CHAPTER XXVIII.

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.