The Gypsy Queen's Vow

“Now for a game of hide-and-go-seek. Catch me if you can, Mr. Garnet; but if you have any consideration for this clean floor, keep a respectful distance. Blood-stains are not the easiest removed in the world, especially such bad blood as yours; and this long knife and a willing hand can make an ugly wound.”

She had him at bay again. There was a fierce, red, dangerous light in her flaming eyes, now; and a look of deep, steady determination in the dark, wild little face. Rozzel Garnet perceptibly cooled down for a moment; but then, as if maddened by her taunting, deriding smile, he bounded toward her with the fearful spring of a wild beast, and had her in his arms before she could elude his grasp.

But the bright-winged little wasp had its sting yet. Up flew the blue, glittering knife, down it descended with all the force of her small arm; but her aim was not sure, and it lodged in his shoulder.

With an awful oath, he seized her hands in his vise-like grip, and with his other pulled out the knife. The wound was not deep, yet the blood spurted up as he pulled it out, in his very face.

The sight seemed to rouse him to madness; and Pet writhed with pain in his fierce grasp. She felt herself fainting. A dreadful weakness was stealing through her frame; when as if sent by Heaven, a quick, heavy step was heard without, and then a commanding voice calling:

“Hallo, Garnet! where are you?”

With a fierce imprecation of rage, the baffled villain hurled the nearly swooning girl from him, and turned to leave the room, hissing in her ear:

“Foiled again! But you are still in my power. By Heaven and all its hosts, I will yet have my revenge!”

Pet dropped into a seat, and, feeling sick and giddy, bowed her head on her hands. Never in her life before had she fully realized her own weakness. What would all her boasted strength have availed her but for that heavenly interposition? A moment ago, and she was as a child in the grasp of a giant. What an escape she had had! How she blessed, in her heart, he, whoever it might have been, who had saved her!

Pet’s emotions, no matter of what nature, never lasted long. Ten minutes now sufficed to make “Richard himself again;” and with a short but fervent prayer of thanksgiving, she sat up, drew a long breath of unspeakable relief, and began looking ruefully at her wrists, all black and blue from his iron pressure.

“Natural bracelets!” said Pet, with a slight grimace of pain. “Jet and azure. I can’t say I approve of such violent love-making; it’s unpleasant and excites one – rather! However, ‘the course of true love never did run smooth,’ according to that nice man, Mr. Shakespeare; though I hope it isn’t always as rough as the severe course I underwent just now. Good gracious! What a tiger I have raised in that quondam tutor of mine! Pretty instructor he was for youth, to be sure! But lo! the curtain rises! What is to be the next scene, I wonder?”

As she spoke, the curtain was pushed aside, and a new actor appeared. He walked over to the opposite side of the room, and leaning his elbow on a sort of mantel, gazed with a look of careless curiosity on Pet.

From the moment that young lady laid her black eyes upon him, she gave a violent start, and looked at him in utter amaze. For, save the disparity in their years, and a certain devil-may-care recklessness that this man had, she saw before her the living image of Ray Germaine!

The new-comer was a man apparently about forty years of age, with the bold, handsome features, the flashing black eyes, and raven hair of Ray Germaine. His face was bronzed by sun and wind many shades darker than that of his young prototype; and in his coarse sailor’s garb he looked the very beau ideal of a bold, reckless buccaneer. And yet, withal, he bore about him the same air of refinement Pet had noticed in the woman Marguerite, as if both had originally belonged to a far different grade of society than the branded outlaws to whom they now were joined.

But that likeness – that wonderful resemblance to Ray Germaine – it completely upset Miss Lawless’ nonchalance, as nothing in the world had ever done before. There she sat and stared, unable to remove her eyes from the dark, browned, handsome face that was turned toward her with a look half-careless, half-admiring, and wholly amused.

The man was the first to break the silence.

“You are the young lady they brought here last night, I presume?” he said, watching her curiously.

His voice, too, was like Ray’s, and bespoke him, even if nothing else had done so, above his calling – being those low, modulated tones that can only be educated into a man.

Pet did not reply. She did not hear him; in fact, being still lost in digesting her surprise at this astounding resemblance. He watched her for a moment as if waiting for an answer, and then a smile broke over his face. Pushing back his thick, clustering, raven hair, he said:

“Yes, look at me well, young lady. I presume you never saw an outlaw with a price upon his head before. Is it to curiosity alone, or is it to some concealed deformity, that I am indebted for that piercing scrutiny?”

