minnette; you know you cannot," said Celeste, +with something like indignation in her gentle voice, as her +truth-beaming eye met undauntedly the flashing orbs before her. "You +know I have spoken the truth. You know in your own heart I am no +hypocrite. Hate me if you will--I cannot prevent you; but you shall not +despise me. I have never intentionally wronged you, and I never will. If +Louis Oranmore loves you as you say, I wish you both all happiness. I +shall no longer stand between you and his heart." + +"Oh! wonderful heroism!" cried Minnette, in bitter mockery. "You can +well afford to say you give him up, when you know he loves me no longer; +when you know you have surely and unalterably won him to yourself. Well +do you know this pretended self-denial of yours will elevate you a +thousand times higher still in his estimation, and make him love you far +more than ever before. Oh! you have learned your trade of deception +well. Pity all cannot see through it as I do. Think not to deceive me as +you have done so many others; I, at least, can see your shallow, +selfish, cold-blooded heart." + +"I will not stay to listen to your words, Minnette; they are too +dreadful. Some day, perhaps, you will discover how you have wronged me. +I am not deceiving you; he _must_ give me up if what you say be true. I +will even go away if you wish it--anywhere, so that you may be +satisfied. I will write and tell him, and never see him more, if that +will satisfy you." Her voice faltered a little, but she went on; "I will +do anything--anything, Minnette, if you will only not call me such +terrible things. It is fearful--horrible, to be hated so without cause." + +Minnette did not speak, but glared upon her with her burning, flaming +eyes. Two dark purple spots--now fading, now glowing vividly out--burned +on either cheek; otherwise, no snow-wreath was ever whiter than her +face. Her teeth were set hard; her hands tightly clenched; her dark +brows knit, as though about to spring upon the speaker and rend her to +pieces. She made one step toward her. With a piercing cry of terror, +Celeste sprang away, darted through the garden gate, flew up the narrow +path, burst into the cottage, closed and bolted the door, and sank, +panting and almost fainting, on the ground. + +"Good heavens! child, what is the matter?" asked Miss Hagar, rising, in +alarm. + +"Oh! save me--save me from her!" was all Celeste could utter. + +"Save you from whom? Who are you speaking of? Who has frightened you +so?" inquired Miss Hagar, still more astonished. + +Celeste slowly rose from the ground, without speaking. Consciousness was +beginning to return, but she was still stunned and bewildered. + +"Merciful Father!" cried Miss Hagar, as Celeste turned toward the light, +"what has happened?" + +And truly she might exclaim, at beholding that deadly paleface--those +wild, excited eyes--the disheveled golden hair--the blood-stained, and +torn and disordered dress. + +"Nothing! oh, nothing, nothing!" said Celeste, passing her hand slowly +over her eyes, as if to clear away a mist, and speaking in a slow, +bewildered tone. + +"But, child, there is something the matter!" insisted Miss Hagar. "You +look as though you were crazed, and your face is stained with blood." + +"Is it? I had forgotten," said Celeste, pushing her hair vacantly off +her wounded forehead. "It is nothing at all, though. I do not feel it." + +"But how did it happen?" + +"Oh!--why, I was frightened, and ran, and fell," said Celeste, scarcely +knowing what she said. + +"What was it frightened you?" pursued Miss Hagar, wondering at her +strange manner. + +Celeste, without reply, sank upon a seat and pressed her hands to her +throbbing temples to collect her scattered thoughts. She felt sick and +dizzy--unable to think and speak coherently. Her head ached with the +intensity of her emotions; and her eyes felt dry and burning. Her brow +was hot and feverish with such violent and unusual excitement. Her only +idea was to get away--to be alone--that she might collect her wandering +senses. + +"Miss Hagar," she said, rising, "I cannot tell you what has happened. I +must be alone to-night. To-morrow, perhaps, I will tell you all." + +"Any time you please, child," said Miss Hagar, kindly. "Go to your room +by all means. Good-night." + +"Good-night!" said Celeste, taking her lamp and quitting the room. + +She staggered as she walked. On reaching her room she set the lamp on +the table, and entwined her arms above her head, which dropped heavily +upon it. Unaccustomed to excitement of any kind, she felt more as if +heart and brain were on fire. Loving Louis with the strong affection of +her loving heart, the sudden disclosure and jealous fury of Minnette +stunned and stupefied her for a time. So she lay for nearly an hour, +unable to think or realize what had happened--only conscious of a dull, +dreary pain at her heart. Then the mist slowly cleared away from her +mental vision--the fierce words of Minnette danced in red, lurid letters +before her eyes. She started to her feet, and paced her chamber wildly. + +"Oh! why am I doomed to make others miserable?" she cried, wringing her +hands. "Oh, Louis, Louis! why have you deceived me thus? What have I +done that I should suffer such misery? But it is wrong to complain. I +must not, will not murmur. I will not reproach him for what he has done, +but try to forget him. May he be as happy with Minnette as I would have +striven to render him! To-morrow I will see him, and return all the +gifts cherished for his sake; to-morrow I will bid him a last adieu; +to-morrow--but, oh! I cannot--I cannot!" she exclaimed, passionately. "I +cannot see him and bid him go. Oh, Father of the fatherless! aid me in +my anguish!" + +She fell on her knees by the bedside, and a wild, earnest prayer broke +from her tortured lips. + +By degrees she grew calm; her wild excitement died away; the scorching +heat left her brain, and blessed tears came to her aid. Long and +bitterly she wept; long and earnestly she prayed--no longer as one +without hope, but trustful and resigned, bending her meek head to the +blow of the chastening rod. + +She arose from her knees, pale, but calm and resigned. + +"I will not see him," she murmured. "Better for us both I should never +see him again! I will write--I will tell him all--and then all that is +past must be forgotten. In the creature I was forgetting the Creator; +for the worship of God I was substituting the worship of man; and my +Heavenly Father, tempering justice with mercy, has lifted me from the +gulf into which I was falling, and set me in the narrow way once more. +Henceforth, no earthly idol shall fill my heart; to Him alone shall it +be consecrated; and I will live on in the hope that there is yet 'balm +in Gilead' for me." + +It was very easy to speak thus, in the sudden reaction from despair to +joy--very easy to talk in this way in the excitement of the moment, +after her heart had been relieved by tears. She thought not of the weary +days and nights in the future, that would seem to have no end, when her +very soul would cry out in wild despair for that "earthly idol" again. + +And full of her resolution, with cheeks and eyes glowing with the light +of inspiration, she sat down at the table, and, drawing pen and paper +before her, began to write. + +A long, earnest, eloquent letter it was. She resigned him forever, +bidding him be happy with Minnette, and forget and forgive her, and +breathing the very soul of sisterly love and forgiveness. Page after +page was filled, while her cheek flushed deeper, and her eyes grew +brighter, and her pen flew on as if inspired. + +There, in the holy seclusion of her chamber, in the solemn stillness of +night, she made the total renunciation of him she loved best on earth, +scarcely feeling now she had lost him, in the lofty exaltation of her +feelings. + +It was finished at last. The pen dropped from her hand, and she arose to +seek for the few gifts he had ever given her. A little golden locket, +containing his likeness and a lock of his hair; her betrothal-ring; and +the oft-mentioned gold cross. That was all. + +She opened the likeness, and through all her heroism a wild, sharp +thrill of anguish pierced her heart, as she gazed on those calm, +beautiful features. The sable ring of hair twined itself round her +fingers as though unwilling to leave her; but resolutely she replaced +it, and drew off the plain gold circlet of their betrothal, and laid +them side by side. Then her cross--it had never left her neck since the +night he had placed it there. All the old tide of love swelled back to +her heart as she gazed upon it. It seemed like rending her very +heart-strings to take it off. + +"I cannot! I cannot!" was her anguished cry, as her arm dropped +powerless on the table. + +"You must! you must! it is your duty!" cried the stern voice of +conscience; and, with trembling fingers and blanched lips, the precious +token was removed and laid beside the others. + +Then, sealing them up, with one last, agonizing look, such as we might +bestow on the face of a dear friend about to be consigned to the grave, +she sealed and directed the packet, and then threw herself on her bed +and pressed her hands over her eyes to hide out the face of her dead. + +But in spite of sorrow, sleep _will_ visit the afflicted, and a bright +morning sunbeam fell like a halo on her pale face, calm in sleep, and on +the golden eyelashes, still wet with undried tear-drops. + +That same broad July sunbeam fell on Minnette lying prone on her face in +the damp pine woods, her long, black hair and dark garments dropping +with the soaking dew. The dark, lonely woods had been her couch the +livelong night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +GIPSY HUNTS NEW GAME. + + + "And by the watch-fire's gleaming light, + Close by his side was seen + A huntress maid in beauty bright + With airy robes of green."--SCOTT. + +It was early afternoon of that same day on which the events related in +the last chapter occurred. Squire Erliston, in after-dinner mood, sat in +his arm-chair; Louis lay idly on a lounge at a little distance, and +Gipsy sat by the window, yawningly turning over a volume of prints. Mrs. +Oranmore, swathed in shawls, lounged on her sofa, her prayerbook in her +hand, taking a succession of short naps. + +It was the squire's custom to go to sleep after dinner; but now, in his +evident excitement, he seemed quite to forget it altogether. + +"Yes, sir," he was saying to Louis, "the scoundrel actually entered the +sheriff's house through the window, and carried off more than a hundred +dollars, right under their very noses. It's monstrous!--it's outrageous! +He deserves to be drawn and quartered for his villainy! And he will be, +too, if he's taken. The country 'll soon be overrun with just such +rascals, if the scoundrel isn't made an example of." + +"Of whom are you speaking, papa?" inquired Lizzie, suddenly walking up. + +"Of one of Drummond's negroes--a perfect ruffian; Big Tom, they call +him. He's fled to the woods, and only makes his appearance at night. He +stabbed young Drummond himself; and since then, he's committed all sorts +of depredations. Simms, the sheriff, came down yesterday with constables +to arrest them; and during the night, the scoundrel actually had the +audacity to enter the sheriff's window, and decamped with a hundred +dollars before they could take him. He met one of the constables in the +yard as he was going out. The constable cried 'murder,' and seized him; +but Big Tom--who is a regular giant--just lifted him up and hurled him +over the wall, where he fell upon a heap of stones, breaking his +collar-bone, two of his legs, 'and the rest of his ribs,' as Solomon +says. The constable's not expected to live; and Big Tom got off to his +den in safety with his booty." + +"Why do they not scour the woods in a body?" inquired Louis. + +"So they did; but--bless your soul!--it's like looking for a needle in a +hay-stack--couldn't find him anywhere." + +"Oh! it was capital fun!" said Gipsy, laughing, "it reminded me of +'hide-and-go-seek' more than anything else. Once or twice they caught +sight of me through the bushes, and taking me for poor Tom, came pretty +near firing on me. Simms made them stop, and called to me to surrender +to the law, or I'd repent it. Accordingly, I surrendered, and rode out, +and--my goodness!--if they didn't look blue when they saw me! I burst +right out laughing in their face, and made Simms so mad that I guess he +wished he had let his men shoot me. Oh! didn't I have a jolly time, +though! I took them, by various artifices, miles out of their +way--generally leaving them half-swamped in a bog, or in some pathless +part of the woods--until Simms lost all patience, and swore till he was +black in the face, and rode home in a towering passion, all covered with +mud, and his fine city clothes torn to tatters. Ha, ha, ha! I guess I +enjoyed it, if they didn't." + +"As mischievous as ever!" exclaimed the squire. "Pretty way, that, to +treat the officers of the law in the discharge of their duty! How will +you like it, if that black demon comes here some night, and murders us +all in our beds?" + +Lizzie uttered a stifled shriek at the idea. + +"I'm sure I'll be glad of it, if he only murders Spider first, and so +save me the trouble," said Gipsy. + +"You're an affectionate wife, 'pon my word," muttered Louis. + +"Yes; but it's just like the diabolical young imp," growled the squire. + +"Thank you--you're complimentary," muttered Gipsy. + +"Mind you," continued the squire, "while Big Tom's at liberty you must +leave off your rides through the woods and over the hills--because he +might be the death of you at any moment." + +"More likely I'd be the death of him. I never was born to be killed by a +ruffian." + +"No; for if the gallows had its dues----" + +"You wouldn't be here to-day," interrupted Gipsy. + +"Come--don't interrupt me, young woman. I positively forbid you or any +one in this place riding out while Big Tom's roaming about." + +"That's right, Guardy--show your authority. Nothing like keeping it up, +you know. And now, as I'm off to give Mignonne an airing, I'll think of +your commands by the way." + +And the disobedient elf arose to leave the room. + +"But, my dear, tantalizing little coz, it really is dangerous," +interrupted Louis. "If you were to encounter this gigantic negro, alone, +it would be rather a serious affair, I'm afraid." + +"Bother!" exclaimed the polite and courteous Mrs. Wiseman. "Do you +s'pose I'm afraid--Gipsy Gower afraid! Whew! I like that! Make your mind +easy, my dear Louis. I could face a regiment on Mignonne's back without +flinching." + +And Gipsy darted off to don her riding-habit, singing as she went: + + "Some love to roam + O'er the dark sea foam, + Where the shrill winds whistle free; + But a chosen band + In the mountain land, + And a life in the woods for me." + +Ten minutes afterward they saw her ride out of the court-yard at her +usual furious rate, and dash away over the hills, where she was speedily +out of sight. + +Gipsy must have had some of the Arab in her nature; for she spent almost +her whole life on horseback. She heeded not the flight of time, as she +thundered along, riding in the most hazardous places--sometimes +narrowly escaping being dashed to pieces over precipices--sometimes +leaping yawning chasms that would make many a stout hunter's head giddy. +The excitement was a part--a necessity--of her nature. The almost +stagnant life in the village would have driven the hot-headed, impetuous +girl wild, but for the mad excitement of the chase. Brave as a young +lioness--bold and free as the eagle of her native mountains--she scorned +fear, and sought danger as others do safety. She knew it was putting her +head into the lion's mouth to venture alone into this wild, unfrequented +region, within arm's length of a desperate villain, hunted down like a +furious beast; yet the idea of not venturing here never once entered her +mad little head. + +It was growing dark before Gipsy began to think of turning her steps +homeward. Reluctantly she turned her horse's head, and set out for Mount +Sunset--half regretting she had met with no adventure worth relating on +her return. + +As she rapidly galloped along she discovered she had ridden much farther +than she had intended, and that it would be late ere she reached the +hall. The dim starlight alone guided her path; for the moon had not yet +risen. But Mignonne was so well accustomed to the road that he could +have found his way in the dark; and Gipsy rode on gayly, humming to +herself a merry hunting-chorus. + +Suddenly a gleam of light from between the trees flashed across their +path. Mignonne, like his mistress, being only a half-tamed thing at +best, reared suddenly upright, and would have dashed off at headlong +speed, had not Gipsy held the reins with a grasp of iron. Her strength +was wonderful for a creature so small and slight; but her vigorous +exercise had given her thews and muscles of steel. Mignonne felt he was +in the hand of a master-spirit, and after a few fierce bounds and +plunges, stood still and surrendered. + +Rapidly alighting, Gipsy bound her horse securely, and then stole +noiselessly through the trees. The cause of the light was soon +discovered; and Gipsy beheld a sight that, daring and fearless as she +was, for a moment froze the very blood in her veins. + +A small semicircle was before her, in the center of which the remains of +a fire still glowed, casting a hot, reddish glare around. By its lurid +light the huge figure of a gigantic negro, whose hideous face was now +frightfully convulsed with rage. On her knees at his feet was a woman, +whom he grasped with one hand by the throat, and with the other +brandished over her head a long, murderous knife. The sight for a moment +left Gipsy's eyes, and her very heart ceased beating. Then, with the +rapidity of lightning, she drew a pistol, aimed and fired. + +One second more and she would have been too late. With the shriek of a +madman the huge negro leaped into the air, and bounded to where she +stood. She turned to fly, but ere she had advanced a yard she was in the +furious grasp of the wounded monster. His red eyes were like balls of +fire, he foamed, he roared with rage and pain, as with one huge hand he +raised the slight form of Gipsy to dash out her brains. + +In that moment of deadly peril the brave girl was as cool and +self-possessed as though she were seated in safety in her guardian's +parlor. A gleaming knife was stuck in his belt. Quick as thought she +drew it out, and, concentrating all her strength, she plunged it in his +breast. + +The hot blood spurted in a gush up in her face. Without a cry the +ruffian reeled, his hand relaxed, and Gipsy sprang from his grasp just +as he fell heavily to the ground. + +Gipsy staggered against a tree, with a deadly inclination to swoon +coming over her. She covered her face with her hands to hide the ghastly +form of the huge negro, lying weltering in his own blood before her. She +had taken a life; and though it was done in self-defense, and to save +the life of another, it lay on her heart like lead. + +The thought of that other at length aroused her to action. Darting +through the trees she approached the fire. The woman lay on the ground, +senseless, and half strangled. The firelight, as it fell upon her, +showed the face and form of an old woman, upward of fifty, poorly clad, +and garments half torn off in the scuffle. + +The sight restored Gipsy to her wonted composure. Kneeling down, she +began chafing the old woman's hands and temples with an energy that soon +restored her to consciousness. She opened her eyes and glared for a +moment wildly around; then, as consciousness returned, she uttered +shriek upon shriek, making the forest resound. + +"Stop your screaming," said Gipsy, shaking her in her excitement. +"You're safe enough now. Stop, will you. I tell you you're safe." + +"Safe!" repeated the woman, wildly. "Oh, that drefful nigger----" + +"He won't hurt you any more. Stop your noise, and get up, and come with +me!" said Gipsy, impatiently. + +"Oh! Lor' a massey! I can't git up. I'm all out o' j'int. I'm dead +entirely!" groaned the woman. + +"Then I shall leave you here," said Gipsy, rising. + +"Oh, don't leave me!