CHAPTER XIV.
THE MOONLIGHT FLITTING.
"Oh, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd; She was a vixen when she went to school, And though she is but little, she is fierce."
The moonlight was falling brightly on the lawn, and shimmering likesilver sheen on the leaves of the horse-chestnuts, as Gipsy rode home.The company had just dispersed, and the squire was about to retire, whenthe clatter of horse's hoofs on the graveled path made him start up andhasten out to the porch. And there he beheld the audacious Gipsy ridingfearlessly toward him, shouting at the top of her lungs some wildchorus, of which he only caught the words:
"You must place in my coffin a bottle of red, And say a good fellow is gone."
"If I don't pay her off before I sleep to-night!" muttered the squire,between his clenched teeth. "I'll put an end to her pranks, or know forwhy."
Gipsy leaped lightly from her horse, and resigning him to Jupiter, ranup the steps, and encountered the purple face and blazing eyes of herangry guardian.
"Good-evening, Guardy!" was her salute. "Nice night!"
"Stop!" said the squire, catching her by the arm as she was about to runpast--"stop! I've an account to settle with you, my lady!"
"Oh, any time at your convenience, Squire Erliston; I'll not be hard onyou."
"Silence, Miss Impertinence! You have the impudence of Satan to face meafter what you have done!"
"Now, Guardy, don't be unreasonable, but look at the matter in itsproper light. All fashionable people paint."
"Silence!" exclaimed the squire, in a voice hoarse with rage. "Silence!before I brain you, you little villain! You have made me thelaughing-stock of the country for miles around. I can never dare to showmy face after what has occurred, without being jeered and mocked at. Andall through you--the creature of my bounty--the miserable little wretchwho would have been a common street-beggar if I had not clothed, andfed, and educated you!--through you, you brazen-faced, good-for-nothinglittle pauper, whom I would have kicked out long ago to the workhousewhere you belong, if I had not feared the opinion of the world. Begonefrom my sight, before I am tempted to brain you!"
His face was perfectly livid with the storm of passion into which he hadwrought himself. As he ceased, he raised his hand and brutally struckher a blow that sent her reeling across the room.
Then all the demon in her fiery nature was aroused. With the shriek of awounded panther, she leaped toward him, with clenched hands, blazingeyes, hard-ground teeth, ghastly face, convulsed brow, and eyes thatfairly scintillated sparks of fire. She looked a perfect little fiend,as she glared upon him, quivering in every nerve with frenzied passion.
The old sinner drew back appalled, frightened into calmness by thatdark, fierce face. For a moment he expected she would spring at histhroat like a tigress and strangle him. But, with a long, wild cry, sheclasped her hands above her head, and fled swiftly up-stairs,disappearing like some elfin sprite in the darkness beyond.
"Good Lord!" muttered the squire, wiping the drops of terror off hisface. "What a perfect little devil! Did ever any one see such a look ona human face before! It's my opinion she's allied to Old Nick, and willcarry me off some night in a brimstone of cloud and fire--I mean a fireof cloud and brimstone. Good gracious! I'm palpitating like a hystericalgirl. I never got such a fright in my life. I vow it's a danger to go tobed with that desperate little limb in the house. I shouldn't wonder ifshe set the place on fire about our ears and burned us all in our beds,or cut our throats, or something. She looked wild and crazy enough to doit. Well, I reckon, I'll be more careful how I chastise her for thefuture, that's certain."
So saying, the squire took his night-lamp and went off to bed, takingthe precaution to double lock his door, lest the "little imp" shouldtake it into her head to carry him off bodily during the night.
No such catastrophe occurred, however, and when the squire went down tobreakfast, he found everything going on as usual. Lizzie lay on alounge, immersed in the pages of a novel, and Louis sat by the windowbusily sketching, as was his custom.
"I say, Lizzie, have you seen anything of Gipsy this morning?" heinquired, as he entered.
"No, papa."
"I'd rather think she rode off before any of us were up this morning,"said Louis, raising his head. "Mignonne is not in the stable."
This was nothing unusual, so without waiting for her, the family satdown to breakfast.
But half an hour after, Totty came running in alarm to Mrs. Gower, tosay Miss Gipsy's bed had not been slept in all night. This fact wasself-evident; and the worthy housekeeper sought out the squire to learnwhether Gipsy had returned home the night before.
"Yes, yes, to be sure she did. 'Night brings home all stragglers,' asSolomon says. Why?"
"Because she has not slept in her bed the livelong night."
