Sharing Her Crime: A Novel

by May Agnes Fleming

  CHAPTER XIII.

  GIPSY ASTONISHES THE NATIVES.

  "What mighty mischief glads her now?"--FIRE WORSHIPERS.

  Among the villagers of St. Mark's, the mad-headed, wild-eyed, fearlessGipsy Gower was a universal favorite. Not one among them but hadreceived from her warm heart and generous hand some service. The squirefurnished his "imp" plentifully with pocket-money, which was invariablybestowed with careless generosity upon the poor of the parish; but givenin a way that precluded all thanks. Sometimes the door would be thrustopen with such violence as to wake the inmates, thinking a troop ofhorse was about to favor them with a visit, and her purse flung into themiddle of the floor; and away she would ride like a flash. But on theseoccasions they were never at a loss to know the donor. If, on her nextvisit, they began to thank her for her gift, Gipsy indignantly deniedall knowledge of it, and positively refused to listen to them.

  Dr. Wiseman, who was a pretty extensive land-owner, had several tenantsin the remotest part of the village, whom he forced to pay an exorbitantrent, giving them to understand that unless they paid it on the very dayit came due, out they must go! One evening, about dusk, Gipsy, who hadbeen riding out, was overtaken by a storm of wind and rain, and soughtshelter in one of the cottages.

  On entering she found the whole family in deep distress. The head of thefamily sat gazing moodily at the fire: his wife, surrounded by herchildren, was weeping; and they, following her example, had set up aclamorous cry.

  "Why, what's up now? What's the matter, Mrs. Brown?" inquired Gipsy, insurprise.

  "Oh, Miss Gipsy! is it you? Sit down. Alas, it's the last time we canever ask you!" said the woman, with a fresh burst of tears.

  "Why, are you going to turn me out the next time I come?" said Gipsy,taking the proffered seat.

  "Heaven forbid we'd ever turn you out, Miss Gipsy, after all you've donefor us!" said the woman; "but after to-night we'll no longer have a roofto shelter us."

  "You won't, eh? Do you intend to set fire to this old shanty, and burnit down?" inquired Gipsy.

  "No, no; but Dr. Wiseman was here for his rent (this is pay-day, youknow), and we haven't a cent in the house to give him. Mr. Brown's beensick mostly all summer, and all we could make it took to feed thechildren. And now Dr. Wiseman says he'll turn us out, to starve or beg,to-morrow," replied the woman through her tears.

  "The old sinner!" exclaimed Gipsy, through her hard-closed teeth. "Didyou ask him to give you time to pay?"

  "Yes, I went on my knees, and begged him to spare us for a few months,and we would pay him every cent; but he wouldn't. He said he would giveus until to-morrow morning, and if we didn't have it then, out we mustgo."

  For a moment Gipsy was silent, compressing her lips to keep down herfiery wrath, while the woman wept more passionately than ever.

  "Have his other tenants paid him?" inquired Gipsy, at length.

  "Yes, all but us."

  "When did he start for home?"

  "Not five minutes ago?"

  "Which way did he take?" said Gipsy, springing to her feet, andbeginning to examine her pistols.

  "He went over the hills," said the man at the fire, speaking now for thefirst time; "I heard them say he was afraid to be robbed if he wentround by the road, as he had all the money he got from the tenants withhim."

  "All right, then, Mrs. Brown, my dear woman. Keep up heart; and if somegood fairy gets you out of this scrape, don't say a word about it. Goodnight."

  "You had better not venture alone in the storm," said Mrs. Brown,anxiously; "one of the boys will go with you."

  "Thank you, there's no necessity. I feel safer on Mignonne's back thanwith all the boys that ever afflicted the world for its sins for abody-guard. So mind my words, 'hold on to the last,' as the shoemakersaid, and don't despair."

  The last words were lost in the storm of wind and rain, as she openedthe door. Springing on the back of Mignonne, she turned his head in thedirection of the hills, and sped over the ground as rapidly as herfleet-footed Arabian could carry her.

