Her Humble Lover OR THE GYPSY PEER

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 53, 2 March 1907, Page 14

Her Humble Lover OR THE GYPSY PEER

By CHARLES GARVICR V. ■A.UTHOB Of -Sun*- "Hkb H r sD r » hollow Gold/ Thb Makqub," etc «w«»

CHAPTER XXXIX. .fITIEX THE DKIXK'S IX, THE WITS OCT. At dawn of the day following the • night on which Lurli had made her escape the gipsy camp was in a wild state of commotion. Old Martha and Zillah had gone about their work so quietly and secretly that the rest of the tribe, though they might have had some vague surmises of her object., knew nothing definite; and it was only at the last moment that they admitted Colin to their counsels and pressed him into their service. At dawn, then, Martha and Lurli , fcbth well wrapped up in large grey Jcloaks, crept into the camp and noiselessly took up their old position in the little tent. Colin and Zillah, who alone were in the secret, breathed not a word of it and it was not until all the camp was in motion, the great kettle hissing over the common fire, that Martha .stepped out of the tent, and, going up to the i.ie, looked round with a smile that lit up her dark, twinkling eyes, and said, in the Romany tongue: '■Children, I've a surprise for ye." There was an immediate silence, and some of the women who had been at a little distance came closer, with their saucepans, full of food, in their hands, therr children clinging to their skirts. "What is't, mother?" gruffly demanded an old man, the father of the tribe. "See for yourselves,' , replied Martha, lifting her strong arm and pointing to her tent. Every eye was turned upon the little canvas hut, and Martha, hobbling up to it, pulled aside the curtain, and exclaimed: "Come out to them, queenie!" The nest instant Lurli, in one of her old dresses of scarlet and black, stepped out. Instantly a shout of joy rose from the throng; old and young—men, women and ehUdren- —pressed forward, and she was in some danger of suffocation from their mad embraces had not Martha driven, them off with blows and remonstrances, and then they only consented to go on the condition that she should accompany them. It was the first reaction after months of suspense and anxiety. They were not quite happy yet, for the pride of their life, the beloved of them all, was still absent; but for the moment they were ready to believe that he was not far distant, and they crowded round the fire, chattering and hurrahing with Lurli in their midst, her eyes filled with tears and her lips tremulous with emotion. \ After a little while, when they had demolished the breakfast, and the men had lit their pipes, they began to ask questions. When* had she been? Who was the iTiffian <?pon whom they had still to •trreak. fieir vengeance? And lastly, but ipt least anxiously put, where was Tajassi ? Lurii's eyes filled with tears, and she seemed too moved to answer. Martha answered for her, by bidding them ask no questions, but trust to her to procure for them both the return of Tazoni and their vengeance for the wrong done the mistress of their tribe; and, much to their disappointment, she soon after carried Lurli off to the tent, urging as' an excuse that the queen— for Lurli was crowned now in all their hearts, and was to be crowned in good earnest and regular form when Tazoni returned—wanted rest. When they entered the tent, however, Martha, it turned out, wanted information, and, after making Lurli comfortable on a warm couch of furs, she told her that she must know everything that had occurred to her. Lurii, with many a sigh at her own and Tazoni's unknown troubles, gave her a full recital. The old woman was a study for an artist as she sat listening. Sometimes she would remain motionless, her dark, beady eyes fixed upon Lurii's face with a piercing stare; at others she would rock herself to and fro, mumbling some Rommany chant; sometimes, when the narrative touched upon various persons, her shrivelled lips opened and wreathed into a snarl like a threatening wolf. She listened, however, in silence; then she asked a few important questions, listening to the answers with her head on one side and her brows knit with a speculative frown. "Tell mc what the cunning fox was like that snared thee, Queenie," she asked. "He that