J0* >2^. OF CALIF. LIBRAE?, MS ANGELES POPULAR NOVELS. BY MAT AGNES FLEMING. 1. GUT EARLSCOURT'S WIFE. 8. A WONDERFUL WOMAN. 8. A TERRIBLE SECRET. 4. NORINE'S REVENGE. 6. A MAP MARRIAGE. 6. ONE NIGHT'S MYSTEKT. 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 (JVew). " Mrs. Fleming's stories are growing more and more popular every day. Their delineations of character, life-like conversations, flashes of wit, con- Htantly varying scenes, and deeply inter- esting plots, combine to place their author in the very first rank of Modern Novelists." All published uniform with this volume. Price, $1.90 each, and sent free by mail on receipt of price, 6. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishers, New York. SHARING HER CRIME. 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. Carle f on & Co., Publishers. LONDON : S. LOW & CO. MDCCCLXXXIII. * Stereotyped by TBOW SAMUEL STODDEB, PMNTINQ AND BOOK BINDING Co . 00 ANN STREET, N. Y. N. Y. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PACK 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 w 2129504 CONTENTS. CHAPTER 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. 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 happi- ness. 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 in- fo] 8 THE PLOTTERS. creased 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 sil- very peal of laughter would break easily on the way- farer'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, yel- lowish 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, yawn- THE PLOTTERS. 9 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. 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 bro;vs 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 io THE PLOTTERS. 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 alma- nacs. This prepossessing gentleman was arrayed in an im- maculate suit of black, with a spotless white dickey, bristling with starch and dignity, and a most excruciat- ing 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 pom- pous tone which, considering his size, was quite impos- ing. "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. THE PL O TTERS. 1 1 " 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. "Pis but to - " She paused, and fixed her eyes on his face with such a wild sort of gleam that, involuntarily, he quailed be- fore her. " Pray go on, madam. I'm all attention," he said, almost fearing to break the dismal silence. " 'Tis but " Make away with a woman and child !" " Murder them ?" said the doctor, involuntarily recoil- ing. " Do not use that word !" she said, sharply. " Cow- ard ! 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 preci- ous neck. Fear not, rny good friend ; there is no danger of its ever being discovered." " But, my dear madam," said the doctor, glancing un- easily 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. 12 THE PLOTTERS. "Go !" she said, fiercely, pointing to the door, " You have refused to share my crime. Go ! poor cowardly pol- troon ! 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 b.e 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. Doc- tor 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 discov- ered ! With rather unpleasant vividness, the vision of a hangman and halter arose before him, and he involun- tarily 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?" THE PLOTTERS. 13 " 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 explana- tion 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 wid- ower 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 j but, of course, when at home, Barry was treated best. Alfred Oranmore had all the pride of his English forefathers, and scorned to com- plain ; 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 : i 4 THE PLOTTERS. " 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 an- ger, 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 ab- surdity 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, with- out much difficulty, frighten Esther into compliance when all our schemes were suddenly frustrated by that meddler, that busy-body, Alfred Oranmore." THE PLOTTERS. 15 She paused, and again her eyes gleamed with concen- trated 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 secret- ly, 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 Or- anmore, with two or three other young men, going out one day for a sail, was overtaken by a sudden squall they 1 6 THE PLOTTERS. 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 pov- erty 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 re- luctance. "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 contra- dict 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 THE PLOTTERS. 17 for my indignation I could laugh at the utter absur- dity." 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 di- rection, but said nothing. "Doctor," continued Mrs. Oranmore, in a low, stern, impressive voice, while her piercing eyes seemed read- ing 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 1" " 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, fur- nished 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. 1 8 THE DEATH OF ESTHER. " 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. OR a moment he stood still, stunned and be- wildered. 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 yourig 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, THE DEATH OF ESTHER. 19 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 ; // 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 dis- posed of." "Must it die, too?" ' 20 THE DEATH OF ESTHER. "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 re- fuse nothing, and tell no tales ? Never hesitate, man ! You have gone too far to draw back. Think of the re- ward ; 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 per- spiration 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 grow- ing 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 THE DEATH OF ESTHER. 21 be overheard, and might give rise to disagreeable re- marks." 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 her- self 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 un- natural, 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 22 THE DEATH OF ESTHER. 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 mur- derers 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 lieiress 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 s/ie?" 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 dis- secting-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'" 11 You shall be obeyed, madam," said Doctor Wise- man, catching the infection of her reckless spirit. He stooped and raised the infant, who was still in a deep sleep. THE DEATH OF ESTHER. 