by James Payn
CHAPTER XIII.
THE GIPSY CAMP.
After not a little opposition upon the part of Mr. Long, who would havewillingly borne his share in Marmaduke's expenses, it was settled thatMr. Gerard should be the young man's host, if he could only contrive toretain him in defiance of the power of Sir Massingberd; his home,however, was not to be the Dovecot, which was judged to be too muchexposed, by its proximity to Fairburn, to the machinations of the enemy.The Gerards were to remove to their town residence in Harley Street, assoon as their guest was fit to accompany them. At first, his progresswas tedious, but he grew rapidly convalescent as soon as he was able toexchange his bed for a sofa. Never was sick man more hospitably treated,or so graciously tended. Mr. Gerard possessed that almost femininegentleness of manner which is generally found in persons of his peculiarorganization. His sympathy, at least as easily aroused as hisantagonism, was now deeply enlisted in favour of Marmaduke for his ownsake; he recognized his talents, and the beauty and tenderness of hismind, and won him, by pleasant studious talk, from the melancholy thatoverhung it; and the young man's heart, thrilling response to everytouch of kindness, turned towards him, and expanded like a flower in thesun. As for Lucy, what rudest health would I not have exchanged forMarmaduke's languor, as he lay and listened to her clear sweet voice,now singing some cheerful ballad to enliven him, now reading aloud sometale so musically that itself seemed song! He could read to himself butlittle as yet, and if he did take up a book, his eyes refused to regardit, but followed the lovely girl, wherever she moved, with worship.
"This happiness is too great to last, Peter," he would often say; "itwill all fade one day, I know, and leave me desolate. What man living isworthy to possess yon glorious creature? I feel as though I had no righteven to love her. Yet, great heaven! how I do love her. Howunconscious she is of her perfect sweetness! How she graces the meanestthing which she may set herself to do! Her presence seems to breathevery life into me; I then forget everything but her--even SirMassingberd. To return to him would be death indeed--death death!" Thenhe would sink back, as if prostrated with the thought, and so remaindespairingly despondent until he heard Lucy's voice, or laugh, orfootstep. All this was bitter for me to bear. I was glad when Mr. Longsuggested to me that he thought it was no longer necessary for me toremain with Marmaduke, and that I should return to Fairburn Rectory andmy studies. Still, my heart was heavy upon that morning which was to bethe last I was to spend under the same roof with Lucy Gerard. Within thelast few weeks--nay, it happened in a few hours--I had Loved and I hadLost. If there be any to read this in whose eyes these words havemeaning, they will pity me. I do not match such grief, indeed, for asingle instant against the sorrow a man must feel for the loss of theloved companion of his life, against the lone wretchedness of recentwidowhood; but it is a grievous blow. I wished Marmaduke and Mr. Gerard"good-bye" without quite knowing that I did so.
"Good-bye, Mr. Meredith," said Lucy, and though her voice was even lowerand sweeter than usual, it wounded me like a knife.
"Why don't you call him Peter, Lucy?" exclaimed her father, laughing. "Ithink it would be more civil, now that we are going to lose him."
"Thank you, sir," said I, gratefully; and she did say "God bless you,Peter," very, very kindly.
Ever since that morning she called me so; but I was Peter to all ofthem, you see, as well as to her. Then I called her Lucy, and though forthe first and last time, I shall never forget it.
"I couldna say mair, but just 'Fare ye weel, Lucy Yet that I will mind till the day that I dee."
Then I mounted my horse, my luggage having already preceded me, andslowly took my way towards Fairburn. My life-blood seemed to ebb withevery step. The clang of the gate that shut me out from the last foot ofground belonging to the Dovecot, sent a shudder through me like a knell.I was on the very spot where Marmaduke had met with the accident thathad been so nearly fatal. Supposing it had killed him! Supposing...--Ithanked God that I was able to thank Him from an honest heart that ithad not done so.
Then I felt a little better. Having ascended the hill, I put my horseinto a sharp canter upon the common, and the cool air through which Iswiftly passed refreshed me. The hollow in which the encampment had beenwas now deserted, and only the round bare spot amid the green, which isthe gipsy autograph, announced that it had ever been there. Some milesfurther on, however, a little brown-legged boy, evidently of thatwandering fraternity, suddenly emerged from a fir plantation, and stoodbefore me in the road as if to beg. I was already feeling in my pocketfor a penny, when, showing his white teeth in gratitude, he shook hishead, and coming close to my stirrup, exclaimed, "You are the gentlemanfrom Mr. Gerard's, sir, are you not? Would you please to come and seeGranny Rachel?"
In an instant, I remembered the pocket-flask, which I had entirelyforgotten since the day in which it came into my possession; for all Iknew, it was then lying yet in the drawing-room at the Dovecot.
"Yes, my boy, that will I," returned I; "but I fear I have not broughther what she wants."
He looked up in the bright interrogative manner peculiar to his tribe,so different to the stolid wonder of the agriculturist.
"She wants you, sir, as I understood. This is the sixth day that shehas set me to watch for you by this roadside. Will you please to followme?"