led thee from the tent and coaxed Tazoni to his ruin." Lurli described Luke, or as much of his face as the darkness of the night would allow her to see. ■'"Tis he!''" exclaimed Martha, rubbing her hands together. "And the gentleman that sighed up at the window at ye—what was he like? Ye've mentioned him many times, queenie." Lurli blushed and wiped the tears from her eyes to conceal it, as she described Sir Harry, which she did hurriedly, but flatteringly. "A grand gentleman, according to thy picture," mumbled the old woman. "He pitied thee, Queenie, did he?" "Oh, I'm sure he did," answered Lurli, eagerly. "There was a compassion in that sigh, mother, and it was a handsome, noble face! I wish I could see him again." "Well, thou art a great lady now," said the old woman, eyeing her with severe amusement. "Thou hast almost forgot thy Rommany and learned a new tongue; perhaps thou wilt meet him." "Never!" said Lurli, sorrowfully, and she turned away her head. "I know not who he wasj how should I meet him again—a poor gipsy girl?" ••'Hush, thou talkest like thy brother," mumbled the old woman. "He was too proud and clever for a gipsy. Nature will claim her own! Now tell mc again what that cur and his jackal said to thee, that I may measure it in my heart against the day of reckoning. By our j fathers they two shall know a gipsy's j vengeance sleepeth not, though it can wait with patience. Lord Raymond Hursley indeed! Ha! these trembling lips could tell a tale—but not now, not now. Thou listest with all thy ears, queenie, but not now!" Then, regaining her calm, she rose and left the tent. In a few minutes she returned, and commenced to pack up her bundle, which j she usuallj carried ytitib. her. on her journeys* '

I Queeme," she said, "I am going to travel again. I am going to Marston Moor. Events are drawing to a head. jWhat as to be will be, and the gipsy cannot hold back the hand which guides the future. Fear not for thy safety! man of the tribe stands pledged to watch thee night and day." She pointed as she spoke to the scouts, Viu Were standin g at different parts of the common commanding three road 3. j "They or others in their place will keep ; watch night and day," said Martha. I "And if that silent, sly fox. Hitchem, should sneak hither, fear nothing! He cannot harm thee! 3ut keep thy tent, queenie; keep thy tent." Lurli, who owed her freedom to the sagacity of the old woman, could not .but kiss her and promise to obey her; and so they parted, Lurli clinging to her to the last minute, and watching her bent, but active, form till it had disappeared. ! A few nights afterward the Chequers Inn, that lay snugly sheltered in the vale of Marston Moor, was filled with some merry folk drinking away their earnings, as is the British custom. The bar was a snug little place, well screened from the draught by thick crimson curtains, that threw a dark stain of vivid light upon the road without, ] and enticed the tired and thirsty traveller, until the temptation became irresistible. But it was comfortable in the j bar, and much more cosy was it in the taproom at the side, in which a huge fire blazed in the great fireplace, and the curtains were supplemented by tall, wooden-backed settles. Here, with their pots of beer foaming over upon the table, the patrons of the. Chequers felt at home indeed. On this night the company consisted of two or three farm labourers, a stablehelp from Earlseourt, a groom from Northeliffe, and the great man of the place, Mr. Luke Smeaton, head gamekeeper to Lord Xortheliffe. In the corner farthest away from the fire sat, or rather lay, for "ne seemed quite asleep, a red-headed ploughboy, his head supported on his hands, and his thick eyelids closed tightly, as if they ■ never meant to open again. If a sculptor had desired a model of stupidity he could have hit upon none more suitable than that ploughboy. Mr. Luke Smeaton was a frequent visitor at the Chequers; indeed, he spent all his time that was not occupied in killing and selling the Northcliffe game behind the comfortable red curtains, and it was a rare thing for the house to close without sending Master Luke out into the road with a polite push, to expedite his unsteady movements. Mr. Luke's salary, people said, must be a good one, for he