Pet was aroused now, and reddened slightly at his words and look. Then her old impudence came back, and she answered quietly:

“No, you’re not the only outlaw with a price upon his head I have ever seen. I have just had the honor of holding an interview with one; though, really, I don’t think his head is worth a price above ten cents, if that. I suppose I have the sublime happiness of beholding his mightiness, the commander-in-chief of all the smugglers?”

“Even so! I have returned, you perceive, sooner than was expected; in fact, solely upon your account. I heard you were here, and came to see you.”

“Indeed! Well, I hope you like me?” said Pet, pertly.

“Most decidedly,” said the outlaw, passing his hand caressingly over his whiskers; “so much, in fact, that if I were not a married man I should be tempted to fall deplorably in love with you on the spot.”

“Well, you’ll greatly oblige me by doing nothing of the sort,” said Pet. “I have had enough of love to last me for one while. Love’s not the pleasantest thing in the world, judging by what I’ve seen of the article; and with the blessing of Providence, I’m going to have nothing whatever to do with it. May I ask the name of the gentleman whose prisoner I have the unspeakable happiness of being?”

“Certainly. I am called, for want of a better, Captain Reginald.”

“Captain Reginald what? That’s not a whole name.”

His brow darkened for a moment at some passing thought, then he replied:

“Never mind; it serves the purpose, and it’s the only one I believe I ever had a right to. I am afraid you find the solitude here rather irksome – do you not?”

“Well, Captain Reginald, to be candid with you, it’s not to say a place where a body would like to spend their lives. There’s no danger of one’s growing dissipated here, or anything that way, you know – which is, of course, an advantage. And now, might I ask who the gentleman is who has put himself to the very unnecessary trouble of having me carried off? All the rest seem to be dumb on the subject, from some cause.”

“I fear I will have to be dumb, too, my dear young lady; the gentleman who has shown his good taste by falling in love with you does not wish to be known at present. Can you not guess yourself?”

“Haven’t the remotest idea, unless it be Rozzel Garnet, or Orlando Toosypegs?”

“No – neither! Garnet, of course, brought you here, but he was paid to do it by another – we outlaws do anything, from murder down, for money. As for Toosypegs, or whatever the name may be, I haven’t the pleasure of knowing him; but I can assure you it is not he.”

“Well, then, I give it up. I never was good at guessing, so I’ll not bother my brain about it. Is it high treason to ask how long I am to be cooped up here in this under-ground hole?”

“Perhaps a fortnight, perhaps longer.”

“Vipers and rattlesnakes! – two whole blessed weeks! – whew! Well, Mr. Captain, all I have to say is that I’ll be a melancholy case of ‘accidental death’ before half the time, and then I wish your patron, whoever he may be, joy of his bargain.”

“We will hope for better things, my dear young lady. By the way, I have not heard your name yet – what is it?”

“Pet Lawless – better known to her unhappy friends as ‘Imp, Elf, Firefly, Nettle, Pepperpod,’ and many other equally proper, appropriate and suggestive names. ‘Queen regent and mistress imperial to all the witches and warlocks that ever rode on broomsticks,’ and leaves a large and disagreeable circle of friends to mourn her untimely loss. Requiescat in pace.“

All this Pet brought out at a breath, and so rapidly that the smuggler-captain looked completely bewildered.

“Lawless!” he exclaimed. “I did not think – do you know Judge Lawless of Heath Hill?” he asked abruptly.

“Slightly acquainted. They say I’m a daughter of his,” said Pet, composedly.

“His daughter? Young lady, are you jesting?”

“Well, I may be – quite unintentional on my part, though; if it sounds funny, you’re perfectly welcome to laugh at it till you’re black in the face. What was it?”

“You Judge Lawless’s daughter?” said the astonished captain.

“Nothing is certain in this uncertain world, Captain Reginald. I’ve always labored under that impression; if you know anything to the contrary, I am quite willing to be convinced.”

“Young lady, I wish you would be serious for one moment,” said the smuggler, knitting his dark brows. "If you are his daughter, there has been a terrible mistake here. Did not Rozzel Garnet live at Heath Hill for some years as the tutor of Miss Lawless?”

“Yes, sir, and he was sent about his business for wishing to teach her some things not laid down in the books.”

“Then he would know you at once. Oh! it’s impossible you can be Miss Lawless.”

“Very well, if it affords you any consolation to think so, you are perfectly welcome to your own opinion. Who am I then?”

“You were mistaken for, or rather you ought to be, a young lady, a celebrated beauty who lives in a cottage somewhere on the heath.”

“What! Erminie?”