23 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 him- self. Holding the still sleeping infant closer in his arms, he hurried on, until he stood on the sloping bank command- ing 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 know- ing 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 24 THE ASTROLOGER. 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 strengthen 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. 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. "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 ASTROLOGER. 25 the hand of destiny has driven me here, to show me what is yet to come. Well, it is useless going home or at- tempting 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 cau- tiously 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 wil 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 fol- low 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 visi- tors. The doctor glanced around with intense curiosity, not un mingled with awe. The floor was painted black, and the walls were hung with dark tapestry, cov- ered with all manner of cabalistic figures. Skulls, crucibles, magic mirrors, tame serpents, vipers, and all 2 26 THE ASTROLOGER. 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 person- age, 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 pre- liminaries, 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 pre- dictions ; and therefore, bluntly announcing his skepti- pism, he demanded to know something of the past. THE ASTROLOGER. 27 " You are a widower, with one child," said the astrolo- ger, 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 unscrupu- lous ; 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 Egyp- tian, 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 28 THE ASTROLOGER. far away by the waves long ere this. Whose, then, could it be ? There were more children born this Christ- mas 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 \vere 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 ! //, 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 im- patiently. " 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. BARRY ORANMORE. 29 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. 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, cover- ed 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 everythiag 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 sus- pended gracefully around his neck, and Cupid was lean- ing 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 3 o BARR Y ORANMORB. 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 iii 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, remind- ing 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 orig- inal 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 BARRY ORANMORE. 3I 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 be- witched 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 tend- ing 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 Ijght, 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 excite- ment 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 32 BARRY ORANMORE. 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 objec- tion 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 of- fended matron. " S'pose you think it's very funny laugh- ing 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. BARRY ORANMORE. 33 "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 exam- ine 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 / 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." 34 BARRY ORANMORE. " 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 dis- turbing her, and I will break the news to her myself. Here is my purse for the present. What is your ad- dress ?" 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 al- most 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 // with you with- out disturbing her. Go." The buxom widow arose and quitted the room. Oran- more 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." BARRY ORANMORE. 35 " 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 direc- tion 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 com- fort 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 drain- ing 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 ring- 36 BARR Y ORANMORE. ing of bells and the cry of " Fire ! fire !" fell upon her ear. It roused her ; and, in the excitement of the mo- ment forgetting her little charge, she sprang up as well as she could, and, by a strange fascination, was soon in- voluntarily 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 hint. 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. MOUNT SUNSET HALL. 37 CHAPTER V. MOUNT SUNSET HALL. "A jolly place, 'twas said, in days of old." WORDSWORTH. 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. 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, rnerry gray eyes, lit up the pleas- antest 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 por- tion of this son of darkness which could be discovered for his voluminous wrappings. The path was wet, slippery, and dangerous in the ex- treme. 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 '11 spill me and you, and the sleigh, and then the Lor only knows what'll ever becomg of us." 38 MOUNT SUNSET HALL. " 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 whoa- ing, 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 seeming- ly 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 hor- ror. "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. MOUNT SUNSET HALL. 39 " Good Lor ! so 'tis ! What you gwine to do wid it, Missus Scour, mum ?" " Do with it ?" said Mrs. Gower, looking at him in surpri'se. " 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' 'fleet how tarin' mad ole marse '11 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 '11 trow it out de winder fust thing. Shouldn't be s'prised, nudder, ef he'd wollop me for bringing it. Jes' 'fleet upon it, Missus Scour, nobody can't put no 'pendence onto him, deforsooken 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 'sper- riment, 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 herwarm, motherly bosom. "Sartin, missus, in course you knows best, but ef you'd only 'fleet. 'Pears to me, ole marse '11 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 40 MOUNT SUNSET HALL. Mrs. Govver, her honest, ruddy face all aglow with gen- erous 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 'fore- hand. 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. Warm- ly 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 par- lor, where a huge wood-fire roared up the wide chim- ney. 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 be- ing 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 MOUNT SUNSET HALL. 41 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, arid 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 emi- 42 MOUNT SUNSET HALL. 