The gipsy's warning

Front matter

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Preface

Not many years since, a concealed room was discovered by an architect employed to make some alterations in an old English mansion. In it were found rich furniture, jewels heaped up on the dressing table, and on the sumptuous bed lay two skeletons, both supposed to have perished by violence.

That statement was the nucleus of the following story.

Contents

Chapter Page

I. — A PROUD AND KTJINED OLD HOUSE 23

II.— THE gipsy’s prophecies 32

Chapter I. A Proud And Ruined Old House

It was a stately mansion of the olden time, surrounded by trees coeval with its origin. The Priory had been built before the days of Henry VIII., and among other church property had been confiscated and bestowed upon one of the retainers of the court.

Finding the original building inconvenient as a private residence, Sir Henry Methurn added a new wing to it in the Tudor style of architecture, and the apartments in the older portion of the building were suffered to fall into partial decay.

The immense pile presented a rather incongruous appearance ; but the lapse of time had imparted an air of sombre grandeur to its dilapidated walls which accorded with the deep shadows cast by the unpruned trees, and the neglected park over which the underwood was permitted to spring in unchecked luxuriance.

The evening sun penetrated through an open door into a wide hall paneled with oak, and decorated with faded banners and ancient armor. A grand staircase wound upward from this, at the head of which was a large window filled

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with painted glass representing a scriptural scene, executed in a style of art unknown in England at that day.

This window had once formed a portion of the decoration of the chapel, and by the command of the new lord of the domain it had been removed to the more modern portion of the building.

Doors opened on either hand into the apartments used by the family; but these comprised but a small portion of the mansion, for the fortunes of the house of Methurn had fallen into decay, and of the wide lands granted to Sir Henry his great-grandson retained but a moiety. This was partly due to the civil war under Charles I., in which the lord of the Priory had adhered to the royal cause, partly to the habits of extravagance in which the successive owners of the property indulged.

The present proprietor, Sir Hugh Methurn, retained only the Priory and a few farms, which brought him in but a tithe of the income once enjoyed by his ancestors.

A large chair, heavily carved, was drawn near the open door, in which sat the burly form of the baronet. He was apparently absorbed in unpleasant thought, for his brow was clouded, and his lips unclosed at intervals to utter imprecations.

Sir Hugh Methurn was a heavy, coarse-looking man, verging toward his sixtieth year, and his bloated features betrayed the cause of the gout from which he evidently suffered, for his swollen feet were wrapped in flannel, and a crutch rested against the arm of his chair.

Few who looked upon the wreck of a once stately-looking man would have recognized the court gallant who, in the roystering days of Charles II., had figured among the most distinguished beaux of that dissolute period. Foremost among the most reckless of the merry monarch’s court was the gay Sir Hugh Methurn, and the deepest inroads upon his inheritance were made in those days of reckless folly and boundless prodigality.

When his ruin was nearly consummated, Sir Hugh retired to his paternal acres to recruit his finances and curse the extravagance of which he had been guilty. On looking into his affairs he found that the only resource to avert absolute ruin was a wealthy marriage. The hey-day of youth was past, but Sir Hugh was still a fine-looking man, with the polished address of a finished courtier with which to veil the inherent coarseness of his nature and the violence of his temper.

Devoured with ennui in his secluded home, he sought such diversion as the society of the neighborhood afforded, and, in spite of the reputation which had preceded him, he was graciously received by every family in which unmarried daughters were found. Quite a rivalry ensued between the young ladies of the neighborhood as to which one should bear the title of Lady Methurn, and this doubtful honor was finally bestowed upon an orphan heiress whose fortune was entirely within her own control. Sir Hugh made such inquiries as satisfied him as to the exact amount possessed by Miss Yernor and the manner in which it was invested. She had inherited thirty thousand pounds, which at that day was considered a magnificent dower.

Sir Hugh decided that with her beauty and fortune Arabella Veruor was worthy to become his wife, and he so successfully played the part of the tender wooer that within three months from their first meeting she became Lady Methurn.

The union proved wretchedly unhappy. The young bride was spirited and haughty ; she was perfectly conscious of what was due to her as the possessor of a large fortune and the wife of an English baronet ; but the exacting and imperious temper of her husband led him to treat her only as a

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superior menial in his household rather than as its lawful mistress.

Lady Methurn soon recoiled from her husband with all the strength of a passionate nature ; she bitterly resented the treatment she received ; but the hard and cold nature with which she had to deal crushed her into submission, and her proud heart broke beneath the indignities to which she was subjected.

In the first year of their union a son was born, and a few months afterward Lady Methurn suddenly died under very mysterious circumstances. She had no near relations to inquire into the causes of her death, and although many wild stories were whispered in the neighborhood, no one ventured openly to accuse Sir Hugh of having made away with his wife.

Satisfied with his experience of married life, the baronet made no effort to assume such bonds again. The infant was put out to nurse, and Sir Hugh returned to London to resume his former course of dissipation. He no longer cared to glitter in court circles, but in gambling houses, at horse races and theatres he was always found, and the fortune obtained by his wife soon melted away as his own had done before. He thought little of the wrong he was thus inflicting upon his son, for self-indulgence was the first law of his nature, and the claims of others were held as nought where they conflicted with his own wishes.

