A GIPSY PROPHECY.
The handsome young bridegroom who had forgotten his exacting bride
under the stress of his great sorrow rode on rapidly toward Lewisburg,
some seven or eight miles away.
Sad and heavy thoughts bore him company, for he seemed dazed with the
shock of all that had befallen him in the past week.
Gipsy’s murder, his forced marriage, his aunt’s death--all following so
rapidly upon each other--were enough to unbalance the strongest brain.
The impulse of flight came over him, as it comes to so many in dark
hours--the longing to seek in distant lands, among strangers, surcease
from sorrow.
Alas, he might not flee from his pain. He was bound by Lelia’s fetters;
she would not let her wretched captive go free.
The worst of it, too, was that he felt sure that he had been gulled
into the marriage by a cunning scheme. She had only pretended to take
the poison, but her clever acting had deceived every one, even the
physician, and all had combined to force him into his hated bonds.
As he rode along the lonely mountain road between the overarching
trees, there arose in his mind a hatred toward Lelia and a reluctance
ever to live beneath the same roof with one so unworthy.
“Daily, hourly, at her side--how can I bear it?” he groaned, and just
then Satan shied so violently as to almost throw him to the ground.
Recovering his seat with an alert spring, he reined in the horse,
sharply, and looked about him for the cause of the disturbance.
It was the slender, white figure of a girl that must have crossed the
road in front of them, for with a bound it disappeared in a dark strip
of wood and Satan snorted with relief and regained his equanimity.
“Ah, a ghost, old boy!” exclaimed Laurie, patting his neck and
cantering along with a throbbing heart; for the flying figure, clad in
ghostly white, with streaming dark hair, had such a familiar air that
he was instantly reminded of Gipsy Darke.
Like Lelia he could have cried out:
“I am haunted!”
But for the sad errand on which he was bound he would have dismounted
and followed the fugitive into the wood in the half-hope of finding
that it was Gipsy.
But such a course seemed the height of folly, and with a sigh from
the bottom of his heart, he rode on, turned a curve in the road, and
suddenly found himself in a gipsy camp.
The gipsies had camped on Miss Willoughby’s land again this summer for
the first time since Lelia’s father had driven them away with merciless
hate, and been cursed for his brutality by the gipsy queen.
They had been here several weeks now by Miss Willoughby’s gracious
permission, and were busily plying their lazy occupations of
horse-trading and fortune-telling.
On either side of the meadow road their white tents gleamed in the
moonlight and their horses frolicked in the pasture lot near the huge
wagons that trundled their women folk and children from place to place.
Some of these swarthy, picturesque people were gathered around a
camp-fire at the side of the road, amusing themselves with games of
cards and telling stories.
Satan discovered new cause for alarm in the gipsy camp, and balked,
refusing to budge any farther.
Persistent urging, and even the spur, failed to overcome his
stubbornness.
Suddenly a woman started up from the group about the fire, saying, in
her musical, Romany voice:
“He’s just a little bit frightened at us folks, sir. Allow me to lead
him safely past.”
And to Laurie’s surprise the stubborn Satan yielded kindly to her firm
hand and coaxing voice, and ambled quietly along until he had his back
to the disturbing scene.
“You can go on safely now, sir,” she said, pausing, with the gleam
of the moonlight and firelight both reflected on her strong, dark
face, middle-aged and still handsome, with a stately air that made him
suspect she was the gipsy queen.
“I thank you,” he said courteously, placing a generous gift of silver
pieces in her hand.
“Oh, sir, you are very kind! Let me tell your fortune in return!” cried
the woman, seizing his hand despite his protest and peering with fixed
eyes into the palm.
“A fair fate to you, sir,” she muttered. “You will be married twice,
but your first and second choice will differ from each other like
daylight and darkness; both beautiful, both loving, but between them
they will bring a tragedy into your life. Deep sorrow lies before you,
but the clouds will pass. Remember Magdala’s words, sir, for they are
true as truth. Good-night, and a successful journey to you, kind sir,”
curtsying as she moved away.
Laurie rode on, musing:
“She evidently knows who I am and has made a wild guess at the rest.
But in one thing she is right. Two women as different as daylight and
darkness have brought a tragedy into my life. Will the clouds indeed
pass as Magdala predicted?”
He reached Lewisburg without further adventure, but it was long past
midnight, and seeking the hotel, he retired to rest till morning.
And in the painful absorption of his thoughts he could not sleep at
all, but tossed restlessly till time to arise.
It took him till mid-day to transact the sad business that had brought
him there, making the arrangements for Miss Willoughby’s funeral the
next day, and in the afternoon he rode back to The Crags, reaching
there in the golden glow of the summer sunset.
Dreary and sad looked the old house with its closed windows and
streamers of black at the door. Twice within a week had death borne
away an inmate, and a gloomy shadow hung over everything.
Lelia had been watching for him through the shutters, and she came out
to meet him with a forced smile to hide her bitter resentment.
“Come into my room and talk to me a while, I am so lonely,” she
pleaded, when she had received the cold kiss for which she held up her
lips.
“Indeed, Lelia, you must excuse me, I have to go to my father and tell
him my plans for the funeral to-morrow, and then I must lock myself
into my room for an undisturbed sleep. I am simply fagged out,” he
replied, turning coldly away.