  Through the night, and wind, and rain, over the dangerous hilly pathjogged Dr. Wiseman. He scarcely felt the storm, for a talisman in theshape of a well-filled pocket-book lay pressed to his avaricious heart.His mare, a raw-boned old brute, as ugly as her master, walked alongslowly, manifesting a sublime contempt for storm and wind that wouldhave done the heart of a philosopher good. What her thoughts were aboutit, would be hard to say; but her master's ran on money, robbers,highwaymen, and other such "knights of the road."

  "There are many desperate characters in the village who know I have alarge sum of money about me, and who would no more mind waylaying,robbing, and perhaps murdering me, than I would of turning the Brown'sout to-morrow. Luckily, however, they'll think I've taken the villageroad," said the doctor to himself, in a sort of soliloquy, "and so I'llescape them. But this road is a dismal one, and seems just the place fora rendezvous of robbers. Now, if a highwayman were to step up frombehind one of these rocks, and cry----"

  "Your money or your life!" cried a deep, sepulchral voice at his ear,with such startling suddenness that, with an exclamation of horror andfear, the doctor nearly fell from his seat.

  Recovering himself, he strove to see the robber, but in the deepdarkness and beating rain it was impossible. But though he couldn't see,he could hear, and the sharp click of a pistol distinctly met his ear.

  "Your money or your life!" repeated the low, hoarse voice, in animperious tone.

  For reply, the doctor, rendered desperate by the fear of losing hismoney, drew a pistol and fired. As it flashed, he saw for a moment ahorse standing before him, but the rider seemed to have lain flat down,for no man was there. Ere he could draw his second pistol, his horse wasgrasped by the bridle-rein, and the cold muzzle of a pistol was pressedto his temple.

  "Your money or your life!" cried a fierce, excited voice that terroralone prevented him from recognizing. "Deliver up your money, old man,or this instant you shall die."

  "Oh, spare my life!" cried the wretched doctor, in an agony of terror,for the cold ring of steel still pressed his temple like the deadly fangof a serpent. "Spare my life, for God's sake, and you shall have all!I'm a poor man, but you shall have it."

  "Quick, then," was the imperious rejoinder, as the doctor fumbled in hispockets, and at last, with a deep groan of despair, surrendered theplump pocket-book to the daring outlaw.

  "That is all I have; now let me go," cried the miserable doctor.

  "Yes; but first you must solemnly swear never to speak to man, woman, orchild of what has occurred to-night. Swear by your own miserable soul!"

  "I swear!" groaned the unhappy doctor.

  "And lest you should be tempted to commit perjury, and break your oath,let me tell you that the very first attempt to do so will be followed byinstant _death_. Mind! I will watch you day and night, dog your stepslike a blood-hound, and if you dare to breathe it to living mortal, thatmoment will be your last."

  "I'll never mention it! I'll never speak of it. Oh, let me go," imploredthe agonized Galen.

  "Very well, then. I have the honor to wish you good-night. If you don'tride straight home, I'll send a bullet through your head."

  And with this cheering assurance the robber put spurs to the horse, androde off in the direction opposite to that leading to Deep Dale.

  Little need was there to exhort the terror-stricken doctor to ridestraight home. Never before had the spavined old mare fled over theground with the velocity she did that night, and Doctor Wiseman did notbreathe freely until he was double-locked in his own room.

  The Browns paid their rent the next day, and would no longer remaintenants of the doctor. If he suspected any one, the robber's threatcaused him prudently to remain silent; but his wretched look was anunfailing subject of mirth for Gipsy Gower for a month after, and thecunning twinkle of her eye said as plainly as words:

  "I know, but I won't tell."

  One day, Gipsy fell into deeper disgrace with the squire t
han had everoccurred before. In fact, it was quite an outrageous thing, and the onlyapology I can offer for her is, that she meant no harm.

  The Bishop of B., Senator Long, and a number of distinguished gentlemenand ladies from the city had come to St. Mark's to spend a few days.Squire Erliston, as a matter of course, immediately called to see hisfriends, and a few days after gave a large dinner-party, to which theywere all invited.