"No!" shouted the squire, springing from his seat, as if some one hadspeared him. "Lord bless me! where can she have gone?"
"Ah, Squire Erliston, you do not think anything has happened to the dearchild, do you?" said Mrs. Gower, clasping her hands.
"Fiddle-de-dee, woman, of course not. She's gone back to Deep Dale, I'lllay a wager. Oh, here comes young Rivers, now we'll know."
"Archie, my dear," said Mrs. Gower, as that young gentleman entered theroom, "did Gipsy go back to Deep Dale last night?"
"Go back! Why, of course she didn't."
"Oh, Squire Erliston, you hear that. Oh, where can that crazy creaturehave gone?" exclaimed Mrs. Gower, twisting her fingers in distress.
"Why, what's wrong? Where is Gipsy?" asked Archie, in surprise.
"Oh, I don't know. She came home late last night, and must have goneaway somewhere, for she never went to bed at all. Oh, I am sure she hasbeen killed, or drowned, or shot, or something! I always knew it wouldhappen," and Mrs. Gower fairly began to cry.
"Knew what would happen?" said Archie, perplexed and alarmed.
"Something or other. I always said it; and now my words have come true,"replied Mrs. Gower sobbing.
"Mrs. Gower, ma'am, allow me to tell you, you're a fool!" broke out thesquire. "Most likely she didn't feel sleepy, and rode off before youwere out of your bed this morning, just like the young minx. Ring thebell, and we'll see what time she started."
Archie obeyed, and Totty made her appearance.
"Tott," said the master, "be off with you, and send Jupiter hereimmediately."
Totty ducked her wooly head by way of reply, as she ran off, andpresently Jupiter made his appearance in evident trouble.
"Jupe, you black rascal, what time did Gipsy ride off this morning?"asked the squire.
"Please, mas'r, it warn't dis mornin' she rid off," said Jupiter,holding the door ajar, in order that he might retreat if his master grewviolent.
"What do you mean, sir?" roared his master, in rising terror.
"'Deed, mas'r, I couldn't stop the young wixen--de young lady, Imean--she don't mind me, no how, she don't."
"Nor anybody else, for that matter," groaned the squire, inwardly.
"You see, mas'r, arter she come home, I tuk Minnon inter de stable, and'gan rubbin' him down, 'caze he was all in a foam she done rid him sohard. Well, 'bout half an hour arter, as I was goin' to bed, I hears anoise in de yard, an' when I looks out, dar was Miss Gipsy takin' dehorse out again. 'Deed she was, mas'r, an' 'fore I could get out she wargone--'twan't no fault of mine."
"Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy!" shouted the squire, jumping to his legs and stampingup and down the floor in an agony of remorse and sorrow. "And I'vedriven you from home, old monster that I am! I'm a brute! an alligator!a crocodile! a wretched old wretch! a miserable, forsaken old sinner!and I'll knock down any man that dare say to the contrary! Oh, Gipsy, mydear little plague! where are you now? My darling little wild eaglet!friendless in the wide world!" Here catching sight of Jupiter stillstanding in the doorway, he rushed upon him and shook him until theunfortunate darkey's jaws chattered like a pair of castanets. "As foryou, you black rascal! I have a goo
d mind to break every bone in yourworthless skin. Why didn't you wake me up, sir, when you saw her going,eh? Answer me that!"
"Mas'r--ma--ma--mas'r," stuttered poor Jupiter, half strangled, "'deedde Lord knows I was 'fraid to 'sturb ye. Ma--ma--ma--mas'r----"
"Silence, sir! Up with you and mount--let every man, woman, and child inthe place be off in search of her. And Mrs. Gower, ma'am, do you stopsnuffling there. 'No use crying for spilled milk,' as Solomon says.We'll have her home and soundly thrashed before night, or my name's notMagnus Theodoric Erliston. Ha! there! Louis! Archie! the rest of you,mount and off! And Mrs. Gower, ma'am, do you run out and saddle myhorse, and bring him round while I draw on my boots."
"Squire Erliston," sobbed the poor old lady, "you know very well I can'tsaddle your horse. Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy!" she added, with a fresh burst oftears.
"Well, fly and tell some of the rest, then. Women are such worthlesscreatures--good for nothing but crying. There they go, with Louis andyoung Rivers at their head, to scour the country. 'In the days when wewent gipsying,' as Solomon says. I do believe that little minx will bethe death of me yet--I know she will! I'm losing flesh; I'm losingtemper; I'm losing cash! I'm losing rest, and losing patience every day.She'll bring my gray hairs in sorrow to the grave, as Solomon says, onlyI happen to wear a wig, Ah! there's my horse. Now for it! Gipsy Gower,you little torment, you, _won't_ I tell you a piece of my mind when Icatch you!"