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, com- manding on one side a view of the entire village and the bay, and on the other the dark pine forest and far-spread- ing hills beyond. A carriage-path wound up toward the front, through an avenue of magnificent horse chest- nuts, 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 infe- rior 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 excssses 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. Deem- ing it best to make the greatest sacrifice first, he got MOUNT SUNSET HALL. 43 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 hav- ing 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 indig- nantly deny the assertion. He asleep, indeed ! Prepos- terous ! he had heard every word ! And, in proof of it, he vociferated every text he could remember, and in- sisted 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. Govver 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 44 MOUNT SUNSET HALL. the bell. The summons was answered by a tidy little darkey, who rushed in all of a flutter. "Laws! Missus Scour, IV '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, re- bukingly. "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 natu- ral 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 re- sumed 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 deter- MOUNT SUNSET HALL. 45 ruination, 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 unpleas- ant 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, 46 MOUNT SUNSET HALL. 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 trans- gressor is hard,' as Solomon says ; and I'll make it con- foundedly 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, speech- less with mingled rage and astonishment at the auda- cious reply. " Yes, sir," reiterated Mrs. Gower, resolutely. " I con- sider 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 pas- sion. " 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 MOUNT SUNSET HALL. 47 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 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 se- rene and unruffled by his terrible denunciations, look- ing as placid as a mountain lake sleeping in the sun- light. " Well, ma'am, well ; what do you think of your con- duct 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 ?" 48 MOUNT SUNSET HALL. " 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. Govver, slightly appalled by his terrible look, but never flinching in her determina- tion. " You you you abominable female, you !" stam- mered 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. LIZZIES LOVER. 49 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. HE inn of St. Mark's was an old, brown, wooden house, with huge, unpainted shutters, and great oak doors, that in summer lay al- ways 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, un- fortunately, more closely resembled a frightened goose. Within the " Eagle," as it was generally called, every- thing 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 sign-board, 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." An- other door, at the farther end, opened into the " big par- lor," 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 cleanli- ness. The wooden chairs were polished till they shone v and never blazed a fire on a cleaner swept hearth than 3 S o LIZZIES LOVER. 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 / 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, LIZZIE'S LOVER. 51 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 gem man a rale big-bug out'n de bar-room ; a 'specta- ble, 'sponsible, 'greeable gem man, 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 hairs 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 go- ing 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 en- countered 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 gen- tleman, " but I thought this room was unoccupied. Can 52 LIZZIE'S LOVER. 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 mo- ment'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 ?" LIZZIE'S LOVER. 53 " 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 hand- some as they were too 'specially him." "And Miss Lizzie? 1 ' " 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 planner and make picters andsich." " And the papa of these interesting damsels, what is he like ?" inquired the young man. " He ? sakes alive ! Why, he's the ugliest-tempered, Grossest, 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 ?" 54 LIZZIE'S LOVER. " There ain't many more, 'cepting Doctor Nick Wise- man, 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 ex- claimed, as her eyes fell on the letters " B. O.," inscribed on the steel clasp. " B. O. I wonder what them stands for ! 'BO' 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' upstairs 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 LIZZIE'S LOVER. 55 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 in- terior 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 pro- prietor 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 / 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 ?" 56 LIZZIE'S LOVER. "Yes, yes to be sure you have ; that's me. Yes, sir. Who're you, eh ? vvho're you ?" said the squire, staring at him with his round, bullet eyes. "If Squire Erliston will glance over this, it will an- swer 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, lean- ing 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, Oran- more? 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. 'In- nocence 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." LIZZIES LOVER. 57 " 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 '11 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 besure 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 recollec- tion 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 acquaint- ance of Miss Erliston," said Oranmore, carelessly ; "her beauty and accomplishments have made her name famil- iar to me long ago." "Yes, yes, Liz is good-looking deucedly good-look- ing ; very like what I was at her age. Ah, you're laugh- ing, you rascal! Well, I dare say I'm no beauty now j 3* 5 8 LIZZIE'S LOVER. but never mind that at present. 'Handsome is as hand- some 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 coinci- dence : "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. Oran- more, son of my old friend. Fact ! Hurry up break- fast 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 LIZZIES LOVER. 59 worthy Mrs. Govver, 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 Oran- more, 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 in- cessantly 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 60 LIZZIES LOVER. short. The summons was answered by the little darkey, Totty. " Well, Totty, what's the natter ?" 