“I really do not know the name. Is it possible you are not the one?”

“Well no, I rather think not. Though I may not be Pet Lawless; and as you say I’m not, I won’t dispute it – but I most decidedly am not Erminie Germaine.”

“Erminie who?” cried the outlaw, with a violent start.

“Germaine. Perhaps you object to that, too.”

“Pardon me; the name is – ” He paused and shaded his fine eyes for a moment with his hand, then looking up, he added: “She was the one who was to be brought here; if you are really Miss Lawless, then there has been a tremendous mistake.”

“Humph! it seems to me to have been a mistake all through. I shouldn’t wonder the least if it turns out to be some of Master Garnet’s handiwork. So they wanted to carry off Erminie? Now, I’m real glad I was taken, if it had saved Minnie. It appears to have been a pretty piece of business, from beginning to end.”

“I shall put an end to this mystery,” said the captain, starting up and going to the door. “Marguerite,” he said, lifting the screen, “send Rozzel Garnet here.”

“He has gone,” replied the voice of the woman. “He went away the moment you entered the room.”

“Sold!” cried Pet, jumping up, and whirling round like a top in her delight. “He has taken you all in – made April-fools of every mother’s son of you! Carried off me, Pet Lawless, for Erminie Germaine! He knew he would be discovered, and now he has fled; and when you see last night’s wind again, you will see him. Oh! I declare if it’s not the best joke I have heard this month of Sundays!”

And overcome by the (to her) irresistibly ludicrous discovery, of how the smugglers had been “sold” by one of themselves, Pet fell back, laughing uproariously.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

HOME FROM SEA

“The dark-blue jacket that enfolds the sailor’s manly breastBears more of real honor than the star and ermine vest;The tithe of folly in his head may wake the landsman’s mirth,But Nature proudly owns him as her child of sterling worth.”– Eliza Cook.

“Clear the track! off we go! whip up old lazybones there, and don’t let him crawl on at that snail’s pace! That’s more like; now for it, at five knots an hour! It’s pleasant to see the old familiar faces again, after knocking about in strange ports for half a dozen years – don’t you think so, messmate?” and the speaker, a dashing, handsome, good-humored-looking young fellow, with the unmistakable air of a sailor about him, gave his fellow-passenger, an elderly, cross-looking old gentleman, who sat beside him on the roof of the stage-coach, a confidential dig with his elbow, that nearly pushed him, head-first, out of his seat.

“Lord bless my soul! young man, there’s no necessity for breaking a man’s ribs about it – is there?” said the old gentleman, snappishly. “I dare say, it’s all very nice, but you needn’t dislocate your neighbor’s bones about it. Do you belong to this place?” asked the old man, after a short pause, during which his companion had politely apologized for the unnecessary force of the blow in the ribs.

“Yes, sir,” said the young man, with emphasis, “that I do! and in all my rambles round the world, I never saw a place I liked better! No place like home, you know. Hurrah! for good old Judestown!”

“I wonder you go to sea, then,” said the old man, crossly; “you’re a fool to do it, getting drowned fifty times a day. I warrant you, you are always on the spree whenever you get on shore, like the rest of them, spending all your money instead of putting it in the savings bank, as you ought to do, as a provision for your old age.”

“Me get on the spree?” said the sailor, drawing himself up; “no, sir-ee. All my money goes to provide bread and molasses for my wife and family.”

“Why, bless my soul and body!” exclaimed the old gentleman, surveying his young companion through his spectacles in utter surprise, “you’re surely not married yet, youngster.”

“Yes, I regret to say I am,” said the youngster in question in a passive tone, “and got a large family with large appetites to support. It’s melancholy to reflect upon, but it’s true. My wife keeps a billiard-saloon, and the children keep apple-stands at the corner of the streets, except my oldest daughter, and she’s at service. Fine family, sir! Halloa! here we are, at the Judestown House, and there’s my old friend, Mrs. Gudge.”

“Humph!” grunted the old gentleman, doubtfully; “where are you from last, young man?”

“Liverpool – ship ‘Sea Nymph;’ master, Burleigh; first mate, Randolph Lawless, Esq., late of Heath Hill. Had some distinguished passengers out with us, too,” said the young man, tightening his belt.

“Humph!” again grunted the old man. “Who were they, may I ask?”

“Certainly, you may ask, and I have great pleasure in answering, the Earl and Countess De Courcy, and their daughter, Lady Rita – perhaps you’re acquainted with them already,” said the young man, with a wicked look in his knowing eyes.

