"None, I thank you, my dear madam," he replied; "I do not require it.

But now do not let me detain you. I know that you, too, have the painful task of breaking the confirmation of our fears to her who will feel the pang more acutely than any."

"Indeed, I hardly know how to do it," replied Mrs. Falkland. "To a casual observer, Marian may appear cold and indifferent by nature; but quite the reverse is known to be the case by those who have better opportunities of judging. Her heart is all warmth, and tenderness, and affection; and it is, perhaps, a consciousness of the very excess of such feelings that makes her put a stricter guard upon the expression of them. I fear that these tidings, if told entirely, will go far to kill her."

"Then by no means tell them, my dear madam," replied Manners: "I am no advocate for concealments or pious frauds of any kind; and where the strength of the individual is able to bear them up, we should always speak the truth: but of course we must regulate our conduct by our knowledge of the person; and both from what I have seen to-day, and what you yourself say, I would strongly advise you--if you will excuse my doing so--to tell Miss De Vaux, merely, that I have not succeeded in my first search for my poor friend, and that I am still following the same object in a different direction."

"I believe I must do even as you say," replied Mrs. Falkland, "and suffer Marian's mind to come to the sad conclusion, to which we have already come, by degrees. Though the suspense may be harrowing, yet it will not have so bad an effect on her as the sudden confirmation of her worst fears. Allow me, too, to hint, Colonel Manners, that you will find my brother less capable of bearing such tidings than you may imagine, from what you have seen of his demeanour. His love for his son was as ardent as his other pa.s.sions."

"Do not be afraid, my dear madam," replied Manners, taking her hand; "I will do nothing roughly, believe me."

"I do, indeed," answered Mrs. Falkland--"I do, indeed, believe that it is not in the nature of Colonel Manners to act unkindly to anyone. At what time shall I order the carriage?"

"Oh, not at all--not at all," he answered; "I will ride: it is always my custom; and as soon as I have written this letter, and my servant has returned, I will set out. Let me detain you no longer, and G.o.d grant that our fears may have magnified the proofs in their own support."

END OF VOL. I.

THE GIPSY;

A TALE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF

"RICHELIEU," "MARY OF BURGUNDY," &c.

"Ah! what a tangled web we weave, When first we venture to deceive."

Sir Walter Scott.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

NEW YORK HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE.

1855.

THE GIPSY

CHAPTER I.

Nothing shows us, perhaps, the utter blindness in which we are held by fate more completely, than the constant fallacy of our calculations in regard to even the smallest events over which we have not a personal and unlimited control. A letter is put into our hands in a writing that we know; and ere we have broken the seal, fancy, aided by the best efforts of reason, has laid out before us the probable contents: but as soon as the seal is broken, we find the whole as different therefrom as it is possible to imagine. A friend, or a stranger, comes to see us; and ere we can reach the room where he is waiting, imagination has done her work, and given us a full account of the person and his errand. We expect some pleasant meeting, or some glad tidings, and we go but to hear of some bitter loss or sad disappointment.

Thus, as Lord Dewry walked towards the room to which he had directed the servant to conduct Colonel Manners, he did not fail to calculate the cause of his coming. "He is either here," thought the peer, "to apologize for his conduct, in which case I shall treat him with contempt, or he has come to proffer that personal satisfaction which he before refused. I hope the latter; and if so, I shall have a cause sufficient to a.s.sign for demanding Edward's immediate rupture with him."

As he thus thought, he opened the door of the saloon in the midst of which Colonel Manners was standing, booted, and spurred, and dusty, from the road; but with that air of ease, composure, and calmness which spoke his character.

"My lord," he said, as soon as the peer entered, "I am obliged very unwillingly to intrude upon you; and, of course, feel more uncomfortable in interrupting you at this unseasonable hour: but the business on which I come admits of no delay."

"I am not aware, sir," replied the peer, frowning sternly, "what business can remain between us, after our last meeting, when you thought fit--"

"My lord," interrupted Colonel Manners, anxious to put a stop to a revival of past grievances, which, at the present moment, could only aggravate the pain he had to inflict--"my lord, my present business is totally unconnected with the past; and extremely sorry I am that anything ever occurred between your lordship and myself to render my present visit disagreeable to you in itself."

"Sir, your expression of sorrow," replied the peer, "as is usual in such cases, comes too late; but to your business, sir. Do not let me interrupt that. What is your business with me? for the sooner we settle it the better shall I be pleased."

There was a pertinacity in Lord Dewry's rudeness that offended Manners; but he gave no way to his anger. There was a stronger feeling in his bosom; and pity for the childless old man not barely mastered every other sensation, but mastered all so completely, that he went on with as nice a calculation of the best and kindest means of breaking his loss to the peer, as if not a word had been said but those of welcome and civility. "My lord," he replied, "I come to you as one of the princ.i.p.al magistrates of this county, in your quality of lord-lieutenant--"

"I wish, sir," interrupted the peer, "that you had sought some other magistrate to whom your presence would have been more welcome."

"I might have done so, my lord," replied Manners, "had the business on which I had to seek a magistrate not been one so immediately affecting your lordship, that although, in the first instance, I wrote to the nearest justice of the peace that I could hear of--Mr. Arden--I thought it but right to ride over myself to request your co-operation in the measures we are taking."

Manners observed a change of expression, and a slight degree of paleness pa.s.s over the countenance of his hearer; and, although he certainly did not attribute it to that consciousness of crime and consequent feeling of insecurity in which it really originated, he saw that the first step was gained; and that the peer was, in some degree, prepared to hear evil tidings. Lord Dewry, however, replied in a manner which had nearly forced the communication at once. "May I ask, sir," he said, in a tone grave but less bitter than that which he had formerly employed--"may I ask, sir, why, when business of importance concerning myself occurred, my son did not take upon himself the task of communicating with his father upon the subject, but rather left it to a person whose visit was certainly unsolicited?"

"Because, my lord, your son was not capable of doing so," replied Colonel Manners, "from the fact of his being absent from Morley House."

"Not at Morley House!" cried the peer. "Pray where is he, then, sir?"

"I really cannot inform your lordship," replied Manners, "for I do not know."

"Good G.o.d! this is very extraordinary," cried Lord Dewry, taking alarm more from the tone of Manners's voice, and the expression of his countenance, than from anything he had said. "For Heaven's sake, explain yourself, sir. Where is my son? What is your business? Sit down, sir, I beg! What is it you seek?"

By the agitated manner in which the baron spoke, Manners saw that he must proceed cautiously.

"May I ask you, my lord, if you have ever heard of a person named Pharold, a gipsy?" he demanded, intending by this question to lead his hearer's mind away, for a moment, from the real subject of apprehension; but, without at all wishing it, by that very inquiry he redoubled the agitation of the peer.