"'The hawk does not mate with the barn-door fowl,' said she, 'and the Romany chal marries with the Romany chi, for surely we are one people; but this affects neither you nor me, Fin. If gipsies cannot trust each other, how shall we hold our own against the Gentiles? Mary Lee was a good-for-nothing hussey; Uncle Ryley a cruel, blood-thirsty monster; and here we are at the camp. Take your bundle, Fin, I've carried it till I'm tired. Yes; I'll shake hands with you. Good-night.'"

Extricating herself impatiently from the embrace of her affianced husband, who succeeded, however, in pressing his lips against her brow, she disappeared within one of the tents, leaving Fin Cooper outside, a prey to contending feelings, among which jealousy and suspicion were in the ascendant. He loved the girl: of that he was quite sure, and in such a character, love is a fearful motive power for good or evil. It possesses also a keen instinct of reciprocity, not to be deceived, and few conditions are more pitiable than that of a strong wilful temperament, persuading itself, against its own convictions, that it is not exchanging gold for silver, that the ship which carries its whole freight is not sinking hourly beneath its feet.

The gipsy would have been angered, even to baring of steel, by any comrade who had warned him of that which his heart began to tell him too plainly, though he dared not admit it to himself, who had hinted that Thyra loved another, and that other, one of the forbidden race--which, for all his Romany pride and Romany prejudices, he could not but acknowledge superior in every respect to his own. But he knew it, nevertheless, and only waited an opportunity to avenge himself on the rival, whom he had identified, almost to certainty, with John Garnet, _alias_ Galloping Jack, the highwayman. Even now, he thought it might not be too late to detach Waif from her unworthy and impossible attachment. Far into the night Fin Cooper tossed and turned from side to side, restless and sleepless, because of his wrongs, his memories, and his feverish longing to have his hand on John Garnet's throat.

Waif, too, was uneasy and wakeful. She had not listened to the tale of Mary Lee, without accepting its moral for a warning to herself. Well she knew that in the b.l.o.o.d.y code of her people, to love a Gorgio was an offence punished by death. And she loved a Gorgio! Aye, loved him, as she thought with a thrill of pride, essentially womanly in the exquisite pleasure it evoked, the more deeply and dearly for the penalty. No pale-faced girl could care for him like that! When the time came, she would give him her life, as she had given him her love, without a murmur or a reproach.

Perhaps, at that moment, he was looking at the very star on which her eyes were fixed, as it twinkled through the gaps in her brown weather-worn tent. Perhaps, who knows, in another life, to be spent up there amongst those stars, they might find themselves together? and so Waif's dark eyes closed in that other life, on which we enter every night, and the girl sank into a peaceful sleep, dreaming calmly of her love.

CHAPTER XIII.

ON THE SCENT.

Wittingly or unwittingly, n.o.body ever offended Katerfelto without regretting it. To do him justice, the Charlatan had every intention of screening John Garnet from the avenger of blood, when he started his patient on the Western Road, in pursuit of Lord Bellinger's ponderous coach-and-six. The young man, he thought, would prove a useful tool enough, and he had no objection to do him a kindness into the bargain, provided it cost nothing, and would turn to his own advantage; but, when he discovered Waif was missing too, before the good grey horse and its rider had been six hours out of London, he at once connected the girl's flight with _his_ absence, whom she had nursed so tenderly, and in a quiet, remorseless way vowed vengeance upon both.

John Garnet's mission, if fulfilled at all, must be carried out within three days at farthest. When accomplished, it mattered little what became of the messenger. Perhaps the sooner he was set aside the better.

What was the cost of a man and horse, valuable as might be the latter, compared with the interest at stake, with the gains and losses of the great game in which every player waged life and fortune on the result?

Parson Gale, wearying sadly of London, and longing for his moorland hills, found himself no longer put off with mysterious hints, and unintelligible jargon; but, to use his own metaphor, was laid on the line, like a bloodhound resolving to track it, inch for inch, till he pinned his quarry by the throat.

