"I don't jest like to speak of it."

"Is it anything you are ashamed of?"

"No, but then you know everybody hates to talk about bein' in love."

"Oh, that is it. Has the deacon been here again?"

"Oh, la, me, yes; now don't you go to talkin' about him. You can't appreciate bein' in my place 'cause you never was in love."

"Has he proposed?" Miss Elsworth asked, trying to hide a smile.

"Gracious, yes."

So Miss Elsworth had settled up her affairs at Roxbury, giving the contents of the old house to Mrs. Morris, and after seeing her happily married to the deacon, she bade good bye to her friends there, who parted from her with tearful eyes and repeated requests that she would visit them as often as possible.

She returned to the city, where she began her work with renewed energy. She had sent a note to Scott, saying she would be there on the evening of the last day of October, and now the time had arrived when she was to meet him as she told him she would, in her true character, and make a full confession of the deception she had practiced. She went wrapped in a cloak which covered her entire form, her face being covered by a thick veil. At her request she was shown to Scott's room, where he awaited her. A look of surprise pa.s.sed over his face as he noticed her strange attire.

"I promised," she said, throwing aside her veil, "to come to you in my true character."

Scott bowed and stepped forward to a.s.sist her in removing her wraps.

He took the cloak from her shoulders, and there stood before him, a beautiful picture of gypsy loveliness. Her dark, full skirt of rich purple velvet scarcely reached the top of her purple velvet boots, and was elaborately embroidered with gold. Her close fitting bodice revealed to perfection her full, round form, and the large flowing sleeves, with their gold colored satin linings, revealed at every turn the beautifully moulded arms. Beads of every conceivable size and color hung around her neck, and fastened back the raven locks of hair that fell like a cloud below her waist.

"Miss Elsworth," Scott said, as soon as he had requested her to be seated. "I am surprised to see you in this dress. What does it all mean?"

"I knew you would be, and that is why I would not accept the offer you made me--the generous offer of your love, and when I have told you my story you will thank heaven that I did not."

Scott was seated a short distance from her, looking steadily into her face.

"I shall not ask your pardon, for I have done no intentional wrong, only I ask that you do not censure me too severely for the deception which I have practiced. I am not Miss Elsworth, the auth.o.r.ess, as you suppose."

"You are not Miss Elsworth, the auth.o.r.ess?"

"No."

"Why did you deceive me?"

"I will tell you. I come to you not as Miss Elsworth, but as Zula, the gypsy girl."

"What? You are not a gypsy?"

"Yes, I am. Hard it is for me to think so, but the truth must be told.

I am Zula, the gypsy. Do you remember years ago of a little, wicked girl, who tried to steal the silver from your mother's table, and how you kindly set her free?"

"Yes, I remember, though my sister was the one who persuaded me to go after her."

"But you went; and through your kindness she was released. Do you remember also a time that a young man was hunting near a gypsy camp a few miles from Detroit and found the same little girl being beaten by a fiend; a cruel gypsy?"

"Yes, I remember it well, and knew she was the same one whom I had rescued from the jail."

"Do you remember of your kindness toward her and how you gave her your address that she might find you if she needed your a.s.sistance?"

"Yes."

"She never forgot your face, nor your kindness. Her name was Zula, and so is mine."

"Are you really not Miss Elsworth?"

"No, I am only Zula, the gypsy girl."

"A gypsy," Scott said in a low voice. "Can it be? Miss Elsworth, Blanche, I cannot believe it. I cannot believe you guilty of so much deception."

"Let me tell you why I deceived you. It was because I had sworn to return your kindness in some way, and I have tried."

"You are none the less lovely, if you are a gypsy."

Zula, as we must now call her, turned her beautiful eyes full upon Scott's face as she said:

"You will see no beauty when I tell you that I am of the very lowest parentage, and old Meg is my mother, and Crisp is my brother."

"Good heavens! Do not tell me that."

"It is true."

Scott rang the bell, and as a servant appeared he said:

"Order the horses and carriage, and take these two notes to the numbers indicated. Tell the persons to come immediately."

The servant departed, and Scott remained thoughtful for a few moments with his head bowed upon his hands. At length he looked up, gazing straight into Zula's eyes, and said:

"Zula--if that is your name--I cannot bear deceit, but I believe that your motive has been a pure one; but I have loved you more for your beauty of thought and actions than for your loveliness of face, and now you tell me that you are not an auth.o.r.ess."

"You are mistaken in that. I said I was not Miss Elsworth, the auth.o.r.ess, but I am 'Auralia,' and only a gypsy girl, the daughter of a low fortune-teller and a sister of one of the most degraded of men."

"I have seen old Meg at her home, but I never saw you there."

"I have not seen her for years; not since I received that cruel beating from Crisp."

"I have sent for her, and when she comes I will ask you to step into the next apartment, as she has promised to tell me something of Irene's history, which she claims to know, and which your presence might interfere with, but Zula," he said, taking a step nearer to her, "I cannot help loving you if you are a gypsy girl. You must have been a brave, good girl to have fought so many hard battles, which I know you must of necessity have been compelled to do, to reach the standard you have. You have done a n.o.ble work, and however low your birth, whatever misfortune you may have met, so that you have come out of the fire purified, and with a name honored by yourself and your G.o.d, my love is still the same. Zula, this shall not come between us. I loved the woman whom the world praised, but I love the gypsy girl none the less."

"Scott, you have not heard it all. Do not make your decision until you have done so."

At that moment a servant announced Mr. Le Moyne.

"I have sent for you for the promised interview," said Scott. "Allow me the honor of presenting Miss Elsworth, the auth.o.r.ess."

Mr. Le Moyne was a polished gentleman, but he failed to hide from the penetrating eyes of Scott the look of surprise which pa.s.sed over his face, as his eyes fell on the gay dress in which Zula was robed. The sound of voices at the hall door soon attracted the attention of Zula, and waving her hand to Scott by way of explanation, she stepped behind the thick folds of satin which shaded the bay window near which she sat.

"You may send my mother and Mr. and Mrs. Horton to my room," Scott said to the boy who had waited on Meg and Crisp at the door.