--don't, for God's sake! I'd die o' fear!" screamed +the woman, grasping Gipsy's dress. + +"Then, you stupid old thing, get up and come along," cried Gipsy, losing +all patience, as she seized her with no gentle hand, and pulled her to +her feet. + +"Where 'll I go?" said the poor old creature, trembling with mortal +terror, evidently as much afraid of the fierce little Amazon before her, +as of the huge negro. + +"This way," said Gipsy, pulling her along to where stood her horse. +"Now, get up there, and put your arms around my waist, and hold on for +your life." + +"Oh! dear me! I never rid a horseback in my life, and I'll fall off--I +know I will!" said the old woman, wringing her hands in fresh distress. + +"Well, I can't help it; you'll have to make the attempt, or stay here +till I reach St. Mark's, and rouse up the people. Which will you do?" + +"Oh! I dassent stay. I'll go 'long with you, somehow." + +"Very well. Up with you then," said Gipsy, almost lifting her into the +saddle. "Now, I'll get on before you, and mind, if you don't hold on +well, you'll never reach the village alive." + +With the clutch of mortal fear, the old lady grasped Gipsy round the +waist, and held on for dear life, until Mount Sunset was gained, when, +more dead than alive, she was assisted to alight, and consigned to the +care of the servants. + +Louis, who had just returned from his interview with Celeste, was in the +parlor with the squire, meditating how he should make his proposal, when +Gipsy, pale, wild, and disordered, her hair disheveled, and her garments +dyed with blood, burst in upon them, electrifying them with amazement. + +Great was their consternation as they listened to the rapidly-told +tale. There was no time left to congratulate her on her narrow escape, +for she impetuously commanded Louis to mount immediately and take three +or four of the servants to bring away the body. + +With a rapidity almost as great as her own, her counsels were obeyed, +and Gipsy, with Louis beside her, started back to the scene of the +catastrophe, followed by four of the servants. + +They reached the spot at last, and Gipsy drew back in dismay as she +discovered the body was gone. + +"Who can have carried it off?" she exclaimed, aghast. + +"I rather think he has carried himself off," said Louis, who had been +attentively examining the ground. + +"Oh, impossible! He was dead, I tell you--just as _dead_ as ever he +could be," said Gipsy. + +"Well, dead or not, he has made his escape," said Louis. "See, the grass +is dyed with blood all along, showing the way he has gone. Come, the +trail is plain enough, let us follow it." + +All dismounted and followed Louis. Not far had they to go, for lying by +the fire was the burly form of the negro. He had evidently, with much +difficulty, dragged himself thus far, and then sank down exhausted. + +He rolled his glaring eyes fiercely on the faces bending over him, and +gnashed his teeth in impotent rage as he saw Gipsy. + +"Thank God! I have not killed him!" was her first fervent ejaculation. +Then, while Louis and the servants began making a sort of litter, she +knelt beside him, and strove to stanch the flowing blood, undeterred by +the wild, ferocious glare of his fiery eyes. + +"Now, Tom, look here," said Gipsy, as she composedly went on with her +work, "there's no use in your looking daggers at me that way, because it +don't alarm me a bit. You needn't be mad at me either, for though I +fired on you first, it was to save the life of an old woman, who might +have been a loss to the world; and if I made use of your knife +afterward, it was to save the life of Mrs. Doctor Nicholas Wiseman, who +would have been a greater loss still. So you see I couldn't help myself, +and you may as well look at the matter in the same light." + +By this time the rest came back with a sort of litter; and groaning and +writhing with pain, the heavy form of the wounded giant was lifted on +their shoulders, and borne toward the village, where it was consigned to +the care of the sheriff, who was thunderstruck when he heard of Gipsy's +daring. + +On their return to Sunset Hall, they learned from the old woman, who +seemed threatened with a severe illness, how it had all occurred. + +She was a "poor, lone woman," she said--a widow, named Mrs. Donne, +living by herself for ten odd years, in a little cottage beyond St. +Mark's. + +She was reputed to be rich--a rumor she never contradicted, as it made +her neighbors treat her with distinction, in the hope that she would +remember them in her will. + +Big Tom, hearing the rumor, and believing it, came to her cottage, and +demanded money. She had none to give him, and told him so, which +exasperated him beyond measure. He threatened to kill her if she +persisted in refusing, and gagged her to stifle her cries. Then, finding +her still obstinate, he carried her off with him to the spot where Gipsy +had found them, and again offered her her life if she would deliver up +her money. Still she was forced to refuse, and maddened with rage and +disappointment, he was about to murder her, when Gipsy providentially +appeared, and saved her life. + +Not without many interruptions was this story told; and ere it was +concluded, Mrs. Donne was in a high fever. Gipsy installed herself as +nurse, and listened in wonder and surprise to her raving of infants left +to perish in snow-storms, and her wild words of sorrow and remorse for +some past crime. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +CELESTE'S TRIAL. + + + "This morn is merry June, I trow, + The rose is budding fain; + But she shall bloom in winter snow, + Ere we two meet again. + He turned his charger as he spoke, + Upon the river shore; + He gave the reins a shake, and said, + Adieu forevermore, + My love! + Adieu forevermore." + +"Marry Celeste Pearl!--a girl without a farthing! a beggar! a foundling! +I'm astonished, thunderstruck, _speechless_, sir, at your audacity in +proposing such a thing! I _have_ objections, sir--most _de_-cided +objections, sir! Don't ever let me hear you mention such a thing again!" + +And Squire Erliston stamped up and down, red with rage and indignation. + +Louis stood with darkening brows, flashing eyes, and folded arms, before +him--outwardly quiet, but compressing his lips to keep down the fiery +tide of his rising passion. + +"What are your objections, sir?" he asked, with forced calmness. + +"Objections! Why, sir, there's so many objections that I can't enumerate +them. First place, she hasn't a cent; second, nobody knows who or what +she is; third, she'll never do for my granddaughter-in-law. Therefore, +sir, please drop the subject; I never want to hear anything more about +it--for I shouldn't consent if you were to plead on your knees. The +girl's a good girl enough in her place, but she won't do for the wife of +Louis Oranmore. What, sir, consent that you, the heir to the richest +landed estate this side the north pole, should marry a poor, unknown +beggar-girl, who has lived all her life on the charity of others! No, +sir, never!" said the squire, furiously, flinging himself into his +chair, and mopping his inflamed visage. + +The face of Louis was white with suppressed rage, and with an expression +of ungovernable anger, he burst from the room. In his fierce excitement +he saw not whither he went, until he ran full against Totty, who was +entering, with a letter in her hand. + +"Lor', Mas'r Lou, how you scare me! You like to knock me upside down. +Hi! here's a 'pistle for you, what Curly, old Miss Ager's gal, brought +over, an' told me her young Miss 'Sless sent you." + +"From Celeste," exclaimed Louis, snatching it from her hand and tearing +it open. His gifts fell to the floor; and scarcely able to believe his +senses, he read its contents--his brow growing darker and darker as he +read. He crushed it fiercely in his hand as he finished, and paced up +and down the long hall like a madman. + +"And such is woman's love!" he exclaimed, with a scornful laugh. "She +gives me up, and bids me be happy with Minnette. What drove that +jealous girl to love me; and to make Celeste believe I loved her first? +Everything seems to cross my path--this mad girl's passion, and my +grandfather's obstinate refusal. Well, she shall be mine, in spite of +fate. I will marry her privately, and take her with me to Italy. Yes, +that is the only plan. I will ride over to the cottage, and obtain her +consent; and then, let those I leave behind do as they will, my +happiness will be complete." + +So saying, he quitted the house, mounted his horse, and rode rapidly +toward the cottage. + +Celeste was in the garden, binding up a broken rose-bush--looking paler, +but lovelier than ever. She uttered a half-stifled cry as she saw him, +and the last trace of color faded from her face as he leaped from his +horse and stood beside her. + +"Celeste, what means this?" he demanded, impetuously. "Do you really +believe this tale told you by Minnette?" + +"Oh, Louis, is it not true?" exclaimed Celeste, clasping her hands. + +"True! Celeste, Celeste! do you take me to be such a villain? As heaven +hears me, I never spoke a word of love to her in my life!" + +This was true in the letter, but not in the spirit. He had never +_spoken_ of love to Minnette, but he had _looked_ it often enough. + +"Thank heaven!" exclaimed Celeste, impulsively, while she bowed her face +in her hands and wept. + +"Dear Celeste," said Louis, drawing her gently toward him, "do you +retract those cruel words you have written? You will not give me up, +will you?" + +"Oh, no! not _now_," replied Celeste, yielding to his embrace. "Oh, +Louis, what do you suppose made Minnette say such dreadful things to me +last night?" + +"Because--I beg you will not think me conceited, dearest--she fancies +she loves me, and is jealous of you. Perhaps, too, she thinks if I did +not love you, I might return her affection; and the only way to end her +chimerical hopes is by our immediate union. Say, dear love, when will +you be mine?" + +"Oh, Louis! I do not know," said Celeste, blushing scarlet. "I do not +want to be married so soon, and--you must ask your grandfather." + +"I have asked him, dearest." + +"And he----" + +"_Refused!_ I knew it would be so. He is obstinate and eccentric. But, +Celeste, his refusal need make no difference to us." + +She raised her blue eyes to his face, with a look of unconcealed wonder. + +"We can be privately wedded, and I will take you with me to Europe, +where we will reside until I have succeeded in pacifying the squire with +my course." + +She stood before him, looking calmly and gravely in his face. His voice +was low, but full of passion, and he saw not that earnest, sorrowful +gaze. + +"Say, Celeste--dearest Celeste--do you consent?" he asked, his eyes +filled with fire, as he strove to clasp her. She shrank away, almost in +fear, and pushed back his hands. + +"Oh, Louis! don't, don't," she cried, sadly. + +"But you will consent? you will go with me?" he said, eagerly, +passionately. + +"Oh, no, no!--no, no! I cannot--it is impossible." + +"Impossible! _Why_, Celeste?" + +"It would be wrong." + +"Wrong! Because an old man objects to your want of fortune, it would be +wrong to marry me. Nonsense, Celeste!" + +"It would be wrong to disobey your grandfather, Louis." + +"Not in a case like this, Celeste. I am not bound to obey him when he is +unreasonable." + +"He is not unreasonable in this, Louis. It is very reasonable he should +wish you to marry one your equal in wealth and social position." + +"And would _you_ have me marry for wealth and social position, Celeste?" +he asked, reproachfully. + +"Oh! no, no! Heaven forbid! But I would not marry you against his will. +We can wait--a few years will not make much difference, dear Louis. We +are both young, and can afford to be patient." + +"Patience! Don't talk to me of patience!" he exclaimed, passionately. +"You never loved me; if you had you would not stand thus on a little +point of decorum. You are your own mistress--you have no parents to whom +you owe obedience; my mother is willing enough, and yet, because an old +man objects to your want of money, you stand there in your cold dignity, +and exhort me to be patient and wait. Celeste, I _will not_ wait. You +_must_ come with me to Italy!" + +But she only stood before him, pale and sad, but firm and unyielding. + +Long and eloquently he pleaded, passionately and vehemently he urged +her, but all in vain. She listened and answered by silence and tears, +but steadily and firmly refused to consent. + +"Well, Celeste, will you come?" he asked, at length, after a long and +earnest entreaty. + +"Louis, I cannot. Not even for your sake can I do what my conscience +tells me would be wrong. You say your grandfather has no right to +control you in your choice of a wife. It may be so; but even in that +case I would not marry you against his wishes. Perhaps I am proud and +sinful; but, Louis, I could never enter a family who would not be +willing to receive me. Besides, my duty is here with Miss Hagar. If I +were to marry you, what would become of her, alone and childless. No, +Louis, I am not so utterly selfish and ungrateful. Do not urge me +further, as I see you are about to do, for my resolution is unalterable. +Yielding as my nature naturally is, I can be firm at times; and in this +case, nothing that you can say will alter my determination." + +He stood erect before her, his fine face clouded with anger and +mortification. + +"This, then, is your last resolve?" he said, coldly. + +"It is. Dear Louis, forgive me if I have caused you pain. Believe me, it +has grieved me deeply to be obliged to speak thus," she said, laying her +hand upon his arm, and looking up pleadingly, sorrowfully, in his face. + +"Oh! do not trouble yourself about grieving me, fair Celeste," he said, +scornfully; "the glamour has faded from my eyes, that is all. I fancied +you little less than an angel. I was fool enough to believe you loved me +well enough to brave even the opinion of the world for my sake. I find +you are only a woman, after all, with more pride and ambition than love +for me. Well, be it so. I have never sued for the favor of any one yet, +and cannot begin now. Farewell, Celeste; forgive me for trespassing thus +long upon your time, but it will be long before it happens again." + +He turned away with a haughty bow. She saw he was angry, disappointed +and deeply mortified, and tears sprang to her gentle eyes. + +"Oh, Louis!" was all she could say, as sobs choked her utterance. + +He turned round and stood gazing coldly upon her. + +"Well, Miss Pearl," he said, calmly. + +"Oh, Louis! _dear_ Louis! forgive me! do not be angry with your +Celeste. Oh, Louis! I am sorry I have offended you." + +"I am not angry, Miss Pearl; only a little disappointed. You have a +perfect right to reject me if you choose. My only regret is that I +should have troubled you so long. I have the honor to wish you +good-day." + +And with the last bitter words he sprang on his horse, and in a few +minutes was out of sight. + +All Celeste's fortitude gave way then; and sinking on a seat, she hid +her face in her hands and wept the bitterest tears she had ever shed in +her life. Louis was gone, and in anger, believing her proud, artful, and +fickle--perhaps he would love her no more; and her bosom heaved with +convulsive sobs at the thought. + +All that day and the next, and the next, Louis came not. How wearily the +hours dragged on while she sat listening in vain for his coming. Taking +her work, she would sit by the window commanding a view of the road, and +strain her eyes in the fruitless endeavor to catch a glimpse of his +tall, elegant figure. At every noise she would start convulsively, and a +wild thrill would dart through her heart, in the hope that it might be +his footsteps. Then sinking back disappointed, she would close her eyes +to force back the gathering tears, and strive to keep down the choking +sensation that would arise to her throat. And when night fell, and still +he came not, unable longer to restrain herself, she would hastily seek +her own chamber, and weep and sob until, utterly prostrated in mind and +body, the morning would find her pale, ill, and languid, with slow step +and heavy, dimmed eyes. + +The morning of the fourth day came, and this suspense was growing +intolerable. Breakfast had passed untasted, and suffering with a dull, +throbbing headache, she was about to quit the room, when the sound of a +horse's hoofs thundering down the road made her leap to her feet with a +wild thrill of joy that sent new light to her, eyes and new color to her +cheeks. + +"He is come! he is come!" she exclaimed, rushing to the door. A cry of +disappointment almost escaped her, as her eye fell on Gipsy in the act +of dismounting. + +"Here I am, all alive, like a bag of grasshoppers," exclaimed Gipsy, as, +gathering her riding-habit in her hand, she tripped with her usual airy +motion up the garden walk. "How have you been this age, Celeste? My +stars! how pale you are; have you been ill?" + +"I have not been very well for the past week," said Celeste, forcing a +smile. "I am very glad to see you. Come in." + +Gipsy entered; and having saluted Miss Hagar, threw herself into a +chair, and snatching off her hat, began swinging it by the strings. +Celeste took her sewing and seated herself by the window. + +"Well, I declare! we have had such times up at the Hall this week," said +Gipsy. "Have you heard how I captured Big Tom?" + +"No," said Celeste, in surprise; whereupon Gipsy related what had +occurred, ending with: + +"Old Mrs. Donne is still very sick, and raves at an appalling rate about +babies, and snow-storms, and all such stuff. Big Tom's in prison, +rapidly recovering from his wounds, which is good news for me; for I +should be sorry to think I had killed the poor wretch. I should have +come over to see you sooner, only Louis is going away, and we've all +been as busy as nailers." + +"Going away!" echoed Celeste, growing deadly pale. + +"Yes; he leaves here to-morrow morning. He is going to Italy, and will +not be back for several years. But, my goodness! Celeste, what's the +matter? You look as though you were going to faint!" + +"It's nothing--only a sudden spasm," said Celeste, in a low, smothered +voice, dropping her forehead on her hand, while her long, golden +ringlets, falling like a vail over her face, hid it from view. + +"The notion took him so suddenly," continued Gipsy, "that we have +scarcely begun to recover from our astonishment yet. It's no use trying +to coax him not to go, for he puts on that iron face of his, and says, +'the thing's decided.' Men of genius always are a queer crotchety set, +they say. Thank Minerva, I'm not a genius, anyway--one of that sort's +enough in any family. Minnette, too, went off the other day with the +Carsons for Washington--good riddance of bad rubbish, I say. So, when +Louis goes, I'll be alone in my glory, and you must come over and spend +a few days with me. Won't you, Celeste?" + +There was no reply. Gipsy gazed in wonder and alarm at her, as she sat +still and motionless as a figure in marble. + +"Celeste! Celeste! what's the matter?" she said, going over and trying +to raise her head. "Are you sick, or fainting, or what?" + +Celeste looked up, and Gipsy started back as she saw that white, +despairing face, and wild, anguished eyes. + +"You are ill, Celeste," she said, in alarm. "Your hands are like ice, +and your face is cold as death. Come, let me assist you to your room." + +"Thank you--I will go myself. I will be better, if let alone," said +Celeste, faintly, as she arose to her feet, and, sick and giddy, +tottered rather than walked from the room. + +Gipsy looked after her, perplexed and anxious. + +"Well, now, I'd like to know what all this is about," she muttered to +herself. "Wonder if Louis' departure has anything to do with it? They've +had a quarrel, I suppose, and Louis is going off in a huff. Well, it's +none of my business, anyway, so I sha'n't interfere. Louis looked as if +he'd like to murder me when I asked him what he was going to do without +Celeste, and walked off without ever deigning to answer me. But I guess +I ain't afraid of him; and if he hasn't behaved well to poor Celeste, +I'll tell him a piece of my mind anyway before he goes." And the +soliloquizing Gipsy left the house and rode thoughtfully homeward. + +During the rest of that day and night Celeste did not leave her room. +Miss Hagar grew anxious, and several times came to her door to beg +admittance, but the low voice within always said: + +"No, no; not now, I will be better to-morrow--only leave me alone." + +And, troubled and perplexed, Miss Hagar was forced to yield. Many times +she approached the chamber door to listen, but all within was still as +death--not the faintest sound reached her ear. + +"Has Miss Celeste left her room yet?" inquired Miss Hagar, the following +morning, of her sable handmaid, Curly. + +"Laws! yes, missus; she comed outen her room 'fore de sun riz dis +mornin': an' I 'clare to goodness! I like to drop when I seed her. She +was jes' as pale as a ghos', wid her eyes sunken right in like, an' +lookin' drefful sick. She'd on her bunnit and shawl, and tole me to tell +you she war agoin' out for a walk. 