Many misgivings had the Parson during this, perhaps the most unpleasant, week he ever spent in his life. Orthodox in his opinions, however lax in his practice, it went cruelly against the grain to believe that in seeking Katerfelto's a.s.sistance he was tampering with the powers of darkness. Many a time, after his coa.r.s.e pot-house supper, was his sleep haunted by grotesque visions of the evil one, carrying to eternal torment a figure in boots, bands, and ca.s.sock, that he recognised for his own. His knees used to shake, and his short grizzled hair to stand on end, when the Charlatan, leading him into a dark room, bade him wait patiently, while inquiries were made of certain intelligences that ought to have done with things of earth, yet betrayed a marvellous interest in earthly trifles, earthly follies, and earthly cares. The minutes seemed lengthened into hours while he sat motionless, expecting every moment to behold the pale violet gleam of a corpse-light, to feel the faint flutter of spirit-fingers, catch the faint breath of spirit-whispers--worst of all, to be threatened with the personal manifestation of some obtrusive spirit itself.

Katerfelto, who possessed a strong sense of humour, and enjoyed a joke for its own sake, even though he had none with whom to share it, used to describe at length the discipline, the gradations, the daily life, scenery, and vegetable productions of the spirit-world; counting its spheres, explaining its mysteries, and insisting strongly on the somewhat thick-witted good-nature of its inhabitants.

The Parson's nerves were of no sensitive fibre. He possessed his share of English bull-dog courage. Give him a beef-steak, a tankard of ale, and,

"Had a Paynim host before him stood, He had charged them through and through;"

but he was not proof against dangers of which he had no experience, and could form no conception. The crowning dread of his life at this period was the apparition of some luminous figure, clad in misty robes of white, prepared to answer his questions evasively in a hollow whisper, lift him bodily into s.p.a.ce for pure fun, and lay in his hand a flower of no terrestrial growth, fresh and fragrant, but wet with the dews of another world. It never _did_ appear to him, and very thankful he felt that it did not!

It was, therefore, with no slight feelings of relief, that on his last visit to Deadman's Alley, he found the Charlatan dressed to go abroad, and was invited by that unaccountable person to partake of a bottle by daylight, rather than await a manifestation, fasting, in the dark.

"Your servant, sir," said the Parson, flinging his shovel hat in the corner, while he filled his gla.s.s without a second bidding. "This looks like business, Doctor, at last. Indeed, I am sick to death of the town life, and the town ways. But for your message, I should have been on the good bay nag horse, half a day's journey towards Exeter by this time."

"Do they use you so badly, then?" asked Katerfelto with a smile, while he scanned him keenly from under his bushy eyebrows. "Do they not treat Abner Gale with proper respect as a West-country gentleman, a noted sportsman, and a pillar of the Church? In sad truth, it is a perverse and ignorant generation."

"Now you're bamming me, Doctor," replied the other, good-humouredly.

"But a man is ent.i.tled to his jest who gives such wine as this. My service to you. Yes, I'll take a second gla.s.s the more willingly, as I shall not have another chance. I leave London to-morrow at sunrise, weather permitting, and before high noon, as we say in the West, whether or no!"

"Is it purse or patience that you have worn out?" asked Katerfelto; "there are means of replenishing the one and repairing the other."

"Both!" answered the Parson. "A man had as well be in the Fleet prison, as the coffee-room of a Covent-garden hotel! I seem to pay hard money for every breath I draw, and not to breathe freely after all! I'm an early stirrer, Doctor! man and boy, winter and summer I've been used to see the sun rise. Ah! you can breathe in my country like a grampus, if you choose. Well, I come down to break my fast at a reasonable hour, and not a creature is afoot in the whole house but the cat and me. Presently steals in a slipshod drawer, unbraced, uncombed, unwashed, and scarce half-awake. The varlet fetches a toast and tankard, may be, with a knotch from the musty end of a chine that the rats have gnawned in the night. I fling it at his head; I cuff him soundly; I kick him round the room in my stocking-feet, for the other knave will not have cleaned my boots till noon. Presently I drink my beer, and forgive him; but to make peace with the rogue costs me a crown. At last I get my coat and hat brushed, band fitted, boots blacked, and sally forth into the streets.