  The important day for the dinner-party arrived. Lizzie was up in herroom, dressing. Mrs. Gower was superintending affairs in thedining-room. The squire, in full dress, sat alone, awaiting his friends.As he sat, sleep overpowered him, and unconsciously he sank into aprofound slumber.

  While he was snoring in peace, little dreaming of the fate awaitinghim, that little imp of mischief, Gipsy, entered. One glance sufficed,and across her fertile brain there shot a demoniacal project ofmischief, while her whole form became instinct, and her wicked eyesscintillated with fun.

  Quitting the room, she returned presently with a box of lampblack in onehand, and the mustard-pot in the other.

  "Now, Guardy, you keep still a little while till I turn you into anIndian chief, and here goes for your war-paint."

  So saying, the little wretch drew a streak of mustard across his nose,following it by a similar one of lampblack. And so she continued untilhis whole face was covered with alternate stripes of yellow and black,scarcely able to repress a shout of laughter as she worked, at theunspeakably ludicrous appearance he presented.

  Having exhausted her supply of paint, Gipsy stepped to the door tosurvey her work, and unable longer to restrain a roar of laughter, fledto her room, quivering with the anticipation of the fun to come.

  Scarcely had she quitted the room when the door was flung open, and, inpompous tones, the servant announced:

  "De Right Reveren' Bishop of B., de Hon'ble Senator Long and Mrs. Long."

  And the whole party, half a dozen in number, entered the apartment.

  The noise awoke the squire; and a most musical snore was mercilesslyinterrupted, and ended in a hysterical snort. Starting to his feet withan expression of countenance that utterly repudiated the idea of hishaving been asleep, he advanced with extended hand toward the bishop.That high functionary drew back for a moment aghast, and glanced at hiscompanions in horror. Human nature could stand it no longer, and auniversal shout of laughter resounded through the room.

  "Eh? What? Lord bless me, what's the matter?" said the squire, turninghis face from one to another, inwardly wondering if they had all gonemad. "What are you laughing at?"

  A fresh roar of laughter from the whole party answered this, as they allpressed their hands to their sides, utterly unable to stop. Seeing this,the squire at last began grinning with sympathy, thereby adding so muchto the ludicrousness of his appearance, that some threw themselves onthe floor, some on chairs and sofas, in perfect convulsions.

  "What the deuce is it?" repeated the squire, at last losing patience."Will you oblige me by telling me what the matter is?"

  "My dear sir," began the bishop, in tremulous tones.

  The squire turned his painted face eagerly toward the speaker. In vainhe attempted to proceed, it was not in human nature to withstand thatface, and the bishop fell back in a paroxysm that threatened never toend.

  It was a scene for an artist. The row of convulsed faces around, pausingfor a moment breathlessly, but breaking forth louder than ever theminute their eyes again fell upon him. And there sat the squire with hisblack and yellow face, turning in dismay from one to another, his roundbullet-eyes ready to pop from their sockets.

  At this moment the door opened, and Lizzie, Louis, and Mrs. Gower,followed by all the servants in the house, attracted by the noise, burstinto the room. The moment their eyes fell on the squire, who had startedto his feet to address them, their looks of surprise vanished and, as ifby one accord, shout after shout of laughter broke from all. In vain didthe squire stamp, and fume, and demand to know what was the matter; hisonly answer was a fresh explosion of mirth.

  At last, in despair, Mrs. Gower managed to point to a mirror opposite.The squire rushed frantically to the spot, and then paused, transfixed,aghast with horror. Turning slowly round, he confronted his guests withsuch a look of blank, utter dismay, that all the laughter previous wasnothing to the universal roar which followed that despairing glance.Then bursting out with: "It's that fiend!--that demon incarnate!--thatlittle Jezebel has done this," he rushed from the room in search of her.