The boy started off at a pace which compelled me to move too fast forfurther questioning; and skirting the plantation for a hundred yards,stopped at the entrance of a roadway leading through the wood. Thecoming winter had not yet turned the broad green track to sand, and itran so straight and far, that the pine trees seemed to stand on eitherside--a solid wall--with nothing but the blue heaven for their limit.This landscape of right lines would have delighted a painter of thePre-Raphaelite school, it looked so stiff and unnatural; but pursuingthe track for a little distance, and then plunging over a ditch andbank into the plantation itself, we suddenly came upon a scene whichwould have suited Morland. A low tent, with half-naked but merrychildren crawling in and out; a she-ass and her foal; a handsome maleEpicurean, lying on his back, smoking a short, well-coloured pipe, thehue of which precisely resembled that of his own skin; a young girl inscarlet mantle, and with earrings of great splendour, gatheringfir-cones to feed the flames which licked around an iron pot suspendedon four sticks, piled musket-fashion; and an old crone, sitting by thesame, and picking the feathers from a bird, which, had the time of yearbeen beyond the end of September, I should have certainly taken for ahen-pheasant. But to suppose this, would have been to suppose aninfraction of the game laws! The walnut-stained children stopped theirplay as I approached, and stood in various attitudes of wonder, likebeauteous bronzes; the man turned over on his side, and opened hisslumbrous eyes a hairbreadth; the girl flashed one quick, comprehensiveglance upon me, and then resumed her occupation. The old woman noddedfamiliarly without rising, and observed quietly, "So you are come atlast, Peter Meredith. I trust you have brought good news of MarmadukeHeath."
"He is better," said I, "much better; and he knows who brought him help,and is very grateful. You have been expected daily at the Dovecot, wheresomething more substantial than mere thanks is waiting for you."
"Rachel Liversedge desires neither silver nor gold," returned the oldwoman; "she has had her reward already, if what you say be true. It wasnot for love of the boy that I acted as I did; he has too much evilblood in him to earn my liking. But I am glad as though he were my ownson that he will live."
"Carew," cried she, triumphantly, "no wonder bura Sir Massingberdlooked kalo as ourselves."
"Oh, the great man looks black, does he?" said I.
The old woman dropped the bird, the girl her fir-cones, and both staredwildly at me, as though my voice had come from the clouds; the mansprung to his feet, and uttered a cry of wonder.
"What! do you speak our tongue?" cried he.
"Nay; you speak mine," returned I, calmly. "Bura is great; and kala,which you call kalo, is black, of course; everybody knows that whoknows Hindus
tanee."
Then the three burst out together in a language, one word out of four ofwhich seemed to be more or less familiar to me; as for understandingwhat they said, of course it was simply impossible; but no matter, I hadestablished my reputation. From that moment, I felt myself to be thehonoured guest of the family. Would I smoke? Would I eat? Would I drink?I was thirsty, and I said that I would gladly take some water--which, ata venture, I called paince.
"Paunce!" cried they, extravagantly delighted. "He talks like a trueCingari; and only look! is he not dark-skinned!"
The few words that my old ayah had taught me in India had thus procuredme a hearty welcome in a Midshire fir-plantation.
"Sit down by me, Peter Meredith, my son," exclaimed the old woman; "anddo you fetch him water, Mina."
I dismounted, and did as I was bid; while the young girl took apitcher, and presently brought it filled from a running Stream near by,and offered it to me, like another Rebecca. But her grandmother--forsuch she was--cried, "Stop! let me put something in it;" and producedfrom her pocket the self-same flask which she herself had given me a fewweeks ago, and which I had thought was left behind at the Dovecot.
"Why, I was blaming myself for not having brought you that thing backto-day," said I; "I never heard of your coming to claim it."
"Nor did I, young gentleman," returned the old woman, proudly. "HarveyGerard is too kind a man to visit when one is not in need. That was whyI left his house that day, directly I had told what had befallenMarmaduke Heath: I did not wish him to think I waited for my reward.
He returned me this with his own hands. He is not one of your proudones. When we had the fever here--Mina, darling, you remember who cameto see you, and saved your life?"
"Ah, yes!" cried the girl, clasping her dark hands, which gleamed withtawdry rings; "and his daughter, too, how I love her!"
There was a little pause; I felt my ears tingle, my cheeks burn. I didnot dare look up from the ground.
"Lucy Gerard is very fair," whispered the old woman; "she will make agood and loving wife;" then she added roguishly, and in that gipsy tonewhich smacks so of the race-course: "Shall I tell your fortune, mypretty gentleman?"
"No, I thank you," said I, hastily; "I have no great confidence in yourinformation as to the future. With respect to the past, on the otherhand, you can doubtless satisfy me, if you will. I have a greatcuriosity to know how you became possessed of yonder flask with theHeath griffin."
"Peter Meredith," returned the old woman, very gravely, "you have askedme to tell you a sad story, and one to relate which will cost me much.It is not our custom, however, to refuse the first request of a newfriend. But before I begin, let me ask you a question in my turn. Has itnever struck you why Sir Massingberd Heath has not long ago taken tohimself a young wife, and begotten an heir for the bonny lands ofFairburn, in despite of his nephew?"
Until that moment, the idea had never crossed my brain; but no soonerwas it thus mooted than I wondered greatly at the shortsightedness ofthose among whom Marmaduke's affairs had been so lately discussed, andin particular at that of Mr. Clint, who, as a lawyer, should surely haveat once foreseen such a contingency. "Well," said I, "I confess that,for my part, I have never thought of it; but there cannot be much dangerof Sir Massingberd's becoming a wooer now; why, what young woman wouldbe won by such as he?"
"What young woman would not be won?" replied Rachel Liversedge,grimly. "Think you that his white head and stony heart would weigh tooheavy in the balance against his title and the reversion of his lands?Remember, all that is around us, and all that we could see from yonderhill to the right hand and to the left--pasture and corn-field, farm andpark--would fall to the offspring of her who would venture, for a fewyears, to be Lady Heath. Peter, there is one maiden in Midshire, knownto you and me, who would not consent to do this thing, though the offerwere thrice as splendid; but I doubt if there be more than one."
"If that be so," said I, "why does not Sir Massingberd marry?"
"The answer to that is the story I am about to tell you," returnedRachel.