They're full, Doctor, a man can scarce turn himself round; yet do I feel so lonely, that if I was a woman or a child, I should sit down and cry.

"I might ride through Exmoor half a summer's day and never set eyes on a human face, but the curlew seems to know me as he flits by, with a quiet call of greeting and a wave of his wide brown wing--the red hinds, leading their calves along the ridges, look kindly over their shoulders, and turn their handsome heads to gaze after me, till they disappear.

Why, the very breeze, whispering among the rushes, has been pilfering in my own garden, not so many miles away. You know no more than a blind man what morning means till you've seen the sun rise in North Devon! I wish I was back there now. I _will_ be back there next week if I'm alive!"

"But surely, Doctor," observed Katerfelto, with a covert smile, "a man of your presence finds no difficulty in making acquaintances and even friends. The Londoners are not an inhospitable people, and are said to be exceedingly kind to a stranger if he has but money in his pockets."

"Kind enough!" answered the other, "so long as it costs nothing. They'll find fair words, I grant, and plenty of them, at the rate of a guinea a-piece. It was but yesterday two ladies gave me good-morrow from their coach so heartily, I made sure I must have met them on Taunton race-course or may be in the Cathedral close at Exeter. 'Welcome to London, Doctor,' says one, 'how did you leave your friends in the West?'

'You don't remember _me_, Doctor,' laughs the other, as comely a wench as you'll see this side of Devizes 'but I haven't forgotten you, and I wish I _could_.' So I off with my hat, and up into the coach without another word, thinking for sure I had fallen among friends at last, and would you believe it? the first was an old harridan that might have been my mother, and the second hussy had scarce a tooth in her head, besides being raddled with red paint, and smelling of brandy fit to knock you down! Nay, I have done with your London once for all. If I make good speed, I'll be home in time for Dulverton Feast. I'll have no need to look about for friends there, and I can tell you, Doctor, I've been parched with strong ale and heady port, till I long for a gallon of cider, if it cost me five shillings a quart. Now we'll go to business, by your leave. If you've any more to say in my matters, out with it! Any way, bad or good, let us settle up and part friends!"

"I have constrained those to do my bidding who can furnish the intelligence you require," answered Katerfelto solemnly. "To-night, if you have the courage."

"Nay, nay!" interrupted the Parson, his jolly face blanching at the suggestion, "your word is quite enough, Doctor. I neither doubt _you_ nor _them_. Name your price, and let us have done with it!"

"Go home, then," continued the Charlatan, "with what speed you can make.

Amongst your own West-country hills you will find your enemy and the slayer of your kinsman, John Garnet by name; a proper youth, able-bodied, and an expert swordsman. If I bade you spare him, would you listen one moment to my plea?"

He was not listening now. "John Garnet," he repeated, "John Garnet,"

grinding the syllables between his teeth as he branded the name into his memory.

"Look out, John Garnet, and keep your hands up the first time you come across Abner Gale!"

Katerfelto had seen too much of mankind and their worst pa.s.sions, to be easily moved; but he felt his blood curdle while he marked the Parson's rubicund cheek turn to a sallow white. If ever there was _murder_ in a man's face, he read it now. Perhaps for one short moment he felt compunction, but the weakness was soon over. "He is better out of the way," thought Katerfelto, "and things must take their course."

Thus it fell out that the West-country parson was riding steadily homeward over Marlborough Downs the same evening Lord Bellinger's coach was rifled by the gipsies, and its owner left a captive in the thraldom of his own word of honour till the moon rose.

Notwithstanding the nature of his errand, Abner Gale seemed in high health and spirits.

It was delightful to breathe a free, fresh air, untainted by the smells of London--to see the sky come down to a wide horizon uninterrupted by streets and houses--to feel beneath him the strong elastic action of his good bay horse, and to taste at different halting-places a sound and wholesome ale unadulterated by the tricks of metropolitan trade. To use his own words, he was "as happy as a king," yet he never wavered for an instant in his merciless purpose, never hesitated as to how he should act when he came face to face with his foe!