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, dodg- ing 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 ! abomina- tions ! Mrs. Gower, ma'am, if you don't give it a sleep- ing 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 ?" " 111 ! Oh, no ; pray go on," said Oranmore, recov- ering himself by an effort. "Well ; last Christmas eve, Mrs. Gower was return- LIZZIES LOVER. 61 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." 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 an- other. 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 Erlis- ton 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? Some- thing 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 danger- ous 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. 62 THE CYPRESS WREATH. 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. QUIRE ERLISTON, can I have a few mo- ments' 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, 1 as Solomon says. Clear out now, ma'am, while 1 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 THE CYPRESS WREATH. 63 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 em- phasis 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 64 THE CYPRESS WREATH. 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 melan- choly 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. Gowerand 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. THE CYPRESS WREATH. 65 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 bride- groom, with something very like a feeling of awe, as they saw how pale and cold he was looking how dif- ferent 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 66 THE CYPRESS WREATH. 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 arid feel unlike a bridegroom, with but one image filling his heart, but one name on his lips " Evdeen ! 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 draw- ing forth a wreath of mingled cypress and dismal yew, THE CYPRESS WREATH. 67 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, ex- claiming : " 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 pre- dict 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 68 THE CYPRESS WREATH. 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 for- got 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 faraway 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 re- turned to Sunset Hall. And Lizzie was at last begin- ning 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 asieep. 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 THE CYPRESS WREATH. 69 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 niatter !" 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. 70 GIPSY. 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." 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. Ten years have passed away at St. Mark's since the close of our last chapter ; ten years of dull, tedious mo- notony. The terrible sight that had met Lizzie Oran- more'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 Oran- more. 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 silent- ly to whom they belonged, good Mrs. Gower laid them aside, little dreaming of what they were one day to dis- cover. GIPSY. 71 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 be- ing 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 fifn albeit the darker flame that now and then leaped from their shining depths be- 72 GIPSY. spoke a wild, fierce spirit, untamed and daring, slumber- ing 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. Grower'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 crea- ture 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 pas- sion, 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 con- sent 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 an- other hour the war of words would be raging "fast and furious "once more. Good Mrs. Gowcr zealously strove to impress on the wayward elf a becoming respect for the head of the GIPSY. 73 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. Sbe 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, 4 74 GIPSY. the same sable locks and bold black eyes, the same scornful, curving upper lip, and the same hot, rash, im- petuous 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 impa- tiently. "I really can't say," replied Lizzie, opening her eyes languidly. " I saw her racing over the hills this morn- ing, with those dreadful dogs of hers. I expect she will be back soon." " And we must wait for her ladyship J" 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 ! -.veil done, Gipsy ! She has actually sprung over black Jupe's head in a flying leap." GIPSY. 75 While he spoke Gipsy came running up the lawn to- ward 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 ge- nius 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 morn- ing ? Answer me that!" " Nowhere, sir." " Don't tell stories, you little sinner. Where is no- where ?" " 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." 76 GIPSY. " 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 noth- ing 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, draw- ing herself up. "But, Guardy, since I must tell you, I went over to see ahem ! Archie I" GIPSY 77 "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 pos- sibly want with him ?" said the squire, sternly. " Oh, fifty things ! He's my beau, you know." " Your beau ! your beau ! your BEAU ! My con- science !" " 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 mar- ried ?' 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." 78 GIPSY. " 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 aston- ished ; this is a free country. And why can't Miss Hagar have a little girl, if she wants to, as well as any- body 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?" in- quired 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 moon- light, 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. GIPSY. 79 " 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 dar- ling, 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 pur- pose. It takes me to defend injured innocence," said Gipsy, getting up, and squaring-off in an attitude of de- fiance, as she exclaimed : "Come on, old Wiseman, I'm ready for you !" 8o GIPSY. " Well, I can't allow you to associate with beggars. You must never go to Deep Dale again. I can't coun- tenance 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 re- sumed 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. GIPSY. Si " 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 get- ting 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. 82 A STORM. 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. 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 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 gvvine to live 'thout eatin'? You allers does call jes' the contrariest time, allers " " Hold your tongue !" exclaimed her imperious little A STORM. 