'Deed, she needed a walk, honey, for +her face was jes' as white as dat ar table-cloff." + +"Where was she going?" inquired Miss Hagar, alarmed. + +"'Deed, I didn't mind to ax her, 'cause she 'peared in 'stress o' mind +'bout somefin or udder. I looked arter her, dough, an' seed her take de +road down to de shore," replied Curly. + +Still more perplexed and troubled by this strange and most unusual +conduct on the part of Celeste, Miss Hagar seated herself at the +breakfast-table, having vainly waited an hour past the usual time for +the return of the young girl. + +When Celeste left the cottage, it was with a mind filled with but one +idea--that of seeing Louis once more before he left. But few people were +abroad when she passed through the village; and descending to the beach, +she seated herself behind a projecting rock, where, unseen herself, she +could behold him going away. + +Out on the glittering waves, dancing in the first rays of the morning +sunlight, lay a schooner, rising and falling lazily on the swell. It was +the vessel in which Gipsy had told her Louis was to leave St. Mark's, +and Celeste gazed upon it, with that passionate, straining gaze, with +which one might look on a coffin, where the one we love best is about to +be laid. Hours passed on, but she heeded them not, as, seated on a low +rock, with her hands clasped over her knees, she waited for his coming. + +After the lapse of some time, a boat put off from the schooner, and, +propelled by the strong arms of four sailors, soon touched shore. Three +of them landed, and took the road leading to Mount Sunset. Half an hour +passed, and they reappeared, laden with trunks and valises, and followed +by Louis and Gipsy. + +He seemed careless, even gay, while Gipsy wore a sad, troubled look, all +unused to her. Little did either of them dream of the wild, despairing +eyes watching them, as if her very life were concentrated in that +agonizing gaze. + +"Well, good-bye, _ma belle_," said Louis, with a last embrace. "You +perceive my boat is on the shore, and my bark is on the sea, and I must +away." + +"Good-bye," repeated Gipsy, mechanically. + +He turned away and walked toward the boat, entered it, and the seamen +pushed off. Gipsy stood gazing after his tall, graceful form until the +boat reached the schooner, and he ascended the deck. Then it danced away +in the fresh morning breeze down the bay, until it became a mere speck +in the distance, and then faded altogether from view. + +Dashing away a tear, Gipsy turned to ascend the rocks, when the flutter +of a muslin dress from behind a cliff caught her eye. With a vague +presentiment flashing across her mind, she approached to see who it was. +And there she beheld Celeste, lying cold and senseless on the sand. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +"THE QUEEN OF SONG." + + + "Give me the boon of love-- + Renown is but a breath, + Whose loudest echo ever floats + From out the halls of death. + A loving eye beguiles me more + Than Fame's emblazon'd seal; + And one sweet note of tenderness, + Than triumph's wildest peal."--TUCKERMAN. + +"Oranmore, my dear fellow, welcome back to Italy!" exclaimed a +distinguished-looking man, as Louis--the day after his arrival in +Venice--was passing through one of the picturesque streets of that +"palace-crowned city." + +"Ah, Lugari! happy to see you!" said Louis, extending his hand, which +was cordially grasped. + +"When did you arrive?" asked the Italian, as, linking his arm through +that of Louis, they strolled toward the "Bridge of the Rialto." + +"Only yesterday. My longings for Venice were too strong to be resisted; +so I returned." + +"Then you have not heard our 'Queen of Song' yet?" inquired his +companion. + +"No. Who is she?" + +"An angel! a seraph! the loveliest woman you ever beheld!--sings like a +nightingale, and has everybody raving about her!" + +"Indeed! And what is the name of this paragon?" + +"She is called Madame Evelini--a widow, I believe--English or American +by birth. She came here as poor as Job and as proud as Lucifer. Now, +she has made a fortune on the stage; but is as proud as ever. Half the +men at Venice are sighing at her feet; but no icicle ever was colder +than she--it is impossible to warm her into love. There was an English +duke here not long ago, who--with reverence be it spoken!--had more +money than brains, and actually went so far as to propose marriage; and, +to the amazement of himself and everybody else, was most decidedly and +emphatically rejected." + +"A wonderful woman, indeed, to reject a ducal crown. When does she +sing?" + +"To-night. You must come with me and hear her." + +"With pleasure. Look, Lugari--what a magnificent woman that is!" + +"By St. Peter! it's the very woman we are speaking of--Madame Evelini +herself!" exclaimed Lugari. "Come, we'll join her. I have the pleasure +of her acquaintance. Take a good look at her first, and tell me if she +does not justify my praises." + +Louis, with some curiosity, scrutinized the lady they were approaching. +She was about the middle height, with an exquisitely-proportioned +figure--a small, fair, but somewhat melancholy face, shaded by a +profusion of pale-brown ringlets. Her complexion was exquisitely fair, +with dark-blue eyes and beautifully chiseled features. As he gazed, a +strange, vague feeling, that he had seen that face somewhere before, +flashed across his mind. + +"Well, what do you think of her?" said Lugari, rousing him from a +reverie into which he was falling. + +"That she is a very lovely woman--there can be but one opinion about +that." + +"How old would you take her to be?" + +"About twenty, or twenty-three at the most." + +"Phew! she's over thirty." + +"Oh, impossible!" + +"Fact, sir; I had it from her own lips. Now, I'll present you; but take +care of your heart, my boy--few men can resist the fascinations of the +Queen of Song." + +"I have a counter-charm," said Louis, with a cold smile. + +"The memory of some fairer face in America, I suppose. Well, we shall +see. Good-morning, Madame Evelini," he said, acknowledging that lady's +salutation. "Charming day. Allow me to present to you my friend Mr. +Oranmore." + +From the first moment the lady's eyes had fallen on the face of Louis, +she had gazed as if fascinated. Every trace of color slowly faded from +her face, leaving her cold and pale as marble. As his name was uttered +she reeled, as if she were faint, and grasped the arm of Lugari for +support. + +"_Whom_ did you say?" she asked, in a breathless voice. + +"Mr. Oranmore, a young American," replied Lugari, looking in amazement +from the lady to Louis--who, quite as much amazed as himself, stood +gazing upon her, lost in wonder. + +"Oranmore!" she exclaimed, unheeding their looks--"Oranmore! Surely not +Barry Oranmore?" + +"That was my father's name," replied the astonished Louis. + +A low cry broke from the white lips of the lady, as her hands flew up +and covered her face. Lugari and Louis gazed in each other's faces in +consternation. She dropped her hands at last, and said, in a low, +hurried voice: + +"Excuse this agitation, Mr. Oranmore. Can I have the pleasure of a +private interview with you?" + +"Assuredly, madam," said the astonished Louis. + +"Well, call at my residence in the Palazzo B----, this afternoon. And +now I must ask you to excuse me, gentlemen. Good-morning." + +She hurried away, leaving the two young men overwhelmed with amazement. + +"What the deuce does this mean?" said Lugari. + +"That's more than I can tell. I'm as much in the dark as you are." + +"She cannot have fallen in love with him already," said Lugari, in the +musing tone of one speaking to himself. + +Louis laughed. + +"Hardly, I think. I cannot expect to succeed where a royal duke failed." + +"There's no accounting for a woman's whims; and he's confoundedly +good-looking," went on Lugari, in the same meditative tone. + +"Come, Antonio, none of your nonsense," said Louis. "Come with me to my +studio, and spend the morning with me. It will help to pass the time +until the hour for calling on her ladyship." + +They soon reached the residence of the artist. The door was opened for +them by a boy of such singular beauty, that Lugari stared at him in +surprise and admiration. His short, crisp, black curls fell over a brow +of snowy whiteness, and his pale face looked paler in contrast with his +large, melancholy, black eyes. + +"Well, Isadore," said Louis kindly, "has there been any one here since?" + +"No, signor," replied the boy, dropping his eyes, while a faint color +rose to his cheek, as he met the penetrating gaze of the stranger. + +"That will do, then. Bring wine and cigars, and leave us." + +The boy did as directed, and hurried from the room. + +"Handsome lad, that," said Lugari, carelessly. "Who is he?" + +"Isadore something--I forget what. He _is_, as you say, remarkably +handsome." + +"He is not a Venetian?" + +"No; English, I believe. I met him in Naples, friendless and nearly +destitute, and took charge of him. Have a glass of wine?" + +Lugari looked keenly in the face of his friend with a peculiar smile, +that seemed to say: "Yes--I understand it perfectly;" but Louis, busy in +lighting a cigar, did not observe him. + +The morning passed rapidly away in gay conversation; and at the hour +appointed, Louis sat in one of the magnificent rooms of the Palazzo +B----, awaiting the entrance of the singer. + +She soon made her appearance, quite bewitching in blue silk, but looking +paler, he thought, than when he had seen her in the morning. + +"I see you are punctual," she said, holding out her hand, with a slight +smile. "Doubtless you are at your wits' end trying to account for my +singular conduct." + +"My only wonder is, madam, how I could have merited so great an honor." + +"Ah! I knew you would say something like that," said the lady. +"Insincere, like the rest of your sex. Well, you shall not be kept long +in suspense. I have sent for you here to tell you my history." + +"Madam!" exclaimed Louis, in surprise. + +"Yes, even so. It concerns you more nearly, perhaps, than you think. +Listen, now." + +She leaned her head in her hand, and, for a moment, seemed lost in +thought; while Louis, with eager curiosity, waited for her to begin. + +"I am Irish by birth," she said, at last, looking up; "I was born in +Galway. My father was a poor farmer, and I was his only child. I grew up +a wild, untutored country girl; and reached the age of fifteen, knowing +sorrow and trouble only by name. + +"My occupation, sometimes, was watching my father's sheep on the +mountain. One day, as I sat merrily singing to myself, a horseman, +attracted by my voice, rode up and accosted me. I was bold and fearless, +and entered into conversation with him as if I had known him all my +life--told him my name and residence; and learned, in return, that he +was a young American of respectable and wealthy connections, who had +visited Galway to see a friend. + +"From that day forth, he was constantly with me; and I soon learned to +watch for his coming as I had never watched for any one before. He was +rash, daring, and passionate; and, captivated by my beauty (for I _was_ +handsome then), he urged me to marry him privately, and fly with him. I +had never learned to control myself in anything; and loving him with a +passion that has never yet died out, I consented. I fled with him to +England. There we were secretly wedded. He took me to France, where we +remained almost a year--a year of bliss to me. Then he received letters +demanding his immediate presence in America. He would have left me +behind him, and returned for me again; but I refused to leave him; I +therefore accompanied him to his native land, and a few weeks after--one +stormy Christmas Eve--my child, a daughter, was born. + +"I never saw it but once. The nurse must have drugged me--for I have a +dim recollection of a long, long sleep, that seemed endless; and when I +awoke, I found myself in a strange room with the face of a strange woman +bending over me. To my wild, bewildered inquiries, she answered, that I +had been very ill, and my life despaired of for several weeks; but that +I was now recovering. I asked for my husband and child. She knew nothing +of them, she said. I had been brought there in a carriage, after night, +by a man whose features she could not recognize--he was so muffled up. +He had paid her liberally for taking charge of me, and promised to +return to see me in a few weeks. + +"I was a child in years and wisdom, and suspected nothing. I felt angry +at his desertion, and cried like the petted child I was, at his absence. +The woman was very kind to me, though I saw she looked upon me with a +sort of contempt, the reason of which I did not then understand. Still, +she took good care of me, and in a fortnight I was as well as ever. + +"One evening, I sat in my room silent and alone (for _I_ was not +permitted to go out), and crying like a spoiled baby, when the sound of +a well-known voice reached my ear from the adjoining room. With a cry of +joy, I sprang to my feet, rushed from the room, and fell into the arms +of my husband. In my joy at meeting him, I did not perceive, at first, +the change those few weeks had made in him. He was pale and haggard, and +there was an unaccountable something in his manner that puzzled me. He +was not less affectionate; but he seemed wild, and restless, and ill at +ease. + +"My first inquiry was for my child. + +"'It is dead, Eveleen,' he answered, hurriedly; 'and you were so ill +that it became necessary to bring you here. Now that you are better, you +must leave this and come with me.' + +"'And you will publicly proclaim our marriage, and we will not be +separated more?' I eagerly inquired. + +"He made no answer, save to urge me to make haste. In a few moments I +was ready; a carriage at the door. He handed me in, then followed, and +we drove rapidly away. + +"'Where are we going?' I asked, as we drove along. + +"'Back to Ireland; you are always wishing to return.' + +"'But you will go with me, will you not?' I asked, in vague alarm. + +"'Yes, yes; to be sure,' he answered, quickly. Just then, the murmur of +the sea reached my ear; the carriage stopped, and my husband assisted me +out. + +"A boat was in waiting on the shore. We both entered, and were rowed to +the vessel lying in the harbor. I reached the deck, and was conducted +below to a well-furnished cabin. + +"'Now, Eveleen, you look fatigued and must retire to rest. I am going on +deck to join the captain for a few hours,' said my husband, as he gently +kissed my brow. His voice was low and agitated, and I could see his face +was deadly pale. Still, no suspicion of the truth entered my mind. I +was, indeed, tired; and wearily disengaging myself from the arms that +clasped me in a parting embrace, I threw myself on my bed, and in a few +minutes was fast asleep. My husband turned away and went on deck, and--I +never saw him more." + +Her voice failed, and her lips quivered; but after a few moments she +went on. + +"The next morning the captain entered the cabin and handed me a letter. +I opened it in surprise. A draft for five thousand dollars fell out, but +I saw it not; my eyes were fixed in unspeakable horror on the dreadful +words before me. + +"The letter was from my husband. He told me that we were parted forever, +that he had wedded another bride, and that the vessel I was in would +convey me home, where he hoped I would forget him, and look upon the +past year only as a dream. I read that terrible letter from beginning to +end, while every word burned into my heart and brain like fire. I did +not faint nor shriek; I was of too sanguine a temperament to do either; +but I sat in stupefied despair; I was stunned; I could not realize what +had happened. The captain brought me a newspaper, and showed me the +announcement of his marriage to some great beauty and heiress--some Miss +Erliston, who----" + +"What!" exclaimed Louis, springing fiercely to his feet. "In the name of +heaven, of whom have you been talking all this time?" + +"Of my husband--of your father--of Barry Oranmore!" + +He staggered into his seat, horror-stricken and deadly white. There was +a pause, then he said, hoarsely: + +"Go on." + +"I know not how that voyage passed--it is all like a dream to me. I +reached Liverpool. The captain, who had been well paid, had me conveyed +home; and still I lived and moved like one who lives not. I was in a +stupor of despair, and months passed away before I recovered; when I +did, all my childishness had passed away, and I was in heart and mind a +woman. + +"Time passed on. I had read in an American paper the announcement of my +false husband's dreadful death. Years blunted the poignancy of my grief, +and I began to tire of my aimless life. He had often told me my voice +would make my fortune on the stage. Acting on this hint, I went to +London, had it cultivated, and learned music. At last, after years of +unremitting application, I made my _debut_. It was a triumph, and every +fresh attempt crowned me with new laurels. I next visited France; then I +came here; and here I have been ever since. To-day, when I beheld you, +the very image of your father as I knew him first, I almost imagined the +grave had given up its dead. Such is my story--every word true, as +heaven hears me. Was I not right, when I said it concerned you more +nearly than you imagined?" + +"Good Heaven! And was my father such a villain?" said Louis, with a +groan. + +"Hush! Speak no ill of the dead. I forgave him long ago, and surely you +can do so too." + +"Heaven help us all! what a world we live in!" said Louis, while, with a +pang of remorse, his thoughts reverted to Celeste; and he inwardly +thought how similar her fate might have been, had she consented to go +with him. + +"And was your child really dead?" he inquired, after a pause, during +which she sat with her eyes fixed sadly on the floor. "He may have +deceived you in that as in other things." + +"I know not," she answered; "yet I have always had a sort of +presentiment that it still lives. Oh, if heaven would but permit me to +behold her alive, I could die happy!" + +Louis sat gazing upon her with a puzzled look. + +"I know not how it is," he said, "but you remind me strangely of some +one I have seen before. I recognize your face, vaguely and indistinctly, +as one does faces they see in dreams. I am _sure_ I have seen some one +resembling you elsewhere." + +"Only fancy, I fear," said the lady, smiling, and shaking her head. "Do +you intend hearing me sing to-night?" + +"Oh, decidedly! Do you think I would miss what one might make a +pilgrimage round the world to hear once?" + +"Flattery! flattery! I see you are like all the rest," said Madame +Evelini, raising her finger reprovingly. + +"Not so, madam; I never flatter. And now I regret that a previous +engagement renders it necessary for me to leave you," said Louis, taking +his hat and rising to leave. + +"Well, I shall expect to see you soon again," she said, with an +enchanting smile; and Louis, having bowed assent, left the house; and, +giddy and bewildered by what he had just heard, turned in the direction +of his own residence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +A STARTLING DISCOVERY. + + "Fixed was her look and stern her air; + Back from her shoulders streamed her hair; + Her figure seemed to rise more high; + Her voice, Despair's wild energy + Had given a tone of prophecy."