always had plenty of money, and when in his cups was Avont to boast that when his present stock of cash ran out he knew where to get some more. He boasted to a greater extent even than that, and when half-seas over, and seated upon the taproom table, with his pipe in his mouth and an air of tipsy importance upon his red face, would snap his fingers at lords and ladies, and declare that Lord Hursley was under his thumb, and that he could twist him round his little finger. The patrons of the Chequers paid little attention, however, to his boastful nonsense; they were too used to it to notice his bragging. Sometimes, when a stranger was present, which happened but seldom, Mr. Luke remained silent. To-night there was only the sleepyheaded ploughboy, and Luke was, being more excited than usual, rampant. Rapping the table with the pot which he had just emptied, he shouted, with an accompaniment of hiccoughs and oaths: ""Here, lan'lord, fill this pot again; fill 'em all round! When a man's got money, he ought to spend it,. that , s what I say! What's the use of money if you don't spend it? Fill 'em up! Fill 'em up!" The landlord did as he was requested, and left the room, jingling Mr. Luke's money in his apron pocket. ""Well, and how be the young master, Mr. Luke?" asked one of the men, knowing that he was expected to lead up to the treater's favourite topic. "Oh, he's all right," said Luke, lighting his pipe and looking round with a tipsy wink; ''he's all right, and so he'll continue while he keeps friends with Luke. I know how to manage him, my boys. We've been partners in many a spree; ay, such a spree as you don't none o' you guess on. Billy, do I look like a man as knows how to manage a lord or not?" This question, put to one of the farm labourers, always met with the same response. , "You be indeed, Master Luke, you be indeed." "In course," laughed Luke. "I knows how to manage 'em. Lords ain't nothing to mc, for I knows what makes 'em lords. I knows, the secret, and they knows they must keep well with their best friend or the trick's out. Drink away, boys, drink away. Plenty more liquor in the bar, and plenty more money to pay for it," and he struck his pocket. '"What's that chap doin' in the corner there? Wake him up, Bill, and pass the tipple." The labourer trudged across the room and shook the ploughboy by the shoulder. '•"Here, wake up, sonny. Don't *cc hear ' the gentleman a' askin' ye to drink? Zounds,'what a stoopid face the younker's got!" The ploughboy lifted his sleepy face and stared round soullessly, then drained the pot and sank into his somnolent attitude again. "Let him sleep, p'raps he's tired. I've known what it is to be tired before tonight, boys; but I'm a gentleman now. Ain't I a gentleman?" he asked, turning savagely to his little court. '•"You be, you be indeed," was the response. "Then drink," said Luke, with an oath, "and I'll give you a loast. Here's i may the young lord o' Northcliffe soon icome to his own." The men took up the pots and set them down again. "You don't want the ould lord to die, Mr. Luke, surely?" "Why not?" hiccoughed Luke. "Ain't he lived long enough? Let the old ones make room for the young ones, say I. And I'll tell you what," he added, leaning forward so confidentially that he I nearly fell from his perch on the table. I "If I'd had my way I'd a made room ifor his betters months ago. Ob, yjou

may Btare, but I tell ye it's true! What! are you afraid of a lord? Not I, not Luke Smeaton! Drink, boys, drink! Plenty o , beer -where there's plenty; o* money!" "Do ye be careful, Mr. Luke," remonstrated one of the men, holding up the great man as he" Was on the point of falling. "You be so rash an' foolish in your talk an , in your deeds to-day. Now, there was the steward ony yesterday a-sayin' as how the birds were growing thin, and as he'd have to write an' tell the young lord you was a-makin' away wi' 'em/ "Let him!" roared Luke, staggering on to the table and waving his pipe round his head in idiotic defiance. "Let him! Who cares for the steward? Not I! Who cares for my lord either? Not I! I'll do as I like with the birds, and ye. may tell the young lord as I says so. What's a few pheasants to mc when I could have the whole o' Northcliffe if I liked to open my mouth wide enough? As for Mr. Steward, I'll have him sent about his business. I'll show him I'm as great a mau as him —ay, a greater man than any in the village." "What, greater than Lord Northcliffe?" ventured to ask the groom, laughingly. "Ay, for he's an old idiot, on his last legs," retorted Luke, with an oath. "Oh," said the groom. "Greater than my young lord, too?" "Ay, that I be," said Luke. "If the father's greater than the son!" "You are going ahead a bit to-night, Master Luke," laughed the groom. "Ha! ha! a gamekeeper a greater man than his master!" "So I be," said Luke, rushing, at him, "and I'll show thee I am, idiot!" 