83 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. Govver entered. "Well, 'Rora, my dear, where are you going this morning, that you are dressing in your best ?" said Mrs. Govver, 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 Spi- der'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 do- ing. Consider all he has done for you, and how ungrate- ful 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 dis- obeyed him. Ride over the hills, go out sailing or shoot- ing, but do not go there." Gipsy, who had been yawning fearfully during this address, now jerked herself away from Totty, and re- plied, impatiently : " Well, let him get frightfully angry ; I'll get ' fright- 84 A STORM. 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 her- self 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. Arciiie 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 dashing 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 lit- tle 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 talk- ing sensibly, why I rather think I am doing that just now. There, now now do, please, bottle up that lecture A STORM. 85 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 diser- blige 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 tight- ly-clenched teeth. " Jes' so, Miss Ro rer ; he tell me so not ten minutes ago." " Now, Jupiter, look here ; you go right off and sad- dle 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 over- come your scruples ?" whack ! whack ! whack ! With something between a yell and a howl, poor 86 A STORM. 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 '11 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 Ara- bian, 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 any- body 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 school-boy. 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 threat- ening, 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 A STORM. 87 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 light- nin' ? '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' teariu' round', an' kickin' de dogs an' niggers, an' smashin' de res' ob de furnitur'. Oh, Lor !" And evi- dently 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 88 A STORM. he woke up, and seeing the state of affairs, his first in- quiry was for Gipsy. " Where's that little abomination, now ?" he abruptly demanded, in a tone that denoted his temper was not im- proved 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 with- out 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, i( 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 A STORM. 89 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, thunder-struck 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 dis- obedient, 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!" 90 A STORM. Louis accordingly repaired to the kitchen and deliv- ered 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 capri- cious Gipsy. Half an hour, three-quarters passed, and then Jupiter, soaking with rain, and reeking with sweat, came gallop- ing 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 ex- pectation of the " wrath which was to come," he pre- sented 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 hyste- rics, 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. MISS HAGAR. 9I 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 thce, 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 tha* bosom's glow." L. DAVISON. [EANTIME, while the squire was throwing the household of Sunset Hall into terror and con- sternation, the object of his wrath was en- joying 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 9 2 MISS HAGAR. 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 be- hind, 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 nei- ther 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. MISS HAGAR. 93 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 dur- ing 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 94 MISS HAGAR. live before you came here, Celeste?" continued Gipsy, returning to th_> 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!" inignantly 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 liitle 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. MISS HAG AX. 95 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 96 MISS HAGAR. 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 flut- ter 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 surren- der.' 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 glo;v 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 MISS HAGAR. 97 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 ^yes on the deriding face of the speaker, while her face dark- ened, 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 num- ber." " 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, 5 98 MfSS HAGAR. " 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 great- est ! 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. " Won- der 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. MISS HAGAR. 99 " 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. ioo MISS HAGAR. " 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 ^/'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 be- lieve 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, be- took 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. GIPSY OUTWITS THE SQUIKE. 101 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. 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. " 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. 102 GIPSY OUTWITS THE SQUIRE. " 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 no- body, or go ridin' out all hours ob de night a.syou 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 dread- fully 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 mat- ters 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." GIPSY OUTWITS THE SQUIRE. 103 "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 pun- ish 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, whimper- ing 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 con- trary, I know I've did right; and I'm going to do it over again, the first chance there !" 104 GIPSY OUTWITS THE SQU1XE. " 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 bet- ter 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 sen- timental." " 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 arid 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, befud- dled old gentleman ! how dare you have the impudence, GIPSY OUTWITS THE SQUIRE. 105 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 for- ever 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 breath- less. " Loo loo loek 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 io6 GIPSY OUTWITS THE SQUIRE. 