--MARMION. + +Weeks passed away. Louis became a daily visitor at the Palazzo B----. +His growing intimacy with the beautiful "Queen of Song" was looked upon +with jealous eyes by her numerous admirers; and many were the rumors +circulated regarding her affection for the handsome young American. But +Madame Evelini was either too proud or too indifferent to heed these +reports, and visited Louis in his studio whenever she pleased, leaving +the world to say of her what it listed. Louis, too, was winning fame as +an artist, and, next to madame herself, was becoming one of the +greatest celebrities in Venice. + +"What a handsome boy that attendant of yours is!" said the lady, one +day, to Louis, as Isadore quitted the room; "all who visit you vie with +each other in their praises of his beauty." + +"Who? Isadore? Yes, he is handsome; but a most singular youth--silent, +taciturn, at times almost fierce, and at others, sullenly morose." + +"He seems to have a strong antipathy to ladies, and to me in +particular," said Madame Evelini; "he looks as if he wished to shut the +door in my face every time I come here." + +"Yes, that is another of his oddities; in fact, he is quite an +unaccountable lad." + +"He is very much attached to _you_, at all events. If he were a woman, I +should say he is in love with you, and jealous of the rest of us," said +madame, laughing. "As it is, it can only be accounted for by ill-nature +on his part. Well, adieu!" said madame, rising to take her leave. + +Louis soon had a most convincing proof of the lad's attachment. Being +detained one evening, by some business, in one of the narrow courts +inhabited by the lower class in Venice, he returned with a violent +headache. He grew worse so rapidly, that before night he was in a high +fever, raving deliriously. + +A physician was sent for, who pronounced it to be a dangerous and most +infectious fever, and advised his immediate removal to a hospital, where +he might receive better attendance than he could in his lodgings. But +Isadore positively refused to have him removed, vehemently asserting +that he himself was quite competent to take care of him. + +And well did he redeem his word. No mother ever nursed her sick child +with more tender care than he did Louis. Night and day he was ever by +his side, bathing his burning brow, or holding a cooling draught to his +feverish lips. And though his pale face grew paler day after day, and +his lustrous black eyes lost their brightness with his weary vigils, +nothing could tempt him from that sick room. With womanly care, he +arranged the pillows beneath the restless head of the invalid; drew the +curtains to exclude the glaring light, totally unheeding the danger of +contagion. With jealous vigilance, too, he kept out all strangers. +Madame Evelini, upon hearing of her friend's illness, immediately came +to see him, but she was met in the outer room by Isadore, who said, +coldly: + +"You cannot see him, madame; the physician has forbidden it." + +"But only for one moment. I will not speak to him, or disturb him," +pleaded Madame Evelini. + +"No; you cannot enter. It is impossible," said Isadore, as he turned and +left the room, fairly shutting the door in her face. + +In his wild delirium, Louis talked incessantly of Celeste, and urged her +with passionate vehemence to fly with him. At such times, the dark brow +of Isadore would knit, and his eyes flash with smoldering fire beneath +their lids. But if his own name was mentioned, his beautiful face would +light up with such a radiant look of light and joy, that he seemed +recompensed for all his weary watching and unceasing care. + +At length, a naturally strong constitution, and the tender nursing of +Isadore triumphed over disease, and Louis became convalescent. And then +he began to realize all he owed to the boy who had been his +guardian-angel during his illness. + +"How can I ever repay you, Isadore?" he said, one day, as the youth +hovered by his side, smoothing the tossed pillows, and arranging the +bed-clothes with a skill few nurses could have surpassed. + +"I wish for no return, signor. I am only too happy to have been of +service to you," said the boy, dropping his eyes. + +"Well, at least, you will find I am not ungrateful. Once I am well, you +shall no longer remain a servant. I will place you in a fair way to make +your fortune," said Louis. + +"Signor, I beg you will not think of such a thing. I have no wish to +leave you," said Isadore, in alarm. + +"But with me you will only be an obscure servant, while it is in my +power to place you in a situation to become honored and wealthy." + +"I would rather remain with you." + +"Strange boy! Why are you so anxious to stay with me?" + +"Because----" + +"Well?" + +"Because I love you, Signor," said the boy, while his whole face, a +moment before so pale, grew vivid crimson. + +Louis looked at him in surprise. + +"And what have I done for you, that you should love me so?" he asked, at +length. + +"Do we only love those who have conferred favors upon us, Signor?" + +"Well, generally speaking, among men it is so. If you were a woman, now, +it would be different," said Louis, laughing. + +"Would you love me, if I were a woman?" asked the boy, in a tone so +abrupt and startling, that Louis gazed at him in wonder. + +"Not more than I do now. One cannot _love_ two women at a time, as you +will find out when you grow older." + +"Then the signor is already in love?" asked Isadore, raising his dark +eyes, now filled with dusky fire. + +There was no reply. Louis turned aside restlessly, so that the boy could +not see the expression of his face. And Isadore, paler than before, +seated himself in silence, and fixed his burning black eyes steadily on +the ground. + +Louis now rapidly recovered, and in a short time was able to resume his +duties. During his first interview with Madame Evelini, she related the +scene that had taken place between her and Isadore. + +"His motive in keeping me out was certainly other than the physician's +commands," she said. "In fact, my dear Louis, I should not be surprised +if your Isadore should turn out to be a female in disguise. His conduct +savors so strongly of jealousy that I more than half suspect him. Some +fiery Italian might have conceived a romantic passion for you, and taken +this means of following you. Those hot-blooded Venetians will do such +things sometimes." + +The words were lightly spoken, but they set Louis to thinking. What if +they were true? A number of things, trifling in themselves, rushed on +his mind, tending to confirm this opinion. He started up, seized his +hat, bade madame a hasty farewell, and started for home, fully resolved +to discover immediately whether or not her words were true. + +On entering, he found Isadore standing with folded arms, gazing with +eyes almost fiendish with hate upon a picture on the easel. It was the +portrait of Celeste as a child, standing as when he first beheld her +caressing her wounded bird. No words can describe the look of fierce +hatred with which the boy regarded it. + +"Well, Isadore, you seem struck by that painting. Did you ever see a +sweeter face?" asked Louis, pointing to Celeste, but keeping his eyes +fixed steadily on the face of the boy. + +"Do you love her?" asked Isadore, hoarsely, without looking up. + +"Yes, with my whole heart and soul!" replied Louis, fervently. + +"Ungrateful wretch!" cried the youth, in a voice of intense passion; and +lifting his head, he disclosed a face so pale, and eyes so full of fire, +that Louis started back. "Was it for this that I left home, and country, +and friends, that I assumed a disguise like this to follow you? Was it +for such a turn as this I risked my life for yours? Was it for words +like these I cast aside my pride, and became your menial? Was it not +enough for you to call on her unceasingly during your delirium--she who +feared the opinion of the world more than she loved you--while I, who +braved disgrace and death for your sake, was unnamed and forgotten? Look +on me, most ungrateful of men," he continued, almost with a shriek. +"Look at me; and say, do you yet know me?" + +He dashed his cap to the ground, and with features convulsed with +contending passions, stood before him. Louis looked, turned deadly pale, +and exclaimed, in a voice of utter surprise: + +"Merciful heaven! Minnette!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +LIGHT IN DARKNESS. + + "By the strong spirit's discipline-- + By the fierce wrong forgiven-- + By all that wrings the heart of sin, + Is woman won to Heaven."--WILLIS. + +There was a moment's profound silence, during which Louis stood like one +thunderstruck, and Minnette glared upon him with her fierce black eyes. + +"And you have been with me all this time, Minnette, and I knew it not," +said Louis, at length. + +"No," she said, with a bitter laugh. "You did not know me. Had it been +Celeste, do you think you would have recognized her?" + +"Minnette, do not look so wildly. Good heaven! who would ever think of +seeing you here, and in such disguise?" he added, still scarcely able to +realize it was Minnette who stood before him. + +"And it was for your sake," she replied, in a voice almost choked by +contending emotions. + +"For me, for me! wretch that I am!" he said, with bitter remorse. "Oh, +Minnette! I am unworthy such devoted love." + +Something in his manner inspired her with hope. She clasped her hands, +and said, wildly: + +"Only say you will not cast me off. Only say you will yet love me, and I +will be a thousand-fold repaid for all I have endured for your sake. Oh, +Louis! is it for the cold, prudish Celeste you reject such love as +mine?" + +"We cannot compel our affections, Minnette. Celeste is the only woman +who can ever possess my heart; but you--you shall always be to me as a +dear sister. You must throw off this disguise, and return with me home +immediately. Your friends shall never know of this--they do not dream +you are here; and you will soon learn to look back to this time as a +troubled dream, happily past." + +"Ha, ha, ha! You might take me back to America, that I might witness +your marriage with Celeste. No, Louis Oranmore, _never_ shall _she_ +enjoy such a triumph! I have hated her all my life; and I shall hate her +with my last breath. Do you think I could live and survive this +disgrace? You have driven me to madness; and now behold its fruits." + +Her voice was hoarse with concentrated passion; her eyes burning like +fire; her face ghastly and livid. As she spoke, she drew from within the +doublet she wore a gleaming dagger. As the quick eye of Louis saw the +motion, he sprang forward and seized her by the wrist. She struggled +madly to free herself from his grasp; and in the struggle the point of +the dagger entered her eye. + +A torrent of blood flowed over his hands. Shriek after shriek of mortal +agony broke from the lips of Minnette. The fatal dagger dropped from the +hand of Louis--he staggered back, and stood for a moment paralyzed with +horror. Mad with agony, Minnette fled round the room, the blood gushing +from her sightless eye and covering her face, her agonizing screams +making the house resound. It was an awful, ghastly, appalling spectacle. +Louis stood rooted to the ground, unable to remove his gaze from the +terrible sight. + +Her piercing shrieks soon filled the room. Among the crowd came Lugari, +who instantly guessed what had happened. A surgeon was sent for, and +poor Minnette, struggling madly, was borne to her room and laid upon +her bed. The surgeon, an Englishman, at length arrived; and Louis, at +last restored to presence of mind, speedily expelled the gaping crowd, +and shut himself up in his own room, unable to endure the harrowing +sight of Minnette's agony. For upwards of two hours he trod up and down, +almost maddened by the recollection of the dreadful scene just past. +Bitter, indeed, was his anguish and remorse; in those two hours seemed +concentrated ages of suffering. + +Suddenly the sound of footsteps announced that the physician was about +to take his leave. Hurriedly leaving the room, Louis followed him, +scarcely daring to ask the question that hovered upon his lips. + +"Tell me!" he exclaimed, vehemently, "is she--will she----" + +"No, she will not die," replied the doctor, who knew what he would ask. +"The wound is dangerous, but not mortal. She must be taken care of. I +will have her immediately removed from here." + +"Then she will recover!" said Louis, fervently, "Thank God!" + +"Yes, she will recover," said the doctor, hesitatingly, "but----" + +"But what?" exclaimed Louis, in vague alarm. + +"_She will be blind for life!_" + +"Great heaven!" + +"Her right eye is already gone, and the other, I fear, will never more +see the light. Still, you should be grateful that her life will be +preserved." And the surgeon took his hat and left. + +"Blind! blind for life!" murmured Louis, in horror; "a fate worse than +death. Oh, Minnette! Minnette!" + + * * * * * + +The lingering glory of an Italian sunset was streaming through the open +window of the room where Minnette lay. It was a plainly, but neatly +furnished room, in one of the _Scuole_, or benevolent institutions of +the city. Two months had passed since that unhappy day on which we saw +her last. She lies now on the bed, the sunlight falling brightly on her +wan face; that blessed sunlight she will never see more. A Sister of +Mercy, with holy face and meek eyes, sits by her side, holding one of +her hands in hers. + +And this is Minnette; this pale, faded, sightless girl, the once +beautiful, haughty, resplendent Minnette! All her beauty was gone now; +the glowing crimson of high health rests no longer on those hollow, +sunken cheeks; the fierce light of passion will never more flash from +those dimmed orbs; from those poor, pale lips, bitter, scathing words +can never more fall. But through all this outward wreck shines a calmer, +holier beauty than ever rested on her face before. In the furnace, she +has been purified; the fierce, passionate spirit has been subdued by +grace; the lion in her nature has yielded to the Lamb that was slain; +the wrung, agonized heart has ceased to struggle, and rests in peace at +last. + +Not without many a struggle had her wild, fierce nature yielded to the +soothings of religion. Long, tempestuous, and passionate was the +struggle; and when her good angel triumphed at last she came, not as a +meek penitent, but as a worn, world-weary sinner, longing only for peace +and rest. + +She had not seen Louis during her illness. Often he came to visit her, +but still her cry was: "Not yet! not yet!" Her wild, mad love was dying +out of her heart, and with it her intense hatred of Celeste. Her days, +now, were spent in meditation and prayer, or listening to the gentle, +soothing words of Sister Beatrice. + +"The sun is setting, sister, is it not?" she asked, turning her head +towards the windows, as though she still could see. + +"Yes; a more glorious sunset I never beheld." + +"And I can never see it more; never behold the beautiful earth or sky; +never see sun, or moon, or stars again!" said Minnette, in a voice low, +but unspeakably sad. + +"No, my child, but there is an inward vision that can never be seen with +corporeal eyes. Now that those outward eyes are sealed forever, a +glimpse of heaven has been bestowed upon you, to lighten the darkness of +your life." + +"Oh! Sister Beatrice, if I were always with you, I feel I could submit +to my fate without a murmur. But when I go out into the world, this +fierce nature that is within me, that is subdued but not conquered, will +again arise; and I will become more passionate, selfish, and sinful than +ever." + +"Then why go out into the world any more? Why not enter a convent, and +end your days in peace?" + +"Oh, sister! if I only might," said Minnette, clasping her hands; "but +I, poor, blind, and helpless, what could I do in a convent?" + +"You could pray, you could be happy; if you wish to enter, your +blindness shall be no obstacle," said Sister Beatrice. + +At this moment a servant entered and handed the sister a note, addressed +to Minnette. She opened it, and read aloud: + + "Every day for a month I have called here, and you have refused + to see me. Minnette, I conjure you to let me visit you; I cannot + rest until I have seen you, and obtained your forgiveness. + + LOUIS." + +Minnette's pale face flushed deep crimson, and then grew whiter than +before, as she said, vehemently: + +"No, I will not! I will not! I _cannot_ see him