“No, sir, I’m not,” snapped the old man, “and, what’s more, I don’t want to be, either, whether you believe it or not.”

“Well, it’s their loss then; that’s all I have to say about it. Here we are at anchor, at last. Halloa, Mrs. Gudge! don’t you know me?” exclaimed the young man, springing lightly from his lofty perch and alighting like a cat on his feet.

“Why, Master Ranty! is this yourself?” cried Mrs. Gudge, clasping her fat hands and going off into a transport of delight, wonderful to behold. “Dearie me! how glad I am! how tall you are, and how brown, and handsomer than ever, I declare!”

Our old friend, Ranty, laughed, and dashed back his sun-browned locks off his happy, thoughtless face, as he answered:

“I believe you, Mrs. Gudge; so handsome, in fact, that they wanted to take away the Apollo Belvidere – a gentleman you are not acquainted with, Mrs. Gudge – and put me in his place. My modesty, of which I have at least the full of a tar-bucket, would not permit me to listen to such a proposal a moment. And now, my dear madam, how are all my friends at Heath Hill and Old Barrens?”

“First-rate!” replied Mrs. Gudge; “the judge was here, not ten minutes ago, with that big, rough fellow, with all the hair about his face; Black Bart they call him.”

“One of those notorious smugglers! whew! I hope my excellent father is not taking to contraband courses in his latter days. What, in the name of Amphitrite, could he want of Black Bart?”

“Well, he said he wanted information about the smugglers, and he sent my old man to look for Bart.”

“Humph! Set a fox to catch a fox! I wonder how he succeeded. Seen our Pet, lately?”

“No, not since one day she dressed herself in my Bobby’s clothes, and drove young Mr. Germaine and Miss Erminie over to the cottage,” said Mrs. Gudge, laughing.

“Dressed herself in Bob’s clothes! what the dickens did she do that for?”

“For fun, she said; none of us knew them that day except her, and she drove them over without their ever finding her out. Miss Pet always is doing something out of the way, you know, Master Ranty.”

“And how is Mr. Germaine and Miss Erminie, Mrs. Gudge?”

“Very well, indeed! Lor’ bless me! you would hardly know Mr. Ray; he’s shot up like a Maypole, and got one of them nasty mustarches onto his upper lip. Of all the ugly things they beats all. It actually makes my flesh creep to see them eating or drinking with them on. I’m glad you don’t wear one, Master Ranty, for of all the disgraceful things – ” Mrs. Gudge paused, and rolled her eyes as in intense disgust, by way of filling up the hiatus.

“It’s no merit of mine, I am afraid,” said Ranty, passing his hand over his lip; “I’ve been mowing away for the last three years; but owing to some mysterious dispensation of Providence, or the barrenness of the soil, or some other inscrutable reason, nothing can be induced to sprout. I feel myself put upon by Fate, I do so, Mrs. Gudge! There’s Ray, now with whiskers, flourishing, no doubt, like a green bay tree; and here am I, a young man twice as deserving, with a face as smooth as a sheet of foolscap. It’s a darned shame, and I won’t put up with it, hanged if I do! Mrs. Gudge, let me have a horse and wagon, or a superannuated gander, or a go-cart, or some other quadruped to take me home. Since I must tear myself away, I may as well do it first as last.”

Mrs. Gudge opened the door, and called to Bobby to bring round a horse; and soon after that hopeful made his appearance, leading the animal by the bridle. Ranty waved a good-by to Mrs. Gudge, flung a handful of coppers to her son, jumped into the saddle, and was off, as Bob Gudge afterward expressed it “like Old Nick in a gale of wind.”

Ranty’s eyes lit up with pleasure as the old, familiar scenes came once more in view. There was the forest road, bringing back the memory of the dangerous, practical joke they had played on Pet. There was Dismal Hollow, silent, grim gloomy, and lonely – a fit habitation for Miss Priscilla Toosypegs. There was the Barrens; there was the little, white, vine-shaded cottage; and yonder in the distance, dazzling in its spotless paint, was the staring, garish White Squall. There, too, was the brown-scorched road leading through the purple bloom of the heath to his own ancestral home of Heath Hill.

“Now to give them a surprise,” said Ranty, as he alighted at the little cottage-gate and approached the door; “wonder if Minnie will know me; I hope she is in.”

The parlor-door lay wide open, and he looked in unobserved. It was the day on which Judge Lawless had proposed, a few hours later; and Erminie, whose gentle nature had not quite recovered from the wound his threats and harsh words had given her, sat alone with the evening shadows falling around her – her head resting on her hand, and her large, soft blue eyes dark with unshed tears. Pet had just departed; and the quietness and reaction following the luster of her exciting presence made the silence and loneliness more dreary still.