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 seiz- ing 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 soli- tary 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 '11 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 GIPSY OUTWITS THE SQUIRE. 107 a hoo," sobbed, and wept, and scolded Gipsy, as the squire, inwardly chuckling, led her to her place of cap- tivity. They reached it at length ; a large empty room with- out 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 with- out. 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. io8 GIPSY OUTWITS THE SQUIRE. 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 i 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 pa- tience 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 pre- vented him from " murdering " Gipsy as he had threat- ened. Two or three days elapsed before " Richard " be- came "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 throw- ing the pillow, the gruel and pill-boxes at her head every time she appeared in his sight. THE TIGRESS AND THE DOVE. 109 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." 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 glitter- ing in the sunlight but nursing her own dark, fathom- less thoughts. From the first moment of the coming of Celeste she had hated her, with a deep, intense hatred, that was des- tined 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. no THE TIGRESS AND THE DOVE. 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 Minnetteand Gipsy went (sometimes) was two miles dis- tant, 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, im- patiently. "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 THE TIGRESS AND THE DOVE, in 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 an- gelic 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 ii2 THE TIGRESS AND THE DOVE. 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 TIGRESS AND THE DGVE. 113 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, rush- ing 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, be- wildering, 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 lo me for your portrait," said Louis, impulsively, as they walked along. "I don't know," said Celeste, shrinking closer to j 14 THE TIGRESS AND THE DOVE. 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 ex- actly for a model," said Louis. " That's a compliment, sis," said Arehie, 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 re- sounded 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 shoul- der, 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 spark- ling 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. THE TIGRESS AND THE DOVE. 115 " 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, burst- ing 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, stoop- ing 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? / 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 .y 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 mo- tionless, enchanted, drinking in to intoxication the be- wildering 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, inno- cent 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." LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. 275 " All right ; that'll save me some trouble ; and I hear somebody over there singing out for Mrs. Wiseman. So au rcvoir, 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 cloud- less 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 gilt, 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. Withdraw- ing 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, 276 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. 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 in- terrupted 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 per- ceived 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 "TffE OLD, OLD STORY." 277 in the promenade ; by his side she sat at table. Stand- ing 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, resplen- dent face of MiniKtte was forgotten for a white-robed vision with a haunting pair of blue eyes. And Min- nette 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 be- fore 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 !" REMANS. 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 propor- tions 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- 278 "THE OLD, OLD STORY." tie 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 / 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." "THE OLD, OLD STORY.'' 279 " 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 disre- spect. 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 Ger- man 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. 2 8o " THE OLD, OLD STORY." 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 sol- emn, 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 respect- fully 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 Hying 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 sum- mer afternoon vanished as the morning had done un- noticed. " 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 " THE OLD, OLD STORY." 281 perhaps there is some magnet concealed that keeps peo- ple 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 re- member that parting, Celeste ?" " Yes," she said, softly, while her fair face grew crim- son 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 ab- sense," 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- 282 "THE OLD, OLD STORY." 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 un- tenanted, 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 hnnd. 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 "THE OLD, OLD STORY." 283 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. ' 111 !' " 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 power- ful 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, under 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 avail of darkness around her white face. " Minnette dear Minnette I" like a magic spell his low-toned words fell on her maddened spirit "you are 284 "THE OLD, OLD STORY." 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. Ex- tremes 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, for- give 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 be- fore 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 ; "THE OLD, OLD STORY." 285 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 Val- ley Cottage, reading and talking, or walking with Ce- leste. 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 man- tle 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 Ce- leste were wandering slowly along the rocky path lead- ing to the cottage. Even in the moonlight could be seen the bright flush that overspread her fair face, as she lis- tened, 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, im- petuously. " 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?" 