more!" + +"Why not?" said Sister Beatrice. "Confess, my child, that vanity still +lingers in your heart. You do not wish to see him because you think he +will be shocked to find you so changed and altered. Is it not so?" + +"Yes, yes!" replied Minnette, in a fainting voice. + +"But this is wrong; you ought to see him. As you are desirous of taking +the vail, it is but right that you should see him, and bid him farewell, +and let him inform your friends when he sees them. Come, my dear child, +cast out this spirit of pride, and let me admit him, if only for a +moment." + +There was a fierce struggle in the breast of Minnette. It was but +momentary, however, as, shading her face with one hand, she said: + +"Be it so; I will endure the humiliation; let him come." + +Sister Beatrice pressed her lips to the brow of the invalid, and left +the room. A moment later, and Louis, pale, thin, and careworn, entered. +He started, and grew a shade paler, as his eyes fell on that poor, pale +face, robbed of all its beauty, and with a suppressed groan, sank on his +knees by the bedside. + +"Minnette! Minnette!" he said, hoarsely. "Can you ever forgive me?" + +The sightless eyes were turned toward him, in the vain effort to see. +Alas! All was darkness. She held out one little, transparent hand, which +he took between both of his. + +"I have nothing to forgive," she said, meekly. "All that has happened to +me I deserved. Do not grieve for me, Louis, you have nothing to +reproach yourself with; it was all my own fault." + +He bowed his forehead on her hand, and tears, that did honor to his +generous heart, fell from his eyes. + +"Tell Celeste, when you see her, how sorry I am for all my cruelty and +injustice toward her. Ask her to forgive me; she is good and gentle, I +feel she will do it. If I only had her pardon, I feel I could die +content. And, Oh Louis! when she is happy with you, will you both +sometimes think of Minnette, blind, and alone in a foreign land?" + +"Oh, _poor_ Minnette!" he said, in a choking voice. + +"Do not pity me, Louis; I am very happy," but the pale lips trembled as +she spoke; "happier than I ever was when I was full of life and health. +Oh, Louis, when I look back and think of what I have been--so selfish, +and hard-hearted, and cruel--I tremble to think what I might yet have +been if God in his mercy had not sent me this affliction. And Celeste; +no words can ever tell how I have wronged her. You know how I struck +her, in my blind rage, and the angelic patience and forgiveness with +which she afterward sought to love me, and make me happy. Oh, Louis! all +her sweetness and meekness will haunt me to my dying day." + +Her voice faltered, then entirely failed, and for the first time in her +life the once haughty Minnette wept. + +"Tears are strange visitors to these eyes," she said, with a sad smile; +"there may be hope for me yet, since I can weep for the past. Louis, in +a few weeks I will enter a convent, and the remainder of my life shall +be spent in praying for you and Celeste, and the rest of my friends. And +now you must leave me--farewell, a last farewell, _dear_ Louis. Tell +them all at home how I have learned to love them at last, and ask them +to forgive poor Minnette." + +He could not speak; she made a sign for him to go. Raising the thin, +pale hand to his lips, and casting one long, last look on the sad, yet +peaceful face of the once beautiful Minnette, he quitted the room. And +thus they parted, these two, never to meet in life again. + +Meantime, we must revisit St. Mark's, and witness the startling events +that are bringing matters to a rapid _denouement_ there. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +THE DEATH-BED CONFESSION. + + "Her wretched brain gave way, + And she became a wreck, at random driven, + Without one glimpse of reason or of Heaven." + +It was a bleak, stormy December evening, a week before Christmas. A +bright fire was burning in the well-known parlor of Sunset Hall. + +In his easy-chair, with his gouty legs, swathed in flannels, reposing on +two others, lay our old friend the squire, literally "laid up by the +legs." In the opposite corner was Lizzie, dozing, as usual, on her sofa; +while good Mrs. Gower sat with her fat hands folded in her lap, reposing +after the cares of the day. Dr. Wiseman had not yet sufficiently +recovered from his wounds and bruises to go abroad, and had just retired +to his room, while his affectionate spouse was enjoying herself at a +grand ball in the village. + +The worthy trio had sat in solemn silence for upwards of an hour, when +the door was flung open, and Jupiter rushed in to announce "dat a boy +commanded to see ole marster 'mediately." + +"To see me?" said the squire, in amazement. "What does he want? I won't +see anybody to-night." + +"He's got a letter, and says he must d'liver it to-night--it's very +important," said Jupiter. + +"Humph! well, admit him then. I never can get a minute's peace. 'No rest +for the wicked,' as Solomon says. Well, here he comes." + +As he spoke, a youth, apparently about sixteen, entered the apartment, +bearing every evidence of having journeyed fast. + +"You are Squire Erliston, I believe," said the lad, bowing respectfully. + +"Well, you may believe it," said the squire, testily; "it's a name I was +never ashamed of. What do you want of me at this hour of the night, +young man?" + +"I have been sent with this letter," said the boy, presenting one; "it's +a matter of life and death." + +"Matter of life and death! Lord bless me!" exclaimed the astonished +squire, "what can it mean? Hand me my spectacles, Mrs. Gower, and put +them on my nose, till I overhaul this document. Maybe it contains +state-treason, a gunpowder plot or something. 'The pen is mightier than +the sword,' as Solomon says; though I'll be shot if I believe it. +Solomon didn't know much about swords, and acted queer sometimes--didn't +behave well to his wife, they say. Humph! well, here goes." + +So saying, the squire opened the letter and began to read. And as he +read, his eyes began to protrude, till they threatened to shoot from his +head altogether. The letter ran as follows: + + "MAGNUS ERLISTON: Come to me immediately--am dying. I have + something to tell you of the utmost importance, and I cannot die + with it on my conscience. Above all things, do not, for your + life, breathe a word of this to Dr. Wiseman. Come instantly, or + you may repent it. + + MADGE ORANMORE." + +"Now, what in the name of Beelzebub does the woman mean?" exclaimed the +squire, as he finished reading this. "How does she expect a man to turn +out on a December night, with the gout in his legs? I say, youngster, do +you know who sent you with this precious letter?" + +"Yes, sir; my mistress, Mrs. Oranmore." + +"And what's the matter with her, may I ask?" + +"She has been ailing for some time; and a week ago, her illness took a +dangerous turn. The doctors say she has but few days to live, and she +seems to be anxious about some secret that preys on her mind. I have not +rested day or night since I started for this place. I fear she will not +live until I get back, unless you make haste." + +"I know not what to do," said the squire, evidently appalled. "I'd like +to see the old lady before she leaves this 'vale of tears,' as Solomon +says, but how the mischief I'm to go, I can't tell. If she could only +put off dying for a month or two, now, I'd go with pleasure, but I +suppose she can't conveniently. 'Time and tide wait for no man,' as +Solomon says. I mustn't tell old Wiseman, either, it seems--hum-m-m! +'Pon my life, I don't know what to say about it." + +All this was muttered in a sort of soliloquy; and as he ceased, the +merry jingle of bells approaching the house saluted his ears. The next +moment, Gipsy, wrapped up in shawls, and hoods, and furs, fresh and +bright as a daisy, danced into the room, exclaiming: + +"Here I am, good folks! The ball was a horrid stupid affair, without a +bit of fun, so I thought I'd come home." Here, catching sight of the +stranger, Gipsy favored him with a stare of surprise, and was about to +leave the room, when the squire called: + +"Come back here, monkey; I'm in a confounded scrape, and I want you to +help me out of it." + +"All right; just hint what it is, will you? and I'll have you out of it +in a twinkling." + +"Read that," said the squire, placing the mysterious letter in her hand. + +Gipsy read it, and then exclaimed: + +"Well, there's some mystery here--that's certain. But you can't go, can +you, Guardy?" + +"To be sure I can't. You might as well expect Mrs. Gower, there, to +dance the double shuffle, as expect me to go on such a journey." + +"Well, Spider's not to know of it, and he couldn't go if he did, with +his dilapidated continuations; Aunty Liz can't travel and lie asleep on +a sofa at the same time; and Aunty Gower, poor woman! can't travel up +stairs, under half an hour's panting and groaning; so none of them can +go, _that's_ demonstrated--as old Mr. Blackboard used to say. Eh! +Guardy?" + +"Yes, yes. But what's to be done?" + +"Why, it's very clear what's to be done. _I'll_ go!" + +"_You_," said the squire, with a stare. "What good can you do?" + +"Come, now! I like that! I'll leave it to everybody, if I'm not worth +the whole of you put together. Ain't I, now?" + +"Mrs. Oranmore won't tell _you_ her secret." + +"Well, if she don't, she'll lose the wisest, nicest _sensiblest_ +confidante ever anybody had, though I say it. Any way, I'll try; and if +she won't tell, why, she'll have to leave it alone--that's all. When do +you start?" she asked, turning to the youth. + +"Now, if you're ready," replied the lad. + +"Yes, I'm ready. How did you come? by the stage?" + +"No, in a sleigh--it's at the door." + +"Well, then, I won't detain you. Good-bye for a week, Guardy; good-bye, +Aunty Gower. Off we go!" + +"Hadn't you better stay till morning," said Mrs. Gower, anxiously. "It +is too cold and stormy to travel by night." + +"And in the meantime this old lady may give up the ghost. No; there's no +time to lose; and besides, I rather like the idea of a journey, to vary +the monotony of St. Mark's. Good-bye all--I leave you my blessing," said +Gipsy, with a parting flourish, as she left the room and took her place +by the side of the boy in the sleigh. Nothing remarkable occurred on the +journey. Gipsy, comfortably nestled under the buffalo robes, scarcely +felt the cold. The next morning they halted at a wayside inn to take +breakfast, and then dashed off again. + +Owing to the state of the roads it was late in the afternoon when they +reached the city; and almost dark when Gipsy, preceded by her companion, +entered the gloomy home of Mrs. Oranmore. + +"My stars! what a dismal old tomb. It really smells of ghosts and rats, +and I should not wonder if it was tenanted by both," was Gipsy's +internal comment as she passed up the long, dark staircase, and longer, +darker hall, and entered the sick-room of Mrs. Oranmore--the longest and +darkest of all. Stretched on a hearse-like bed--stiff, stark, and rigid, +as though she were already dead--lay Madge Oranmore--her face looking +like some grim, stern mask carved in iron. An old woman, whom the boy +addressed as "mother," sat by her side. + +The invalid started quickly at the sound of their footsteps; and seeing +the boy, exclaimed, in a faint, yet eager and imperious tone: + +"Has he come?" + +"No; he is ill, and could not come," said Gipsy, stepping forward. "He +is unable to walk, so I have come in his stead." + +"Who are you?" demanded Mrs. Oranmore, sharply. + +"Well, really, I'd be obliged to anybody who would tell me--at present, +it's more than I know. I used to think I was Gipsy Gower--Squire +Erliston's ward; but, of late, I've found out I don't belong to anybody +in particular. I was picked up, one night, as if I had been a piece of +drift-wood; and I expect, like Venus, I rose from the sea." + +"Girl, have you come here to mock me?" exclaimed Dame Oranmore, +fiercely. + +"The saints forbid! I'm telling you the truth, the whole truth, and +nothing but the truth. I was picked up one Christmas eve, nineteen years +ago, on the beach, about a quarter of a mile from here; and--good +Heaven! what's the matter with you?" exclaimed Gipsy, springing back. + +With the shriek of a dying panther, Mrs. Oranmore sprung up in her bed, +with her eyes starting from their sockets, as she fairly screamed: + +"What! Heaven of heavens! did he not drown you?" + +"Why, _no_; I rather think not--at least, if I ever was drowned, I have +no recollection of it. But, my goodness! don't glare at me so--you're +absolutely hideous enough to make every hair on a body's head stand +perpendicular, with those eyes of yours." + +"How were you saved? Answer me that! How were you saved?" again +screamed the excited woman. + +"Well, I don't recollect much about it myself; but Mrs. Gower told me, +the other day, that she found me rolled up in a shawl, on the beach, +like an Esquimaux papoose asleep in a snow-bank. I haven't any notion +who the 'he' is you speak of; but if 'he' left me there to turn into an +icicle, I only wish I could see him, and tell him a piece of my +mind--that's all." + +"And this was Christmas eve, nineteen years ago?" exclaimed Madge +Oranmore, breathlessly. + +"Yes." + +"Great Heaven! how just is thy retribution! And at last, in my dying +hour, I behold before me the child of Esther Erliston and Alfred +Oranmore!" exclaimed the dying woman, falling back on her pillow, and +clasping her hands. + +"_What!_" exclaimed Gipsy, springing forward, and seizing her by the +arm. "Whose child, did you say I was?" + +"The only daughter of Esther Erliston and Alfred Oranmore; and heiress, +in your mother's right, of Mount Sunset Hall," replied Mrs. Oranmore. + +"And grandchild of Squire Erliston?" + +"Yes." + +Gipsy staggered back, and covered her face with her hands. Her emotion +was but momentary, however; and again approaching the bed, she said, in +a tone that was perfectly calm, though her wild, excited eyes spoke a +different tale: + +"Tell me all about this. How came I to be left to perish on the shore?" + +"Leave the room, both of you," said the sick woman, to her attendants. +They obeyed. "Now, sit down beside me," she continued, turning to +Gipsy; "and tell me, are you married?" + +"Yes, they say so--to old Dr. Nicholas Wiseman." + +"Great heaven! what did you say?" exclaimed Mrs. Oranmore, in a voice of +horror. + +"Yes. It's surprising, ain't it, that I married that old man. But that's +got nothing to do with your story. Go on," urged Gipsy. + +"Child! child!" said the dying woman faintly, "_you have wedded the +murderer of your mother_." + +With a low, sharp cry Gipsy sprang to her feet--her countenance blanched +to the hue of death. + +"Did he know your history?" asked Mrs. Oranmore, breaking the long pause +that followed. + +"Yes; he heard it a few weeks before we were married," said Gipsy, in a +voice that was hoarse and unnatural. + +"Then he married you that he might possess Mount Sunset. Oh, the +villainy of that wretch! But let him beware! for the day of retribution +is at hand." + +"Tell me all, from the beginning," said Gipsy, seating herself, and +speaking in a tone as stern, and with a face as firm and rigid, as that +of the grim invalid herself; but those eyes--those eyes--how they +blazed! + +There is little need to recapitulate the tale told to Gipsy--she related +only what the reader already knows; the death of Esther by _her_ +instigation, but by _his_ hand; and the infant left to perish in the +waves. + +"I suppose he left you on the shore, thinking the waves would wash you +away," concluded Mrs. Oranmore, "when you were providentially saved by +the same Almighty power that guarded Moses in his cradle of bulrushes. I +supposed you had perished, and so did he; but the agonies of remorse I +have suffered for what I have done, I can never reveal. Night and day, +sleeping or waking, the last dying shrieks of Esther Oranmore have been +ringing in my ears. My son married Lizzie Erliston; and his violent +death was but the beginning of my living punishment. For _his_ son's +sake, I have kept my dreadful secret during life; but now, at the hour +of death, a power over which I have no control compels me to reveal all. +I am beyond the power of the law--I go to answer for my crimes at the +bar of God; therefore, I fear not in making these disclosures. My hour +has come." + +"But he shall not escape!" said Gipsy, rising from the chair, on which +she sat as if petrified, while listening to the story of her birth. "No! +by the heaven above us both, his life shall pay for this! Woman," she +continued, turning fiercely upon Mrs. Oranmore, "you _shall not_ die +until you have done justice to the child of her you have murdered! I +will send for a magistrate; and you must make a deposition of all you +have told me to him. Death shall not enter here yet, to cheat the +gallows of its due!" + +She sprang to the bell, and rang a peal that brought all the servants in +the house flocking wildly into the room. + +"Go to the nearest magistrate," she said, turning to the boy who had +accompanied her from St. Mark's--"fly! vanish! Tell him it is a matter +of life and death. Go! and be back here in ten minutes, or you shall rue +it!" + +The boy fled, frightened out of his wits by her fierce words and looks. +Shutting the door in the faces of the others, Gipsy seated herself; and +setting her teeth hard together, and clenching her hands, she fixed her +eyes on the floor, and sat as immovable as if turning to stone. Mrs. +Oranmore lay in silence--either not willing or not able to speak. + +Ere fifteen minutes had thus passed, the boy returned, accompanied by a +magistrate--a short, blustering, important personage. He bowed to +Gipsy--who arose upon his entrance--and began drawing off his gloves, +making some remark upon the inclemency of the weather, which she +abruptly cut short, by saying: + +"This woman is dying, and wishes to make a deposition. Here are +writing-materials; sit down and commence--you have no time to spare." + +Hurried away by her impetuosity, the little man found himself, before he +was aware of it, sitting by the bedside, pen in hand, writing and +listening, with many an ejaculation of wonder, horror, and amazement. + +At length the deposition was duly drawn up and signed, and he arose, +exclaiming: + +"But, good heaven! madam, do you not know, if you survive, you will be +arrested too, and----" + +"Hush!" said Gipsy, sternly; "she is dying." + +"I tell you I did not murder her," she exclaimed, almost springing up in +bed; "it was he who gave her the poison! I never did it. Listen! do you +not hear her shrieks? or is it not the cries of the fiends I hear +already? _He_ was afraid. Ha! ha! ha!" she said, with a horrid laugh, "I +mocked him until he ventured to do it. He drowned her child, too; he +said he did--he threw it into the sea; and dead people tell no tales. +Who said it was alive? I will never believe it! It is dead! It is dead!" + +She sank back exhausted. The magistrate gazed, white with horror; but +Gipsy was calm, stern, and still. + +"Look, look! they come for me--their arms are outstretched--they +approach--they strangle me. Off, demon--off, I say!" A wild, piercing +shriek rang through the house, then she fell back, her jaw dropped, her +eyes grew glazed, her face rigid, and Madge Oranmore was dead. + +There was a moment's appalled silence. Then the magistrate said: + +"Let us leave this dreadful place; the very air seems tainted with +blood." + +Without a word, she turned and followed him from the room, and the +house. Rejecting all his invitations to let him find lodgings for her in +the city during the night, she accompanied him to his office, received a +warrant for the arrest of Dr. Wiseman; and with two constables, set off +immediately for Sunset Hall. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +RETRIBUTION. + + "Oh, woman wronged can cherish hate + More deep and dark than manhood may, + And when the mockery of fate + Hath left revenge her chosen way." + --WHITTIER. + +It was the afternoon of the following day. The squire sat alone, +muttering to himself: "Singular! most singular! most ex-_cess_-ively +singular! wants a private interview, eh! What the dickens can be in old +Wiseman's noddle now? Maybe he wants to divorce Gipsy, and marry Lizzie. +Ha! ha! ha! that would be a joke. Wonder what old Mother Oranmore +wanted? that's another secret. I suppose she told Gipsy and--ha! here's +Gipsy herself. 'Speak of Old Nick, and he'll appear,' as Solomon says. +Well, what's the news?" + +"Where's Dr. Wiseman?" inquired Gipsy, abruptly. + +"Up stairs. He sent down word some time ago, that he had something +important to tell me, and wanted a private interview. Think of that! But +what is the matter with you? You look as if you'd been riding on a +broomstick all night--as if you were the Witch of Endor, who told King +Saul's fortune long ago." + +As he spoke, a slow, heavy footstep was heard descending the stairs. + +"There's old Wiseman now, pegging along," said the squire. "I never see +him walking, since he broke his shin-bone, that he doesn't remind me of +Old Nick himself. Now for this wonderful secret of his." + +"Guardy, don't mention that I am here," said Gipsy, hurriedly. "I have a +project in hand, that I fancy will astonish him a little, by and by." + +"Well, be sure you're right, then go ahead, as Solomon says--you always +have some project or other in your cranium to bother his brains." + +"I fancy I will bother him a little more than usual this time," said +Gipsy, with a low, bitter laugh--gliding through one door just as the +doctor entered by another. + +Dr. Wiseman, thin and attenuated by illness, looked even more ghastly +and hideous (if such a thing were possible) than when we saw him last. +He advanced, and took a seat near the fire. + +"Well, Wiseman, what's this wonderful affair you have to tell me?" said +the squire, adjusting himself in his seat to listen. + +"It concerns my wife," replied the doctor, slowly. + +"Yes, some complaint, I'll be bound! Now, I tell you what, Wiseman, I +won't listen to your stories about Gipsy. She has always done what she +liked, and she always shall, for what I care. If she likes to enjoy +herself, she will, and you nor no one else shall interfere," said the +squire, striking the table with an emphatic thump. + +"Don't jump at conclusions so hastily, my dear sir," said the doctor, +dryly. "I have no complaint to make of Mrs. Wiseman. It is of her birth +and parentage I would speak." + +"Her birth and parentage! Is the man mad? Don't you know she's a +foundling?" said the squire, staring with all his eyes. + +"Yes, but lately I have discovered who she is. You need not excite +yourself, Squire Erliston, as I see you intend doing. Listen to me, and +I will tell you all about it. The time has come for you to know. + +"Perhaps you are not aware that for many years I have been the friend +and confidant of Mrs. Madge Oranmore; but so it is. I was bound to her +by the strongest ties of gratitude, and willingly served her in all +things. + +"One Christmas eve, just nineteen years ago, she sent for me in most +urgent haste. I followed her messenger, and was shown to the lady's +room. There I found an infant enveloped in a large shawl, which she told +me I was to consign to the waves--in a word, to drown it. You start, +Squire Erliston, but such was her command. She refused to tell me what +prompted her to so fiendish an act. I was in her power, and she knew I +dared not refuse; I therefore consented----" + +"To drown the child?" said the squire, recoiling in horror. + +"Listen--I feared to refuse, and promised to do it. I went to the beach, +the tide was out; while I stood hesitating, I heard a sleigh +approaching. I wrapped the child up closely, and laid it right in their +way, and stood aside to watch the event; determined, in case they did +not see it, to provide for it comfortably myself. Fortunately, they saw +it. A woman who was in the sleigh took it with her--that woman was Mrs. +Gower--that child is now my wife." + +"Goo-oo-d Lord!" ejaculated the squire, whose mouth and eyes were open +to their widest extent. + +"When you told me how she had been found, I knew immediately it was the +same. I had long felt remorse for what I had done, and I at once +resolved to make reparation to the best of my power, by marrying the +foundling. This, Squire Erliston, was the secret of my wish to marry +Gipsy, which puzzled you so long. + +"Still, I was completely ignorant of her parentage. Owing to my +accident, I was unable to visit Mrs. Oranmore; but I wrote to her +repeatedly, threatening her with exposure if she did not immediately +reveal the whole affair. She grew alarmed at last, and sent me a letter +that explained all, only begging me not to disgrace her, by letting the +world know what she had done. That letter, I regret to say, has been +unhappily lost." + +"Well!" said the squire, breathlessly, seeing he paused. + +"Well, sir, she told me all. My wife is the child of your eldest +daughter, Esther, and Alfred Oranmore." + +Bewildered, amazed, thunderstruck, the squire sat gazing upon him in a +speechless horror. + +"The way of it was _this_," continued the doctor, as calmly as though he +was ordering him a prescription. "Alfred Oranmore, as you know, was +accidentally drowned, leaving his wife in the utmost destitution. Mrs. +Oranmore heard of it, and had Esther privately conveyed to her house, +while she caused a notice of her death to be published in the papers. +What her object was in doing this, I know not. Esther, she says, died in +her house. How she came by her death, I cannot even guess. I knew +nothing of it at the time, as I told you before. Mrs. Oranmore wished +this child removed, that it might not be in the way of her son, Barry; +and thinking I was as heartless and cruel as herself, she employed me +to drown it. Such, Squire Erliston, is this singular story. I thought it +my duty to inform you immediately." + +"And Gipsy is my grandchild," said the squire, in the slow, bewildered +tone of one who cannot realize what he says. + +"Yes; and the rightful heiress of Mount Sunset," said the wily doctor, +in a slow, triumphant tone. + +"And the avenger of her mother!" cried the voice of Gipsy herself, as +she stood before them. "Oh, wonderful Doctor Wiseman! astonishing indeed +is thy talent for invention and hardihood. What a strain on your +imagination it must have been, to invent such a story! Have you ever +heard of the proverb, 'Murder will out,' my lord and master? Ho, there! +Burke and Johnston, enter! here is your prisoner!" + +She opened the door as she spoke, and the constables entered. + +"What in the devil's name means this?" exclaimed the doctor, growing +deadly pale. + +"Yes, call on your master," mocked Gipsy; "he has stood by you long, but +I fear he will not serve you more. Quick, there, Burke! on with the +handcuffs. Gently, Doctor Wiseman--gently, my dear sir; you will hurt +your delicate wrists if you struggle so. Did any prophetic seer ever +foretell, Doctor Wiseman, your end would be by the halter?" + +"What means this outrage? Unhand me, villains!" exclaimed the doctor, +hoarse with rage and fear, as he struggled madly to free himself from +the grasp of the constables. + +"Softly, doctor, softly," said Gipsy, in a voice, low, calm, and +mocking; "you are _only_ arrested for the murder of my mother, Esther +Oranmore, just nineteen years ago. Ah! I see you remember it. I feared +such a trifle might have escaped your memory!" + +The face of the doctor grew perfectly ghastly. He staggered back, and +would have fallen, had he not been upheld by one of the men. Gipsy stood +before him, with a face perfectly white, save two dark purple spots +burning on either cheek. Her wild eyes were blazing with an intense +light, her lips wreathed in a smile of exultant triumph; her long hair, +streaming in disorder down her back, gave her a look that awed even the +constables themselves. + +"And now, Doctor Wiseman," she said, in a slow, bitter, but exulting +voice, "I have fulfilled my vow of vengeance; my revenge is complete, or +will be, when your miserable body swings from the gallows. I see now, +your aim in compelling me to marry you; but you have failed. Satan has +deserted his earthly representative, at last. No earthly power can save +you from hanging now. Away with him to prison! The very air is tainted +which a murderer breathes." + +The men advanced to bear off their prisoner. At that moment the +recollection of the astrologer's fell prediction flashed across his +mind. Word for word it had been fulfilled. Before him, in ghastly array, +arose the scaffold, the hangman, his dying agonies, and the terrible +hereafter. Overcome by fear, horror, and remorse, with a piercing shriek +of utter woe, the wretched man fell senseless to the floor. + +"Take him away," said Gipsy, sternly, turning aside with a shudder of +disgust; "my eyes loathe the sight of him!" + +They bore him away. Gipsy stood at the window listening, until the last +sound of the carriage died away in the distance; then, abruptly turning, +she quitted the room, leaving the squire stunned, speechless, and +bewildered by the rapidity with which all this had taken place. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +ANOTHER SURPRISE. + + "No heiress art thou, lady, but the child + Of one who's still unknown." + +Great was the excitement and consternation which the news of Dr. +Wiseman's crime and arrest created in St. Mark's and the neighboring +city. The peculiar and romantic circumstances attending it, imperfectly +known as they were, the respectability of the parties implicated, the +high standing of the prisoner in society--all contributed to add to the +general interest of the case. + +The rapid and exciting events, the startling discovery that Gipsy was +his grandchild, so confounded and bewildered the squire, who was never +noted for the brightness of his intellect, that it completely upset his +equilibrium; and his days were passed alone, smoking and staring +stupidly at every one he saw. As for Lizzie, she was too feeble and +languid either to feel horror or surprise, and a faint stare and shiver +was the only effect the news produced upon her. Mrs. Gower groaned in +spirit over the depravity of mankind in general, and Dr. Wiseman in +particular; and generally passed her days in solemn exhortations to the +servants, to be warned by his fearful example, and mend their ways. + +On Gipsy, therefore, all the business of the household devolved. A great +change had come over the elf; her laughing days seemed passed; and +quietly establishing herself as mistress of the household, she issued +her orders with a quiet dignity and calm authority, that commanded +obedience and respect. She wrote to Louis, informing him of all that had +occurred, and desiring him to return home immediately. + +The only moments of relaxation which Gipsy ever allowed herself were her +visits to Valley Cottage, listening to the gentle words of +Celeste--"dear Celeste," as Gipsy called her. Day by day she had grown +paler and frailer, her step had lost its airy lightness, her cheeks no +longer wore the hue of health; but no complaint ever passed her lips. +Gipsy often passed her nights at the cottage, feeling it a comfort to +pour her troubles into the sympathizing ears of her friend. And Celeste +would forget her own sorrow in soothing and consoling the poor, +half-crazed little elf. + +Miss Hagar, whose health had for some time been failing, was now unable +to leave her bed. Fearing the shock might prove fatal, Celeste had taken +care she should not hear of her brother's arrest. As for Minnette, no +one knew where she was; and, indeed, few cared--for her hard, selfish +nature had made her disliked by all. + +One evening, Mrs. Gower sat in one of the upper chambers conversing with +Mrs. Donne, whose life, it will be remembered, Gipsy saved. That worthy +old lady was still an inmate of Sunset Hall, and unwilling to leave her +comfortable quarters while suffering with the "rheumatiz." In the +confusion and excitement following the arrest, she had been almost +totally neglected, and had as yet no opportunity of learning the +particulars. Providentially encountering Mrs. Gower, when really dying +of curiosity, she began plying her with questions; and the worthy +housekeeper, delighted to find so attentive a listener, sat down, and +with much gravity began narrating the whole affair, while the attention +of her auditor deepened every moment. + +"Laws a massy 'pon me!" exclaimed Mrs. Donne, as she ceased; "was she +picked up on the beach, Christmas eve, nineteen years ago?" + +"Yes; astonishing, isn't it?" + +"'Stonishing! I guess so!" said Mrs. Donne; "if you knew what I do, you'd +say so." + +"Why, what do you know? _do_ tell me," said Mrs. Gower, whose curiosity +was aroused. + +"Well, I don't mind if I do; though I did intend to carry the secret to +the grave with me. But as I couldn't help it, they can't do nothing to +me for losing the child. + +"On the very night you speak of, Christmas eve, nineteen years ago, I +was brought by a young man to a house in the distant part of the city to +nurse a woman and child. The young man was tall, and dark, and powerful +handsome, but sort o' fierce-looking; and she--oh, she was the loveliest +creature I ever laid my eyes onto! She was nothin' but a child herself, +too, and a furriner, I suspect, by her tongue. + +"Well, I staid there 'long with her, till nigh onto midnight; and then I +wrapped myself up to come home. As I was going out, he called on me to +stop. So I sat down to listen, and he told me, if I'd take the child +home with me, and take care on't, he'd pay me well. I had neither chick +nor child of my own, besides being a widder, and I took him at his word. +He gave me a purse with a good round sum of money in it, on the spot, +and promised me more. + +"I took the little one, wrapped it up in my shawl, and set out for home. + +"On the way I got tired; and when I reached the beach, I sat down to +rest. Two or three minutes after, there was a great cry of fire. I +became frightened; dropped the baby in my confusion; wandered off I +know not how; and when I came back, not long afterward, it was gone. + +"Well, I 'clare to man! I was most crazy. I hunted up and down the beach +till nigh mornin', but I could see no signs of it; and I supposed the +tide carried the poor little thing away. I was dreadfully sorry, you may +be sure; but as it couldn't be helped, I thought I'd make the best of +it, and say nothing about it. So when the young man came, I told him it +was doing very well. And he never asked to see it, but gave me some +money, and went away. + +"For some time after he continued sending me money; but he soon stopped +altogether, and I never heard from either of them more." + +"Did you ever find out his name?" inquired Mrs. Gower. + +"Yes. One day he dropped his handkerchief, going out. I picked it up, +and his name was written on it in full: it was, _Barry Oranmore_!" + +"Barry Oranmore!" repeated Mrs. Gower, thunderstruck. + +"Yes, that was his name; and they were the handsomest pair ever I saw. +I'm sure I'd know either of 'em again, if ever I saw them." + +Much agitated, Mrs. Gower arose, and going to where she had laid the +miniature she had found on his neck when dead, she handed it to Mrs. +Donne. That personage seized it, with a stifled shriek, as she +exclaimed: + +"My goodness gracious! it's the picter of the lady I 'tended. I'd know +that face anywhere." + +"Oh! dear! dear! dear! what _would_ Miss Lizzie say if she heard this?" +ejaculated Mrs. Gower, holding up her hands. "And the child, poor thing! +are you sure it was drowned?" + +"Well, no; I ain't to say _sure_; but it's most likely. It was an +odd-looking little thing, too, with a nat'ral mark, like a red cross, +right onto its shoulder, which is something I never seed on any baby +before." + +But to the surprise of Mrs. Donne, Mrs. Gower sprang panting to her +feet, and grasped her by the arm, exclaiming: + +"On which shoulder was that mark? Say on which shoulder!" + +"On the left. Laws a massy 'pon me! what's the matter?" said the +astonished Mrs Donne. + +"Good heavens! Can the child she speaks of have been----" + +"Who's?" inquired Mrs. Donne, eagerly. + +Before Mrs. Gower could reply, she heard Gipsy's foot in the passage. +Going out, she caught her by the arm and drew her into the room. Then +before the young lady could recover from her astonishment at this +summary proceeding, she had unfastened her dress, pulled it down off her +left shoulder, and displayed a _deep-red cross_. + +Recovering herself, Gipsy sprang back, exclaiming indignantly: + +"What in the name of all that's impolite, has got into you, Aunty Gower? +Pretty work this, pulling the clothes off a lady's back without even +saying, by your leave." + +But Mrs. Donne had seen the mark, and fell back, with a stifled cry. + +"That's it! that's it exactly! She's the child saved, after all." + +"Why, whose child am I _now_?" said the astonished Gipsy. + +"Can you describe the shawl the child you speak of was wrapped in?" +inquired Mrs. Gower, without giving her time to answer Gipsy's question. + +"Yes, that I can--it was my own wedding shawl, as my blessed husband, +who is now an angel up above, bought for me afore we were married. It +was bright red with a white border, and the letters J. D. (which stands +for Jane Donne) in one corner, and the letters J. D. (which stands for +_James_ Donne) in t'other," replied Mrs. Donne, with animation. + +Mrs. Gower sank into a seat and covered her face with her hands; while +Gipsy stood gazing from one to the other in the utmost perplexity. + +"What does all this mean?" she asked, at length. + +Without replying, Mrs. Gower left the room, and presently reappeared +with a faded crimson shawl, which she spread upon the bed. Mrs. Donne +uttered a cry of joy when she saw it. + +"Sakes alive! that is the very one. Where on earth did you get it?" + +"Wrapped around the child." + +"Aunty, pray tell me what in the world does all this mean?" exclaimed +Gipsy. + +For reply, Mrs. Gower briefly narrated what had been told her by Mrs. +Donne. The surprise of Gipsy may be imagined, but her surprise scarcely +equaled her pleasure. + +"Thank God!" she fervently exclaimed, as Mrs. Gower ceased, "then I have +_not_ married the murderer of my mother--that thought would have +rendered me wretched to my dying day. My mother, then, may be living +yet, for all you know." + +In her exultation Gipsy first rode over to tell Celeste, then coming +home she seated herself and wrote the following letter to Louis: + + + "SUNSET HALL, ST. MARK'S,} + December 23, 18--. } + + "DEAR LOUIS: In my last I told you I was the child of your Aunt + Esther, and Alfred Oranmore; since then I have discovered we were + mistaken. My father and yours, Louis, were the same--who my + mother was, I know not; but Aunty Gower has shown me a likeness + found on my father's neck when dead, representing a young and + lovely girl, who must have been my mother; for though the picture + is fair, and I am dark, yet they say they can trace a strong + resemblance between us. It seems I was taken away by the nurse + the night of my birth, and left on the shore, where aunty found + me. What has become of their infant is yet unknown, but it may be + it, too, was saved, and will yet be found. How singularly things + are turning out! Who would ever think we were brother and sister? + Do hasten home, dear Louis, more hearts than one are longing for + your coming. I have a thousand things yet to tell you, but you + know I hate writing, so I will wait until I see you. Your + affectionate _sister_, + GIPSY." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +THE HEIRESS OF SUNSET HALL. + + "A perfect woman, nobly planned, + To warm, to comfort, and command; + And yet a spirit still and bright, + With something of an angel light."--WORDSWORTH. + +The darkened rooms, the hushed footfalls, the whispered words, the +anxious faces, betoken the presence of sickness. Like some long, dark +effigy, Miss Hagar lies on her bed, prostrated in body and mind, and +sick unto death. By her side sits Celeste, in a quiet dress of soft +gray, her golden hair lying in bands on her fair cheeks, pale and thin +with long days and nights of unceasing watching. + +Never had the tender love and cherishing care of the young girl been so +manifested as in the sick-room of her benefactress. Night and day, like +some angel of mercy, she hovered over the couch of the invalid--ready at +the slightest motion to hold the cup to her parched lips, or bathe her +burning brow. Nothing could induce her to leave her side, save, when +tired Nature could watch no longer, she sought her couch to catch a few +moments' sleep. And Miss Hagar, with the usual fretful waywardness of +illness, would have no one near her but Celeste. Gipsy had offered her +services as assistant nurse, but was most promptly rejected. + +"I want Celeste. Where is Celeste?" was ever the cry of the invalid. + +It was the second week of Miss Hagar's illness. For days she had been +raving deliriously, recognizing no one, not even Celeste. Toward the +close of the tenth day she grew worse, and the doctor pronounced the +crisis of her disease at hand. + +Evening was approaching, the evening of a bleak January day. The snow +was falling drearily without; and the cold wind wailed and moaned around +the lonely house. The fire, burning low in the grate, cast a red, +fitful, uncertain light through the room, giving everything an +unearthly, spectral appearance. Celeste sat by the window, her chin +resting on her hand, her eyes fixed on the desolate prospect without, +her mind and heart far away--far away. Her face was wet with tears, but +she knew it not; sobs, long and deep, that she struggled in vain to +repress, swelled her bosom. Never in her life had she felt so utterly +desolate; yet a sort of awe mingled with her tears, as she felt herself +in the presence of death. + +Night fell in storm and darkness. In the deep gloom, nothing could be +discerned save the white; unearthly light of the drifting snow. Celeste +arose, drew the curtain, lit a small lamp, and was about to resume her +seat, when she heard her name pronounced by the lips of the invalid. + +In a moment she was bending over her. Reason had returned to its throne; +and for the first time in many weeks, Miss Hagar recognized her. + +"Thank God!" exclaimed Celeste, joyfully. "Dear Miss Hagar, do you not +know me?" + +"Certainly, Celeste," said the invalid, passing her hand across her +eyes, as if to clear away a mist. "I have been ill, have I not?" + +"Yes; but now you will recover. I feared you would never speak to me +more; but now you will get well, and we will be happy together once +more." + +"No, child, I will never get well. Something here tells me that I am +called," said Miss Hagar, solemnly, laying her hand on her heart. "I am +sinking fast, and perhaps I may never see the morning dawn. I wish I +could see them all before I die. Send for my brother and Archie Rivers, +and little Gipsy, and Minnette! Poor Minnette! I have been harsh to her +sometimes, I am afraid; and I would ask her pardon before I depart. Why +don't you send for them, Celeste?" + +What should she do? What ought she to say? How could she tell her what +had happened? + +"Dear Miss Hagar," she said, gently, "neither the doctor, nor Minnette, +nor Archie, are at home. But if you will see Gipsy, I will go for her." + +"All gone! all gone!" murmured the sick woman, feebly, "scattered far +and wide. But you, Celeste, you have stood by me through all; you have +been the staff and comfort of my old age. May God bless you for it! +Truly has he said: 'Cast thy bread upon the waters, and it shall return +unto thee after many days.' But, child, have you never wondered who you +were; have you never wished to know who were your parents?" + +"Oh, yes, often!" replied Celeste, eagerly, "but I knew, when the proper +time came, you would tell me; so I never asked." + +"Well, that time has come at last. It is but little I can tell; for I +neither know who you are, nor what is your name. The way you came under +my care is simply this: + +"One night, as I was returning home from the village, at an unusually +late hour, a little girl came running out from a wretched hovel, and +begged me to enter with her, for her aunty, as she called her, was +dying. I went in, and found an old woman lying on a heap of rags and +straw, whose end was evidently at hand. I did what I could for her; but +I saw she was sinking fast. Her whole care seemed to be for her little +girl, who crouched at the foot of the bed, weeping bitterly. In her +anxiety for her, she seemed to forget her own sufferings. + + +"'What will she do when I am gone? Who will protect her and care for her +in this selfish world? + +"Is she an orphan?" I asked. + +"'That I do not know. The child is a foundling, and no relation to me; +but I love her as though she were my own child. Oh! what will become of +her when I am gone? + +"'And have you no clue to her birth? + +"'None. One Christmas eve, about twelve years ago, my husband was caught +in a storm coming from A----. As he was hurrying along by the shore +road, he saw a sleigh in advance of him, and hastened on in hopes to +overtake it. In his hurry his foot struck against something on the +ground, and he stumbled and fell. As he arose, he turned to examine it; +and judge of his surprise at finding it to be a young infant, wrapped in +a long shawl, and sweetly sleeping. In his astonishment he stood rooted +to the ground, unable to move, and the sleigh passed on, and was soon +out of sight. It was evident to him that the inmates of the sleigh had +either left it there to perish, or it had accidentally fallen out. In +either case, the only thing he could do was to take it home, which he +did; and handed it to me, half frozen, the next morning. Our own little +girl was dead; and this child seemed so like a god-send to fill her +place, that I received it with joy, and resolved to adopt it, if its +parents never claimed it. For months we lived in the constant dread that +it would be taken from us; but years passed on, and no inquiry was ever +made concerning it. We named her Celeste; for there was something truly +celestial in her sweet, angel-like face, and loving nature; and never +did parents love any only child as we did her. + +"'We were in very comfortable circumstances then; but when Celeste was +about eight years old, my husband died; and after that everything seemed +against us. We got poorer and poorer; and I was forced to take in +sewing, to keep us from starving. For nearly four years I worked at +this, stitching away from daylight till dark; and then scarcely able to +keep soul and body together. Celeste assisted me nobly; but at length my +health began to fail, and I resolved to leave the city. My husband's +friends had formerly resided here, and I was in hopes of finding them; +but when I came, I learned that they were all gone. Last night I was +taken dangerously ill; and now I feel that I am dying; and my poor +Celeste will be left utterly friendless and alone. She is beautiful, as +you see; and what her fate may be, should she live to grow up, I dare +not think of. My poor, poor Celeste! + +"The deep affliction of the dying woman, and the heartfelt grief of the +child, touched me deeply. I resolved that the poor orphan should not be +left to struggle alone through the world. I was not rich, but still I +was able to provide for her. In a few brief words I told her my +resolution; and never shall I forget the fervent gratitude that beamed +from the dying eyes, as she listened. + +"'May God forever bless you!' she exclaimed, 'and may the Father of the +fatherless reward you for this! + +"That night she died; and next day she was buried at the expense of the +parish. I took you home; and since then you have been my sole earthly +joy, Celeste; and now that I am dying, I leave you, as a legacy, your +history. Perhaps some day you may yet discover your parents, if they +live." + +Utterly exhausted, Miss Hagar's lips ceased to move. During all the time +she had been speaking, Celeste had remained as if riveted to the spot, +with an emotion unnoticed by Miss Hagar. Her pale face grew whiter and +whiter, her eyes were slowly dilating, her lips parted; until, when the +spinster ceased, her head dropped on her hands, while she exclaimed, +half aloud: + +"Can I believe my ears? Then I am that other child left to perish on the +beach that stormy Christmas Eve. Good heavens! Can it be that I am the +child of Esther Erliston? Have I discovered who I am at last?" + +"What are you saying there?" said Miss Hagar, feebly. + +"Miss Hagar!" exclaimed Celeste, starting with sudden energy to her +feet, "I am going to Sunset Hall, for Squire Erliston. You must repeat +this story to him; it concerns him more than you are aware of, and will +clear up a mystery he cannot now penetrate." + +"As you please, child," said Miss Hagar, too weak to resist; "but you +will not stay long?" + +"No; I will be back in less than an hour," replied Celeste, whose cheeks +were now flushed, and her eye burning with excitement, as she seized her +cloak and hood, and hurried into the kitchen. + +Curly, their only servant, was dozing in her chair by the hearth. +Rousing her up, Celeste sent her in to watch with her patient until her +return. + +"Remember you must not fall asleep until my return; I will be back very +shortly," said the young mistress, as she tied on her mantle. + +"But laws! misses, you ain't a goin' out in de storm to-night!" said +Curly, opening her eyes in wonder. + +"Yes, I must, for an hour or so. Secure the door, and do not leave Miss +Hagar until I come back," said Celeste, as she opened the door. + +A blinding drift of snow met her in the face; a fierce gust of wind +pierced through her wrappings, and sent the embers on the hearth +whirling redly through the room. It required all her strength to close +the door after her, but she succeeded, after two or three efforts, and +stepped out into the wild wintry storm. + +At length St. Mark's was reached; and looking up, she could see the +welcome lights of Sunset Hall streaming redly and warmly on the cold, +drifting snow. Elevated above the village, its windows glowing with +light, it looked the very picture of a home of ease and luxury. + +The sight imparted new energy to her drooping limbs; and hurrying still +more rapidly forward, in five minutes more she stood before the +astonished inmates of the hall, all white with falling snow. + +For a wonder Gipsy was at home. She sat gazing into the glowing fire--a +sad, dreamy look on her usually bright, dark face--her little hands +folded listlessly in her lap, thinking of one far away; the squire, +utterly disregarding all the laws of etiquette, was smoking his pipe +placidly in his arm-chair; and Mrs. Gower sat dozing in the chimney +corner; Lizzie had been driven to her chamber by the choking fumes of +the tobacco. + +"Good Heavens! Celeste! what has happened? What has brought you out +to-night in this storm?" exclaimed Gipsy, springing in dismay to her +feet, as Celeste--her garments covered with snow-flakes--stood before +them, like a moving frost-maiden. + +The squire, equally dismayed, had taken his pipe from his mouth, and sat +staring at her in utter bewilderment; while Mrs. Gower, roused from her +slumbers, arose from her seat, and drew her over to the fire. + +"No, thank you, Mrs. Gower, I cannot sit," said Celeste, hurriedly. +"Miss Hagar is dying, and has an important revelation to make to you, +sir. It is necessary you should hear it. Will you accompany me back?" +she said, turning to the squire. + +"Dying! important revelations! Lord bless me!" ejaculated the squire; +"won't it do to-morrow?" he added, as a wild blast made the windows +rattle. "I don't care about venturing out in this storm." + +"You shall go, Guardy," said Gipsy, rising impetuously, "and I'll go, +too. Sit down and warm yourself, Celeste--we'll be ready in five +minutes. Aunty Gower, please ring for Jupe. Pity if you can't venture +out in the storm, when Celeste has walked here in it to tell you. Jupe," +she added, as that sable individual entered, "be off and bring round the +carriage, and don't be longer than five minutes, at your peril! Here, +Totty! Totty! bring down my hood, and mantle, and furs; and your +master's hat, gloves, and greatcoat. Quick, there!" + +Utterly bewildered by the rapidity with which these orders were given, +the squire, unable to resist, found himself enveloped in his fur-lined +greatcoat, seated in the carriage, between the two girls, ere he found +voice to protest against such summary proceedings. + +The fierceness of the storm, which increased in violence, precluded the +possibility of entering into conversation; and the explanation was, +therefore, of necessity, deferred until they stood safely within the +cozy kitchen of Valley Cottage. + +In a few brief words, Celeste gave them to understand that it concerned +that "other child," left that eventful Christmas eve on the bleak stormy +beach. This was sufficient to rivet their attention; and the squire, in +his anxiety and impatience, forced his way into the sick-room, and stood +by the bedside of Miss Hagar. + +"Sorry to see you so sick, Miss Hagar; 'pon my life I am. I never +expected to see you confined to your bed. Celeste--Miss Pearl, I +mean--has told me you have something of the greatest importance to +communicate to me." + +"I do not see how it can possibly concern you, Squire Erliston," said +Miss Hagar, faintly; "but since it is Celeste's desire, I have no +objection to relate to you what I have already told her. Oh!" said the +sufferer, turning over with a groan. + +"Curly, leave the room," said Gipsy, who now entered; while Celeste +tenderly raised the head of the invalid, and held a strengthening +draught to her lips. Brokenly, feebly, and with many interruptions did +the dying woman repeat her tale. Wonder, incredulity, and amazement were +alternately depicted on the countenances of the squire and Gipsy, as +they listened. She ceased at last; and totally exhausted, turned wearily +aside. + +"Then you, Celeste, are that child. You are the heiress of Sunset Hall! +Wonderful! wonderful!" ejaculated Gipsy, pale with breathless interest. + +"And my grandchild!" said the squire, gazing upon her like one +bewildered. + +"Hush!" said Celeste, in a choking voice, "she is dying." + +It was even so. The mysterious shadow of death had fallen on that grim +face, softening its gaunt outline into a look of strange, deep awe. The +eyes had a far-off, mystic gaze, as if striving to behold something dim +and distant. + +All had fallen on their knees, and Celeste's choking sobs alone broke +the silence. + +The sound seemed to disturb Miss Hagar. She turned her face, with a +troubled look, on the grief-bowed head of the young girl. + +"Do not weep for me, Celeste, but for yourself. Who will care for you +when I am dead?" + +"I will!" said the squire, solemnly; "she is my own flesh and blood, and +all that I have is hers. She is the long-lost, the rightful heiress of +Mount Sunset Hall." + +A smile of ineffable peace settled on that dying face. "Then I can go in +peace," she said; "my last care is gone. Good-bye, Celeste. God bless +you all! Tell my brother I spoke of him; and ask Minnette to forgive me. +Minnette--Minnette----" + +The words died away. She spoke no more. Her long, weary pilgrimage was +over, and Miss Hagar was at rest. + +"Don't cry--don't cry," said the squire, dashing a tear from his own +eyes, as he stooped over the grief-convulsed form of Celeste. "She's +gone the way of all flesh, the way we must all go some day. Everybody +must die, you know; it's only natural they should. 'In the midst of +death we are in life,' as Solomon says." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +"LAST SCENE OF ALL." + + "Then come the wild weather, come sleet, or snow, + We will stand by each other, however it blow-- + Oppression, and sickness, and sorrow, and pain, + Shall be to our true love as links to the chain." + --LONGFELLOW. + +Two months have passed away. It is a balmy, genial day in March. Never +shone the sun brighter, never looked St. Mark's fairer; but within +Sunset Hall all is silent and gloomy. The very servants step around on +tiptoe, with hushed voices and noiseless footfalls. The squire is not in +his usual seat, and the parlor is tenanted only by Gipsy and Celeste. +The former is pacing up and down the room, with a face almost deadly +pale, with sternly-compressed lips, and sad, gloomy eyes. Celeste is +kneeling like one in prayer, her face buried in her hands; she, too, is +pale with awe and horror. To-day, Dr. Wiseman _dies on the scaffold_. +They needed no evidence to condemn him. Fear seemed to have paralyzed +his cowardly soul, and he confessed all; and from the moment he heard +his sentence, he settled down in a stupor of despair, from which nothing +could arouse him. + +The sound of carriage-wheels coming up the avenue roused them both, at +last. Celeste sprang to her feet, and both stood breathless, when the +door opened, and Squire Erliston entered. + +"Well?" came from the eager lips of Gipsy. + +"All is over," said the squire, gloomily, sinking into a seat. "I +visited him in prison, but he did not know me--he only stared at me with +a look of stupid imbecility. I could not arouse him for a long time, +until, at last, I mentioned your name, Gipsy; then he held out his arms +before him, as well as his chains would allow, and cried out, in a voice +of agony I will never forget: 'Keep her off! keep her off! she will +murder me!' Seeing I could do nothing for him, I came away; and in that +state of stupid insensibility, he was launched into eternity." + +Celeste, sick and faint with terror, sank into a seat and covered her +face with her hands, and Gipsy shuddered slightly. + +"And so he has perished--died in his sins," she said, at last. "Once, I +vowed never to forgive him; but I retract that oath. May heaven forgive +him, as I do! And now, I never want to hear his name again." + +"But Minnette, where can she be? Who will tell her of this?" said +Celeste, looking up. + +"It is most strange what can have become of her," said the squire. "I +have spared no pains to discover her, but, so far, all has been in vain. +Heaven alone knows whether she is living or dead." + +"It is like her usual eccentricity," said Gipsy. "I know not where she +is, yet I feel a sort of presentiment we will meet her again." + + * * * * * + +"Gipsy, come here," called good Mrs. Gower, one day, about a fortnight +after, as that young lady passed by her room on her way down stairs. + +"Well, what is it?" said Gipsy, entering, and standing with her back to +the door. + +"Just look at this likeness; have you ever seen anybody like it?" + +Gipsy took it, and looked long and earnestly. + +"Well," said she, at length, "if I were a little less tawny, and had +blue eyes and yellow hair, I should say it looked remarkably like +myself--only I never, the best of times, had such a pretty face." + +"Well, I was just struck by its resemblance to you. I think it must be +your mother's picture." + +"My mother's picture! My dear Aunty Gower, whatever put such an absurd +notion into your head?" + +"Because I am quite sure it is. Its very resemblance to you proves this; +besides, I found it on your poor father's neck when he was dead." + +"It is a sweet face," said Gipsy, heaving a wistful little sigh. "Who +knows whether the original be living or dead? Oh, Aunty Gower! it may be +that I still have a mother living in some quarter of the globe, who is +ignorant she yet has a daughter alive. If I could only think so I would +travel the world over to find her." + +At this moment Totty burst into the room, her black face all aglow with +delight. + +"Oh, misses! Oh, Misses Sour! Oh, Misses Gipsy! guess who's 'rived," she +breathlessly exclaimed. + +"Who? who?" exclaimed both, eagerly. + +"Young Marse Louis! he's down in de parlor wid----" + +But without waiting to hear more, Gipsy sprang from the room, burst +into the parlor, and beheld Louis standing in the middle of the floor, +and the living counterpart of the picture she had just seen, leaning on +his arm! + +"Gipsy! my sister!" he exclaimed, but before he could advance toward +her, a wild, passionate cry broke from the lips of the strange lady, as +she sprang forward, and clasped the astonished Gipsy in her arms. + +"My daughter! my daughter!" she cried, covering her face with burning +kisses. + +Gipsy grew deadly pale; she strove to speak; but wonder and joy chained +her ever-ready tongue. + +"She is your mother, Gipsy," said Louis, answering her wild look. "I +leave her to explain all to you; your letters first revealed all to me. +But Celeste--where is she?" + +"In the drawing-room, reading," was the reply. + +He hastily quitted the room, and noiselessly opened the drawing-room +door; Celeste was there, but not reading. She was lying on a lounge, her +face hidden in the cushions, her hands clasped over her eyes to repress +her falling tears, her heart yearning for the living and the dead. Her +thoughts were of him she believed far away; what were wealth and honors +to her, without him? Her tears fell fast and faster, while she +involuntarily exclaimed: "Oh, Louis, Louis! where are you now?" + +"Here, by your side, Celeste, never to leave it more!" he answered, +folding her suddenly in his arms. + + "'Twas his own voice, she could not err! + Throughout the breathing world's extent + There was but _one_ such voice for her-- + So kind, so soft, so eloquent." + +With a wild cry, she unclasped her hands from her eyes and looked +up--looked up to encounter those dear, dark eyes, she had never expected +to see more. + +Great was the surprise of everybody, at this double arrival; and many +were the explanations that followed. + +There was Louis, who had to explain how he had met Madame Evelini, and +how he had learned her story; and how, on reading Gipsy's account of the +tale told by Mrs. Donne, he had known immediately who was her mother. +Then, though the task was a painful one, he was forced to recur to the +fate of Minnette, and set their anxiety as rest about her. She had gone +to Italy with some friends, he said; he met her there, and learned from +her she was about to take the vail, and there they would find her, safe. +Then Gipsy had to recount, at length, all that had transpired since his +departure--which was but briefly touched upon in her letters. + +It was a strange meeting, when the two living wives of the dead husband +stood face to face. Lizzie, too listless and languid to betray much +emotion of any kind, listened with faint curiosity; but tears sprang +into the eyes of Madame Evelini, as she stooped to kiss the pale brow of +the little lady. She refused to be called Mrs. Oranmore; saying that +Lizzie had held the title longest, and it should still be hers. + +"And now there is one other matter to arrange," said Louis, taking the +hand of Celeste; "and that is, your consent to our union. Will you +bestow upon me, sir, the hand of your grandchild?" + +"To be sure, I will," said the squire, joyfully. "I was just going to +propose, myself, that we should end the play with a wedding. We've all +been in the dismals long enough, but a marriage will set us all right +again. Come here, you baggage," turning to Celeste, who was blushing +most becomingly; "will you have this graceless scamp, here, for your +lord and master? He needs somebody to look after him, or he'll be +running to Timbuctoo, or Italy, or some of those heathenish places, +to-morrow or next day--just as he did before. Do you consent to take +charge of him, and keep him in trim for the rest of his life?" + +"Ye-es, sir," said Celeste, looking down, and speaking in the slow, +hesitating tone of her childhood. + +"Hooray! there's a sensible answer for you. Now I propose that the +wedding takes place forthwith. Where's the good of losing time? 'Never +delay till to-morrow what you can do to-day,' as Solomon says. What's +your opinion, good folks?" + +"Mine's decidedly the same as yours, sir," said Louis, promptly. + +"Then suppose the affair comes off to-morrow," said the squire, in a +business-like tone. + +"Oh! no, no!" said Celeste, with such a look of alarm, that the others +laughed outright; "a month--two months--" + +"Nonsense," said the squire, gruffly, "two months indeed--no, nor two +weeks, either. Next Thursday, at the furthest. You can have all your +trumpery ready by that time." + +"You will have to yield, Celeste," said Gipsy. "Just see how imploringly +Louis looks!" + +"That's too soon," said Celeste, still pleading for a reprieve. "I never +could be ready----" + +"Yes, you could," cut in Gipsy. "I'll engage to have everything +prepared; and, like Marshal Ney, when I enter the field, the battle is +won. Now, not another word. Louis, can't you make her hold her tongue? +My dear mother, you must try your eloquence." + +"You will have to yield, my dear," said Madame, smiling; "there is no +use attempting to resist this impetuous daughter of mine." + +"Of course there's not," said Gipsy--"everybody does as I tell them. +Now, Louis, take the future Mrs. Oranmore out of this. Aunty Gower and I +have got to lay our heads together (figuratively speaking); for on our +shoulders, I suppose, must devolve all the bother and bustle of +preparation." + +Gipsy was in her element during the rest of the week. + +The wedding was to be private--the recent death of Miss Hagar and Dr. +Wiseman rendering the country fashion of a ball in the evening out of +the question; but still they had a busy time of it in Sunset Hall. It +was arranged that the newly-wedded pair should go abroad immediately +after their marriage, accompanied by Gipsy and her mother. + +The wedding-day dawned, bright and beautiful, as all wedding-days +should. Celeste wished to be married in the church, and no one thought +of opposing her will. Gipsy stood beside her, robed in white; and if her +face rivaled in pallor the dress she wore, it was thinking of her own +gloomy bridal, and of him who had bade her an eternal farewell that +night. Mrs. Gower was there, looking very fat, and happy, and +respectable, in the venerable brown satin, that was never donned save on +an occasion like the present. Lizzie was there, too, supported by Madame +Evelini, and looking less listless and far more cheerful than she had +been for many a day. There was the squire, looking very pompous and +dogmatical, waiting to give the bride away, and repeating, inwardly, all +the proverbs he could recollect, by way of offering up a prayer for +their happiness. There was Louis, so tall, and stately, and handsome, +looking the very happiest individual in existence. And lastly, there was +our own Celeste--our "Star of the Valley"--sweeter and fairer than ever, +with her blushing face, and drooping eyes, and gentle heart fluttering +with joy and happiness. + +The church was crowded to excess; and a universal buzz of admiration +greeted the bridal pair, as they entered. Beneath the gaze of a hundred +eyes they moved up the aisle, and + + "Before the altar now they stand--the bridegroom and the bride; + And who can tell what lovers feel in this, their hour of pride." + +A few words and all was over; and leaning on the arm of the proud and +happy Louis, Celeste received the congratulations of her friends. + +Breakfast awaited them on their return to the hall. Immediately after, +they were to start for Washington; but before departing, Celeste, +turning to Louis, said: + +"Before I go, I would visit the grave of poor Miss Hagar. Come with me." + +It was not far from Sunset Hall. A white marble tombstone marked the +spot, bearing the inscription: + + SACRED TO THE MEMORY + OF + HAGAR WISEMAN. + +And underneath were the words: + + "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord." + +Tears fell fast from the eyes of Celeste, as she knelt by that lonely +grave; but they were not all tears of sorrow. + + * * * * * + +"And this is Venice! Bless me! what a queer-looking old place!" +exclaimed Gipsy, lying back amid the cushions of a gondola. "How in the +world do they manage to make everything look so funny? This gondola, or +whatever they call it, is quite a comfortable place to go to sleep in. +I'll bring one of them home to sail on the bay--I will, as sure as +shooting. Maybe it won't astonish the natives, slightly. Well this _is_ +a nice climate, and no mistake. I don't think I'd have any objection to +pitching my tent here, myself. What's this the poet says-- + + "If woman can make the worst wilderness dear, + Think, think what a heaven she would make of this 'ere!" + +"Oh, what a shame! to parody the 'Light of the Harem,'" said Celeste, +laughing. "But here we are, on land." + +It was the day after their arrival in Venice; and, now, under the +guidance of Louis, they were going, in a body, to visit Minnette. + +They reached the convent, and were admitted by the old portress--who, as +if it were a matter of course, ushered them into the chapel and left +them. + +For a moment, the whole party stood still in awe. The church was hung +with black, and dimly lighted by wax tapers. Clouds of incense filled +the air, and the black-robed figures of the nuns looked like shadows, as +they knelt in prayer. Many strangers were present, but a deep, solemn +hush reigned around. + +The cause of all this was soon explained. At the foot of the altar, +robed in her nun's dress, the lifeless form of one of the sisterhood lay +in state. The beautiful face, shaded by the long, black vail, wore an +expression of heavenly peace; the white hands clasped a crucifix to the +cold breast. A nun stood at her head, and another at her feet--holding +lighted tapers in their hands--so still and motionless, that they +resembled statues. + +_It was Minnette!_ Their hearts almost ceased to beat, as they gazed. +The look of deep calm--of child-like rest--on her face, forbade sorrow, +but inspired awe. More lovely, and far more gentle than she had ever +looked in life, she lay, with a smile still wreathing the sweet, +beautiful lips. The blind eyes saw at last. + +Suddenly, the deep, solemn stillness was broken, by the low, mournful +wail of the organ; and like a wild cry, many voices chanted forth the +dirge: + + "_Dies irae, dies illa + Solvet saeclum in favilla. + Pie Jesu Dominie, + Dona eis requiem._" + +Not one heart there, but echoed the burden of the grand old hymn: + + "Lord of mercy--Jesus blest, + Grant thy servant light and rest!" + +"Let us go--this scene is too much for you," said Louis, as Celeste +clung, pale and trembling, to his arm. And together they quitted the +convent. + +They were followed by one, who, leaning against a pillar, had watched +them intently all the time. He stepped after them into the street; and +Louis, suddenly looking up, beheld him. + +"Archie!" he cried, in a tone of mingled amazement and delight. + +A stifled shriek broke from the lips of Gipsy, at the name. Yes, it was +indeed our old friend Archie--no longer the laughing, fun-loving Archie +of other days, but looking pale, and thin, and almost stern. + +"O, _dear_ Archie! how glad I am to see you again!" exclaimed Celeste, +seizing one of his hands, while Louis wrung the other; and Gipsy drew +back, turning first red, and then pale, and then red again. Madame +Evelini, alone, looked very much puzzled what to make of the whole +affair. + +"Surely, you have not forgotten your old friend, Gipsy?" said Louis, at +last, stepping aside and placing them face to face. + +"I am happy to meet you again, Mrs. Wiseman," said Archie, bowing +coldly. + +"Well, if you _are_," said Louis, looking at him with a doubtful +expression, "your looks most confoundedly belie your words. Let me +present you to Madame Evelini, Mrs. Wiseman's mother." + +"Her mother!" cried the astonished Archie. + +"Why, yes. Surely, you don't mean to say you have not heard of the +strange events that have lately taken place at St. Mark's?" + +"Even so; I am in a state of most lamentable ignorance. I pray you, +enlighten me." + +"What! have you not even heard that your uncle--Dr. Wiseman--and Miss +Hagar were dead?" + +"Dead!" said Archie, starting, and looking at Gipsy, whose face was now +hidden by her vail. + +"Yes; but I see you know nothing about it. Come home with us, and you +shall hear all." + +"Yes, do," urged Celeste; "Louis and I will be delighted to have you +join us." + +"Louis and _I_," repeated Archie, rather mischievously; "then I perceive +I have the honor of addressing Mrs. Oranmore." + +Of course, Celeste laughed and blushed, according to the rule in such +cases. But the scene they had just witnessed had saddened the whole +party; and the journey back was performed in silence. Gipsy was the +gravest of all; and, leaning back in the gondola, with her vail over her +face, she never condescended to open her lips, save when directly +addressed; and then her answers were much shorter than sweet. + +But when they went home, to their hotel, and everything was explained, +and he had learned how Gipsy had been forced into a marriage she +abhorred, and the terrible retribution that befell the murderer, matters +began to assume a different appearance. Mr. Rivers had long been of the +opinion that "it is not good for man to be alone," and firmly believed +in the scriptural injunction of becoming a husband of one wife; and +concluded, by proposing in due form to Gipsy--who, after some pressing, +consented to make him happy. + +"But not till we go home," was the reply to all his entreaties. "I'm +just going to get married at dear old St. Mark's, and no place else; and +give Aunty Gower a chance to give her brown satin dress another +airing--as ours is likely to be the last wedding at Sunset Hall for some +time, unless Guardy takes it into his head to get married. Now, you +needn't coax; I won't have you till we get home, that's flat." And to +this resolution she adhered, in spite of all his persuasions. + +The bridal tour was, of necessity, much shortened by the desperate haste +of Archie--who, like the man with the cork leg, seemed unable to rest in +any place; and tore like a comet through Europe, and breathed not freely +until they stood once more on American soil. + +And three weeks after, a wedding took place at St. Mark's, that +surpassed everything of the kind that had ever been heard of before. +Good Aunty Gower was in ecstasies; and the squire, before the party +dispersed, full of champagne and emotion, arose to propose a toast. + +"Ladies and fellow-citizens: On the present interesting occasion, I rise +to"--here the speaker took a pinch of snuff--"I rise to"--here a violent +sneeze interrupted him, and drew from him the involuntary remark: "Lord! +what a cold I've got!--as I was saying, I rise to propose the health and +happiness of the bride and bridegroom;" (cheers) "like the flag of our +native land, long may they wave!" (desperate cheering). "Marriage, like +liberty, is a great institution; and I would advise every single man +present to try it. If he has heretofore given up the idea, let him pluck +up courage and try again. 'Better late than never,' as Solomon says." + + + THE END. + + + +--------------------------------------------------------------+ + | | + | Transcriber's Note:-- | + | | + | Punctuation errors have been corrected. | + | | + | The following suspected printer's errors have been addressed.| + | | + | Page 42. excssses changed to excesses. | + | (these excesses at last) | + | | + | Page 47. missing word 'to' added. | + | (not long to wait) | + | | + | Page 57. besure changed to be sure. | + | (to be sure you will) | + | | + | Page 60. natter changed to matter. | + | (what's the matter?" said Lizzie) | + | | + | Page 94. inignantly changed to indignantly. | + | (indignantly exclaimed Gipsy) | + | | + | Page 121. necesstiy changed to necessity. | + | (there's no necessity) | + | | + | Page 126. vanishsd changed to vanished. | + | (looks of surprise vanished) | + | | + | Page 132. she changed to he. | + | (For a moment he expected) | + | | + | Page 188. But changed to Out. | + | (Out with the boats) | + | | + | Page 194. duplicate word 'he' removed. | + | (after he had answered) | + | | + | Page 225. momory changed to memory. | + | (by the memory of all) | + | | + | Page 275. gilt changed to gift. | + | (his parting gift) | + | | + | Page 281. absense changed to absence | + | (me during your absence) | + | | + | Page 283. under changed to until. | + | (you did love me, until this) | + | | + | Page 289. woman changed to women. | + | (when two jealous women love each other) | + | | + | Page 309. object changed to objects. | + | (an old man objects to your want) | + | | + | Page 384. guardy changed to Guardy | + | (unless Guardy takes it into his head) | + | | + +--------------------------------------------------------------+ + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sharing Her Crime, by May Agnes Fleming + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHARING HER CRIME *** + +***** This file should be named 35462.txt or 35462.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/4/6/35462/ + +Produced by Brenda Lewis, woodie4 and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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