1 And he raised the quart pot with deadly intent. "Keep him off!" shouted the young fellow, "or I'll give him one as will stop his boasting!" And ho. caught up the poker. The other men, seeing that their paymaster was too far gone to resent their interference, fell upon him in a body, and drove him to a seat, into which he fell, swearing and panting more like a brute than a human being. "Keep ye quiet!" said Bill. "Ye be gone a good way into ye cups to-night, Master Luke, an' thy tongue do run faster than ever. S'pose the young lord should hear of it!" "Young lord!" "roared Bill, setting down a pot which he had emptied of its contents. "He's no more a lord than you are! Who's afraid of him, the insolent, ungrateful young jackanapes? What! is a man to run his head into a noose for another and not get a thankee for it? Not I. I'm Luke Smeaton, I am, and no man's tool for nothing. Halves, fair halves, I say, half the risk, half the money, and nothing left for the hangman! Drink, boys, there's more money —plenty more—landlord, fill the —the—the gentlemen's g-glasses." "No, you've had too much, Luke, already," said the landlord, entering. "Come, Bill, help mc to get him out; time's up, and we must shut up. Here, you chap, wake up; what a chuck head he must be to sleep through all this ramping row." And, taking the ploughboy by the shoulders, he shook him to and fro as he would have done a tailor's dummy. Then, when he saw signs of life and motion in his somnolent customer, he turned his attention to the noisy one again. By the aid of the groom and the labourers the worthy landlord hoisted and bustled the burly gamekeeper into the bar, and from the bar into the, road. "Now, then, all of you turn out. Who's going to take him home?" "Oh, don't 'ec trouble about that," laughed one of the men. "lie's missis is alters at the top o' the road a waitin' for him." "All right, off with you then. Goodnight, Sleepy head," he added, as the ploughboy rose, with a yawn, a few moments after the others had disappeared. "Good-night, master," he returned, drowsily, and shambled down the steps. The landlord swung to the door and bolted it, and the ploughboy was left in the dark so completely that a bent figure which had been standing in the shadow, watching the outpouring, did not see him, and groping her way into the road with hand and stick, caught his arm. In an instant the sleepy ploughboy was transformed into a very sharp and active individual, for before one could utter Jack Robison, he had whipped out a dark lantern from his smock and poured a stream of light upon the person who had touched him. "Hullo!" he muttered with a dry laugh. ''It's you, Mother Skin-and-Bone, is it? And how's the camp?" Martha—for it was she—lifted her crutch and struck the lantern so that its light fell upon the ploughboy's face. "Mr. Hitchem," she croaked. "I thought so!" "Hush, mum's the word, if you please, old lady," said Mr. Hitchem, with a dry chuckle. "You've been outside the window; heard every word?" "Every word!" hissed Martha, Coming nearer to him and scanning his face with cunning acuteness. "So have you, sleeping fox, eh?" Mr. Hitchem nodded and smiled. '"And what's your game, eh, old lady?" "Yours," croaked eld Martha, laying her skinny old hand upon his arm. "Yours, Master Bloodaound?" "Mine, eh?" said Mr. Hitchem, scratching his head. "You've discovered something, have you? I thought so by the look of your eyes. Well, shall we hunt in couples?" "Ay," answered Martha, ? with a smile that" was a fearful grimace. "We'll hunt in couples, Mr. Bloodhound; and we'll soon pull the game down. He! he!" (To be Continued on Ssonday.)