Riding along the down, the two subjects nearest his heart were his supper and his revenge.

The moon was sailing high and clear in an unclouded sky. Suddenly the Parson drew rein, sitting for an instant motionless as a statue: then, urging his horse with hand and heel, arrived at a gallop in the midst of the unaccountable little party, of which he had caught sight.

The scene was ridiculous, grotesque, strange enough for a dream. Two strapping servants in bright liveries paced to and fro, looking thoroughly frightened and ashamed, none the less, that both were armed to the teeth. A middle-aged person in faded finery sat on the ground apart, weeping feebly and wringing her hands. Five horses harnessed to a coach stood patiently on the solitary down, while one lay dead at their feet, and inside the coach were a gentleman and lady calmly playing cards! Abner Gale pulling up suddenly amongst them, created no little consternation. The footmen went down on their knees, the middle-aged person screamed and fell on her back, the horses p.r.i.c.ked their ears and snorted, while a quiet voice inside the coach was heard to exclaim, "_Re-pique_, my lady! What? Another gentleman of the road, and on a bay horse this time! Perhaps, sir, before proceeding to business, you will kindly allow us to finish our game!"

Lord Bellinger played a winning card, and thrust his head out of the window, laughing heartily at the discomfiture of his domestics.

"Can I help you?" said the new arrival, in his rough blunt tones. "I am an honest man enough as times go. A poor West-country parson, at your service, and my name is Abner Gale."

"Mr. Gale," replied his lordship, taking off his hat, "let me present you to Lady Bellinger. If you are of the church militant, reverend sir, you should have been here an hour or two ago; you might have seen some fine sport, and taken a turn at it yourself, to the tune of 'Wigs on the Green.' It's too late now, but I think we could have told a different story could I have found something like a _man_ to back me up!"

If levelled at his servants, the taunt fell harmless. Their wits were still abroad, but they felt comforted and rea.s.sured to learn that the second highwayman was but a parson after all!

"Have you met with an accident, my lord?" asked Gale, with a clumsy bow, "ill-usage, or misadventure of any kind? Command my services, I beg, on behalf of yourself and her ladyship."

"The moon! the moon!" exclaimed Lady Bellinger, much to the Parson's disturbance, who thought she had gone mad. "It's over the tree! It's eleven o'clock! Don't stop another minute! Let us drive to the inn at once, and try to forget, only I never _shall_ forget this dreadful night!"

So my lord and the servants, with the powerful a.s.sistance of their new auxiliary, got the heavy coach once more into motion, my lady so far remembering the parson's existence, as to entreat that he would ride close beside the wheel, and, if need be, defend them with his life!

The procession soon reached its destination, the same inn at which John Garnet had dined. Driving into the yard without its full complement of horses, the servants in a high state of excitement, everybody talking at once, it was obvious the coach had been attacked by a highwayman. The old ostler smiled and winked, the landlord smiled and looked at his wife, the wife smiled and shook her head, the cook smiled, the scullions smiled, everybody seemed interested and well pleased, more particularly when it transpired that the a.s.sailant, having taken what he wanted, had made his escape uninjured by so much as a scratch. None seemed astonished when his lordship, inquiring eagerly for particulars as to the robber and his grey horse, mentioned that the only clue he had obtained to his ident.i.ty was the name of Galloping Jack. The landlord, of course, knew nothing. A landlord never _does_ know anything. The ostler, on cross-examination by the stupidest of Lord Bellinger's footmen, had no recollection of any grey horse in particular. So many grey horses were put up in their stables, coming and going to Marlborough market and what-not? How was he to distinguish which was which, while the maids, preparing my lady's chamber, and airing my lady's bed, furnished Mistress Rachel with so marvellous an account of Galloping Jack, his exploits and enormities, that the waiting gentlewoman could not mention his name without a shudder, connecting him, by some inexplicable process of reasoning, with all the myths and terrible personages she had ever heard of, such as St. George and the Dragon, Blue-beard, and Herod of Jewry, surnamed the Great.