Ranty’s first impulse had been to rush in, catch her in his arms, and give her a rousing salute; but the moment he saw her sweet, pale face and drooping figure, a feeling more nearly approaching to timidity than anything our impudent young sailor had ever felt before, held him back. Somehow he had expected to see a slender, delicate little girl, such as he had last beheld her; but she had passed away forever, and here in her place sat a tall, elegant girl, with a face as lovely as the hazel-haired Madonna’s that had smiled upon him in the dim, old cathedral-aisles of glorious Italy. He took one step forward; she lifted her head with a startled look; her eyes met his, and she started impetuously to her feet.

“Erminie!”

“Ranty! Oh, Ranty! I am so glad!”

She caught his hand in both hers, while her face, a moment before so pale, flushed with delight, and the violet eyes were fairly radiant with joy.

“Oh, Ranty, I am so glad! When did you come?”

“Got to Baltimore day before yesterday. I suppose you hardly expected to see me to-night, Erminie?”

“No, indeed! And it is the most delightful surprise!" exclaimed Erminie, her beautiful face irradiated with joy, and forgetting she was no longer speaking to the boy Ranty. But when she caught his eyes fixed upon her with a look the boy had never worn, the flush rose painfully even to her very forehead. She dropped his hand, while her eyes fell, and she said, in a less assured tone:

“Sit down; you must be tired after your journey. I am very sorry Ray is not at home to meet you.”

“Never mind; I will see him to-morrow. And all my friends have been quite well since I left, Erminie?”

“Yes, all. If you had arrived ten minutes sooner, you would have seen Pet. She has just gone.”

“Well, I will shortly have that pleasure. How tall you have grown, and how you have changed since I saw you last, Erminie!”

He meant more the emphatic but undefinable change from childhood to womanhood, than that of her looks. Perhaps Erminie understood him, for she said, laughing:

“Not for the worse, I hope. You, too, have changed, Master Ranty.”

“Well, not much, I think; I have grown five or six feet taller, and my complexion has become a genteel brown; but, otherwise, I am the same Ranty Lawless I went away.”

“A little quieter, I should hope, for the peace and well-being of the community at large. Do you still retain the high opinion you had of yourself before you left?”

“Yes, slightly increased,” said Ranty, who had now recovered all his customary nonchalance of manner. “There was a little lady out with us from England whose precious life I had the pleasure of saving; and with whose raven eyes and coal-black hair I would have fallen in love, but for the thought of a dear little blue-eyed fairy at home, who promised to wait for me until I could come back. Do you remember that promise, Erminie?”

“I only remember you were very absurd,” said Erminie, laughing and blushing. “Don’t talk nonsense; but tell me how you were so fortunate as to save the lady’s life?”

“Well, one windy evening, a little before dark, this little Lady Rita, who by the way, though the haughtiest, sauciest young damsel I ever encountered, was quite courageous, came upon deck, and insisted on remaining there, in spite of all expostulations to the contrary. She was leaning over the side, and I was standing near, watching her, for want of something better to do, when the vessel gave a sudden lurch round. I heard a scream, and beheld the place where her little ladyship had lately stood vacant. I caught sight of her the next moment struggling in the waves; and, in a twinkling, I was in after her. Lady Rita, who had hitherto looked down upon me and all the rest of us with sublimest hauteur and vestal prudery, made not the slightest objection to be caught in my arms now; on the contrary, she held on with an energy that nearly strangled me. A boat was lowered, and we were fished up, clinging to each other, as if bound to hold on to the last gasp. Lady Rita, according to the incomprehensible custom of the female sex in general, fainted stone dead the moment she found herself in safety. It’s interesting to faint, and I was looking round for a nice place to follow her example; but upon second thoughts I concluded I wouldn’t. There were no nice young ladies round who understood my case; and to be tickled with burnt feathers, and be drenched with cold water by a lot of sailors, was not to be thought of. Lady Rita was carried to the cabin; and a great fuss and commotion reigned there for the next two or three hours, while I was taking life easy, smoking a cigar on deck. Then the earl, her ‘parient,’ made his appearance, and completely deluged me with gratitude and thanks, which I stood like a hero, until the countess also came. Her tears and protestations of everlasting gratitude were a little too much, and I fled. I blush to say it, but I beat an inglorious retreat, for thanks are things one easily gets a surfeit of.”