286 " THE OLD, OLD STOR Y." "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, blush- ing, " 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 for- ward 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, Ce- leste, may I not ask my grandfather and if he con- sents, will you not be mine ?" " I don't know I'll think about it," said Celeste, tim- idly. " 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 be- fore her. THE RIVALS. 287 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. OR a moment the rivals stood silently con- fronting each other Celeste pale and trem- bling 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. Girt, 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 quiv- ering 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 in- jured you, I am very sorry. Indeed, indeed, it was unin- 288 THE RIVALS. tentional. 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 de- pendent on the bounty of others. Hate you! yes, from the first moment I beheld you, I hated you with an in- tensity 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 do- ing 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 jnd 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 THE RIVALS. 289 not what you do. But, oh ! Minnette, you wrong me. I n*ver 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 wil- lingly 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 woman love each other then we will be friends. Perjure your- self not before me. Though an angel from heaven were to d scend 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 in- nocents, 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, art- ful impostor ! Did I not hear you both to-night? and was not the demon within me prompting me to spring forward and Mab 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 stag- gered 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 13 290 THE RIVALS. 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 Min- nette, contemptuously. " Do you not suppose I can see through this vail with which you would blind my eyes ? You will tell him tormorrow, 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 un- dauntedly 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- THE RIVALS. 291 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." " 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 esti- mation, and make him love you far more than ever be- fore. 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, eold-blooded heart." " I will not stay to listen to your words, Minnette ; they are too dreadful. Some day, perhaps, you will dis- cover 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 fal- tered 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 292 . THE RIVALS. terror, Celeste sprang away, darted through the garden gate, flew up the jiarrow 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 speak- ing. 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 pale face those wild, excited eyes the disheveled golden hair the blood-stained, and torn and disordered dress. " Nothing ! oh, nothing, nothing !" said Celeste, pass- ing 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 scat- THE RIVALS. 293 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 vio- lent and unusual excitement. Her only idea was to get away to be alone that she might collect her wander- ing 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. Unac- customed 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 disclos- ure 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 294 THE RIVALS. 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! 1 cannot I cannot!" she exclaimed, pas- sionately. "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, ear- nest 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 re- signed. " 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 re- lieved by tears. She thought not of the wear)- 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 THE RIVALS. 295 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 re- signed him forever, bidding him be happy with Min- nette, 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 renuncia- tion 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 like- ness 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 hero- ism 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. 296 GIPSY HUNTS NEW GAME. 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 di- rected 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. 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. GIPSY HUNTS NEW GAME. 297 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 '11 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 dol- lars before they could take him. He met one of the con- stables 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 ?" in- quired Louis. " So they did ; but bless your soul ! it's like look- ing for a needle in a hay-stack couldn't find him any- where." " Oh ! it was capital fun !" said Gipsy, laughing, " it 13* 298 GIPSY" HUNTS NEW GAME. 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 pas- sion, 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," mut- tered 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." GIPSY HUNTS NEW GAME. 299 " 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 posi- tively forbid you or any one in this place riding oat while Big Tom's roaming about." " That's right, Guardy show your authority. Noth- ing like keeping it up, you know. And now, as I'm off to give Mignonne an airing, I'll think of your com- mands 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 en- counter 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 na- ture ; for she spent almost her whole life on horse-back. She heeded not the flight of time, as she thundered 300 GIPSY HUNTS NEW GAME. along, riding in the most hazardous places sometimes narrowly escaping being dashed to pieces over preci- pices sometimes leaping yawning chasms that would make many a stout hunter's head giddy. The excite- ment 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 re- gretting 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 star- light 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 hunt- ing-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 GIPSY HUNTS NEW GAME. 301 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 fright- fully 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 furi- ous 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 302 GIPSY HUNTS NEW GAME. Gipsy sprang from his grasp just as he fell heavily to the ground. Gipsy staggered against a tree, with a deadly inclina- tion 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-de- fense, 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 re- turned, 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, impa- tiently. " 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 GIPSY HUNTS NEW GAME. 303 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.