  Gipsy, attracted by the laughter, had ventured cautiously to descend thestairs. The squire perceived her, as like a flash she turned to fly.With one galvanic bound he sprang up the stairs, seized her by theshoulder, shouting:

  "By Heaven! I'll pay you for this when they go!"

  Then opening an adjoining door, he thrust her in, turned the key, put itin his pocket, and rushed out of the house into the yard, where, by thefriendly aid of soap and hot water, and some hard scrubbing, he managedto make himself once more look like a Christian.

  Then, returning to his guests--who by this time had laughed themselvesinto such a state that they could laugh no longer--he dispersed theservants with sundry kicks and cuffs, and proceeded to explain, as wellas he was able, how it came about. Politeness forced the party to makeevery effort to maintain their gravity, but more than once, while seatedin solemn conclave round the dinner-table, the recollection of the oldman's ludicrous appearance would prove too much for flesh andblood--and, leaning back, they would laugh until the tears stood intheir eyes. Their example proving contagious, the whole party would joinin, to the great mortification of the squire--who inwardly vowed thatGipsy should pay dearly for every additional laugh.

  But for the squire to reckon without Gipsy was rather a hazardousexperiment. Seldom did that young lady find herself in a position fromwhich her genius would not extricate her--as the squire found to hiscost in the present instance.

  Gipsy's first sensation at finding herself for the first time really aprisoner was one of intense mortification, followed by indignation; andher thoughts ran somewhat after the following fashion:

  "The mean old thing!--to lock me up here just because I applied a littlemustard outside instead of inside! Never mind; if I don't fix him forit, it'll be a wonder. So you'll pay me for this, will you, Guardy? Ah!but you ain't sure of me yet, you see. If I don't outwit you yet, myname's not Gipsy Roarer Gower! Now, Gipsy, my dear, set your wits towork, and get yourself out of this black hole of a prison."

  Going to the window, she looked out. The sight would have appalled anyone else; but it did not intimidate Gipsy. The room she was in was onthe third story, at a dizzy height from the ground. She looked aroundfor a rope to descend; but none did the room contain. What was she todo? Gipsy raised herself on one toe to consider.

  Suddenly her eye fell on a new suit of broadcloth her guardian hadbrought home only the day before. She did not hesitate an instant.

  To her great delight she found a pair of scissors in her pocket; and,taking the coat and unmentionables from the wall where they hung, shesat down and diligently fell to work cutting them into long strips.Fifteen minutes passed, and nothing remained of Guardy's new clothesbut a long black knotted string--which, to her great delight, she foundwould reach easily to the ground.

  Fastening it to the window-sill securely, she began to descend, and inten minutes she stood once more on _terra firma_.

  Going to the stables, she saddled Mignonne and led him to the frontgate, where she left him standing. Then, with unheard-of audacity, sheentered the hall, opened the dining-room door, and thrusting in herwicked little head, she exclaimed exultingly:

  "I say, Guardy, you can 'pay' me any time at your leisure, and I'll giveyou a receipt in full."

  Then, I am sorry to say, making a hideous grimace, she turned to fly;but the squire jumped from his seat--overturning the bishop and Mrs.Senator Long in his violent haste--and shouting, "Stop her! stop her!"rushed after her from the room.

  But he was too late
, and she leaped upon Mignonne's back and was off.Waving her hat in the air in a defiant "hurra!" she dashed down the roadand disappeared.

  Amazement and rage were struggling in the breast of the squire. Doubtingwhether it was all a delusion, he rushed up stairs to the room. The doorwas still fast; and, burning with impatience, he opened it. And there hefound the window wide open, and his new suit converted into a rope,which still dangled, as if in exultation from the window. And themystery was solved.

  What the squire said and did there, it is useless to say. The readerknows his remarks were anything but edifying; and even the augustpresence of the overturned bishop could not prevent him from hurling atorrent of invectives against the unfortunate Gipsy. Never had SquireErliston been so angry in his life. Inwardly vowing that she shouldrepent what she had done, the squire "bided his time"--little dreaminghow bitterly he was destined to repent that vow.