Yes! there are real mourners--I have seen
A fair, sad girl, mild-suffering; and serene.
--Crabbe.
The gray of the morning was stealing out from behind the tree-tops,
filling the woodland with a dim uncertain light. The tall spectral forms
and great crouching figures of the darkness, now proved to be the limbs
and broken trunks of gigantic trees. With the misty light of the morning
all the ghouls and goblins of the night left the lonely forest and
retreated to their secret abodes until dusk would come again.
A cold cheerless change was coming over the earth and two equestrians
trotting silently through the wood, at this early hour, shivered and
shook in the raw air of the morning. They spoke very little. The elder
one was smoking, the other was looking moodily on before him. Presently
the former stretched himself far on one side of his horse and thrust his
head enquiringly forward. He took his pipe from his mouth and looked
again.
"Philip, my son, what do you see there?"
"Where?" the other asked indifferently.
"Inside those twisted trees."
Philip glanced in the direction indicated, and in an instant was
dismounted. He gave the reins to his companion and walked briskly to the
spot that had excited their attention. When he reached the place he
halted suddenly and looked aghast. An exclamation of horror escaped his
lips. He bent over the object and beheld the figure of a human being,
clad in female attire, sleeping on the crouched body of a great
Newfoundland dog. But the arms and fingers that encircled and clutched
the faithful animal were daubed with blood, and here and there on the
fretful face of the sleeper were dried patches of crimson. The matted
hair fell loosely round the regular features, but the picture on the
whole was at once the strangest and most touching one it was possible to
see. Philip turned silently and beckoned his companion to approach. Then
both of them bent curiously over the form of the girl to ascertain
whether she slept a temporary or an eternal sleep, and when her distinct
breathing convinced them that life was not extinct, they called her and
tried to awaken her. For a long time their efforts were vain. Nothing
seemed capable of dispelling the stupor that had settled over her. She
only tossed her head wearily from one side to the other when they spoke,
and frowned peevishly, as though their words annoyed her. Once she
raised her blood-stained hand and the two men saw with renewed surprise
that she wore a wedding ring on her slender finger. This touched them
anew, and they resolved to move her between them to the village, where a
doctor could be consulted and her wants be carefully attended to.
But when they laid their hands upon her the dog showed his teeth
threateningly, growling angrily in their faces. At the sound of her
defender's voice, the girl lifted her eyelids and glared wildy at the
two figures standing above her. She tightened her greedy hold around the
animal's neck and screamed:
"Don't touch him, don't dare--he--and my revenge--all that's
left--revenge! Ha, ha, ha.--"
Her voice died out and her eyes closed drowsily again. The two men
stared at one another in mute surprise. Then the younger of the two,
making a last effort, bent over her and said coaxingly:
"Let me take you off the damp ground, you'll have your death of cold,"
She started and looked strangely at him.
"Not death," she said in a tone of defiance, "not death until I have
done my work."
"Tell us your name, good woman," the older man put in, not heeding her
last remark.
"Name? I have no name now--outcast--_jolle_-if you like. But I will win
my name back, I will--"
"Of course you will," sad one consolingly, looking at his companion and
tapping his forehead knowingly.
"Come, we will begin right away; let us go now," and he raised himself
up to start.
With a little coaxing and reassurance, they persuaded her to lean on
them and rise up, but the poor little face became distorted and the eyes
closed languidly as if she suffered intensely. She stood bravely up
however, but in a moment she tottered and sank back again. Her
companions saw that their efforts were useless in her present condition,
so it was decided that while the elder man remained to watch her, the
younger one should gallop to the village and secure the assistance
necessary to transport her from this lonely spot.
Unfortunately the path chosen by Bijou on the night of her elopement
with him, led to a succession of roads which wound almost interminably
through woods and fields adjoining another village, situated some miles
distant from the one they had left. This settlement was called "The
Lower Farms." It was to this place that Philip Campbell and his uncle
Douglas were travelling on that morning when they found Fifine in the
wood. Bijou had made a very round-about trip, bringing the girl at least
twenty miles from her own neighborhood, and leaving her in a spot where,
if found, she would be looked upon as a resident of the Lower Farms.
With all possible speed, Philip Campbell rode into the village, going
straight to the doctor of the place, to whom he confided their strange
_rencontre_. Half an hour later, the zealous man of medicine with his
attendant and Phil, were journeying back to the spot where Douglas
Campbell kept kindly watch over the unfortunate female.