But the squire was destined not to catch her; for, though they continuedthe search for the lost one until night, no trace of her could be found.All that could be learned of her was from an innkeeper in a neighboringtown, some twenty miles distant. He said a young girl answering thedescription given of Gipsy had arrived there about daylight, and, aftertaking a hasty breakfast, had left her horse--which was utterlyexhausted by the pace with which she had ridden him--and started in themail coach for the city.
Mignonne was led home, and as it was too late to go farther that day thetired horsemen returned, silent and dispirited, homeward. The next daythe search was renewed, and the driver of the mail-coach questionedconcerning the little fugitive. He could throw but little light on thesubject; she accompanied him as far as the city, where she paid her fareand left him. And that was all he knew.
Placards were posted up, and rewards offered; the police were put uponher track; but all in vain. And at last all hope was given up, and thelost child was resigned to her fate.
One day, about three weeks after her flight, the postman brought aletter for Mrs. Gower. One glance at the superscription, and with a cryof joy she tore it open, for it was in the light, careless hand ofGipsy. It ran as follows:
"MY DEAR, DARLING AUNTY:--I suppose you have had great times up at Sunset Hall since I made a moonlight flitting of it. I wish I had been there to see the fun. I suppose Guardy stamped and roared, and blew up Jupiter, and blessed _me_--after his old style. Well, you know, aunty, I just couldn't help it. Guardy was getting so unbearable there was no standing him, and so I'm going to take Gipsy Gower under my own especial patronage, and make a good girl of her. Don't be angry, now, aunty, because I'll take precious good care of myself--see if I don't. Tell Guardy not to make a fuss, for fear it might bring on the gout, and tell him not to keep searching for me, for if he hunts till he's black in the face he won't find me. Remember me to Aunt Liz, and Louis, and Celeste, and--and _Archie_. Tell Archie not to fall in love with anybody else; if he does he may look out for a squall from your own little GIPSY."
This characteristic letter, instead of comforting the family, plungedthem into still deeper trouble on her account. Mrs. Gower wept for herdarling unceasingly, and would not be comforted; Lizzie sighed andyawned, and lay on her lounge from morning till night, looking drearierthan ever; and the servants went in silence and sadness about theirdaily business, heaving a sigh and shedding a tear over every mementothat recalled poor Gipsy. Now that she was gone they found how dearlythey loved her, in spite of all the scrapes and troubles she had evercost them.
A dull, heavy, stagnant silence hung over the mansion from morning tillnight. There was no more banging of doors, and flying in and out, and upand down stairs, and scolding, and shouting, and singing all in oneburst, now. The squire was blue-molding--fairly "running to seed," as hemournfully expressed it--for want of his little torment.
No one missed the merry little elf more than the lusty old squire, whosighed like a furnace, and sat undisturbed in his own arm-chair from oneweek's end to the other. Sometimes Louis would bring over Celeste, whohad nearly wept her gentle eyes out for the loss of her friend, tocomfort him, and the fair, loving little creature would nestle on astool at his feet and lay her golden head in his lap, and go to sleep.And the squire would caress her fair, silken curls with his great, roughhands, and pat her white, dimpling shoulders, and turn away with a halfgroan; for she was not Gipsy!
As for poor Archie, he took to wandering in the woods and shootingunoffending birds and rabbits, because it was Gipsy's favorite sport,and looked as doleful as though he had lost every friend in the world.
"Fall in love with any one else," indeed! Master Archie scorned theidea, and began to have sundry visions of joining the monks of La Trappeas soon as he grew old enough. This and his other threats of going tosea, of enlisting, of killing somebody, by way of relieving his spirits,kept poor Celeste trembling with fear for him from morning till night.And in her own gentle way she would put her arms round his neck and cryon his shoulder, and beg of him not to say such naughty things, for thatGipsy would come back yet--she _knew_ that she would.
But Minnette, who didn't care a straw whether Gipsy ever came back ornot, would laugh her short, deriding laugh, and advise him to become aSister of Charity at once. And Celeste said _she_ would be one when shegrew up, and then she would be always near to comfort him. AndMinnette's taunts always sent poor Archie off to the woods in a moreheart-broken state of mind than ever before.
Sharing Her Crime: A Novel Page 15
