"I heard about it; he told me before he went to Australia."
"Then it is the same?" said the woman. "May God bless you both."
Winifred offered her money, and the gypsy eyed it greedily, but shook
her head and said--
"No, kind lady, I do not want money for what I have told you."
"But you have a little boy; take it for him."
"Yes, I will take it for him."
Winifred changed her mind, and gave her half a sovereign. The woman's
gratitude was unbounded and she showered many blessings on Winifred's
head as she went on her way.
Winifred remained standing on the spot looking after her. She wondered
if Jack would really come back with the fortune he said he went out to
make. It mattered little to her whether he was rich or poor, but she
wished him to succeed, and knew how he felt about it.
As she walked slowly home she revolved in her mind all that had taken
place since he left. How lonely she had been at first, her old playmate
gone, and no prospect of seeing him for some years. She knew she loved
him when he had acted under that sudden impulse and taken her in his
arms and kissed her. The memory of that embrace was very dear to her.
Gradually as she became accustomed to his absence she grew to love him
more and more. He was constantly in her thoughts; she wondered where he
was, what he was doing. She listened eagerly to Captain Seagrave's
account of the voyage, and could have hugged the rough old seaman when
he praised Jack up to the skies. The arrival of his first letter was a
great event. She read it again and again; it opened up to her a new
field of thought, and she wrote him glowing epistles of their doings at
The Downs. She knew even trivial things would interest him because she
wrote of them, and they told of the dear old country where they had
spent so many happy hours together. There were no words of love in her
letters; she would not write them, but he would understand, and she
meant to leave him perfectly free. The mere thought of Jack falling in
love with some other girl sent her into a cold shiver, but she quickly
smiled and reassured herself when she thought of that kiss. Then came
more letters, and she gloated over his wonderful adventures and pictured
him fighting hordes of terrible savages, and diving to the bottom of the
sea for pearls. Her father laughed at her, and said that on the whole he
fancied Jack was having a very good time, and was far more likely to be
dancing with native beauties in scanty costumes than battling with
blacks, at which assertion she was highly indignant.