At length his resources were exhausted, his health broken, and premature old age creeping upon him. Nothing remained to him but to return to his paternal acres and vegetate there for the remainder of his life. Sir Hugh found his son a wild untrained lad of ten summers, nominally under the care of the curate of the parish, who eked out his narrow income by receiving a few pupils; but Yernor preferred a ride after the fox hounds, or a gunning expedition, to the dull lore of books.

His father rather encouraged such preferences; he thought they indicated manliness of character, and his cold heart opened to the boy as he fancied he recognized in his wild daring and wayward spirit a strong resemblance to himself.

The gay sallies of the lad amused him, and after Sir Hugh’s return to the Priory, Vernor’s attendance upon his tutor was less frequent than ever. The father and son lived together, and two servants, a groom and housekeeper, formed their whole establishment. Thus Yernor might have grown into a veritable Orson, but in his fourteenth year a diversion was made in his favor by the arrival of a gfentle and refined woman to act as mistress of his father’s house.

Sir Hugh had an only brother, who lived on a small property inherited from his mother, which was situated in the north of England. His sudden demise left a widow and only son slenderly provided for ; for Henry Methurn had embarked all his means in a speculation, the failure of which broke his heart. In his last moments he wrote an appeal to his brother to receive his widow and child beneath his roof, and assist her to educate her son for some career in which Gerald could win his bread in the future. Mrs. Methurn had a small annuity secured to her for life, but it was insufficient to enable her to live in comfort with her son.

At the first reception of this news, Sir Hugh was irate at the burden about to be imposed upon his broken fortunes, but Vernor declared that he should be glad to have a companion of his own age to share his sports ; he insisted that their household would be better managed by his aunt than by the old woman who performed the double duties of cook and housekeeper.

Sir Hugh reflected that Mrs. Methurn would not be absolutely dependent upon him, and with less reluctance the letter was written which accorded permission to the widow and her son to shelter themselves beneath his roof.

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They came, and the baronet soon found that he would have no cause to regret his liberality. Mrs. Methurn was a pleasing and refined woman, an accomplished nurse, and thoroughly drilled in domestic affairs. She brought with her a servant of her own, and a suit of apartments was prepared for her use. The changes she introduced in their way of living were so gradually and unostentatiously made, that Sir Hugh was scarcely conscious of them till they were accomplished. She nursed him in his attacks of gout so skillfully — bore with his outbursts of temper so patiently, that he soon wondered how he had managed to live so long without her womanly ministrations.

Her son was a quiet, retiring lad in his twelfth year, who submitted to be patronized by Yernor with an air of placid indifference, for the two cousins were as unlike in character as they were in personal appearance. The young heir, with his fair complexion, profusion of fair hair, and light, flashing blue eyes, seemed the very impersonation of the wild and daring Saxon ; his fiery and impatient temper would not brook constraint, and nearly as free as the Arab of the desert he had hitherto been.

Gerald Methurn was in every respect a strong contrast to him. His complexion was dark, his eyes and hair black like those of his mother, and his features regular as those of a young Antinous. His lithe and graceful figure was perfectly proportioned, and promised in its full development a rare union of strength and symmetry. Beneath the gentleness of his manner lay impulses as strong, a will as unyielding as that of his more demonstrative cousin ; but of that he was as yet himself unconscious. The influence of his mother had thus far moulded his nature, but when the trials of life came, Gerald was to show the true metal that lay beneath that fair boyish exterior.

In the second year of Mrs. Methurn’s residence at the

Priory, a strange lady in bad health came to the neighboring village for the benefit of sea-bathing. She was accompanied by a little girl of very attractive appearance and great sprightliness, who was then in her sixth year. In her visits of benevolence to the cottages of the poor, Mrs. Methurn accidentally encountered the pale invalid. An acquaintance ensued which soon ripened into a warm friendship. Mrs. Clifton was dying of an incurable disease, and she soon confided to her new friend the fact that at her decease her child would be left without a protector on whom she possessed any claim of affection.

Mrs. Clifton stated that she had eloped with the younger son of a noble family; her husband had been castoff for marrying so far beneath himself, for she was the daughter of his tutor. Her father received them in his humble home, and at his death bequeathed her the savings of life, which afforded her the narrow income of eighty pounds a year. On this the young couple managed to live contentedly, for they were devoted to each other, until Mr. Clifton was drowned in a yatching expedition.

The sudden and violent shock produced the heart disease of which she was dying, and what was to be the fate of her desolate orphan after her decease she could not think without a shudder. To the suggestion of Mrs. Methurn that her father’s family would probably receive the little Ethel, she replied that her husband’s family had treated her with such indignity that she could not think of throwing her daughter on their protection. She sighed bitterly as she added :

(i My Ethel is a little waif who will be thrown on this wide world after I am gone. Dear friend, if I could only confide her to you — once certain that your gentle, womanly heart would watch over her, I should die happy.”

u If I were in my own house,” replied Mrs. Methurn, <( I

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would not hesitate to assume the charge; but Sir Hugh is peculiar, and I am afraid that he would scarcely consent to receive the child at the Priory.”

11 She will not be a dependent,” said the pale mother. lt My small means are securely invested, and she will have enough to keep her above want. I must lose no time in seeking an asylum for her, for I feel that my time on earth is brief.”

This conversation took place on the evening of a lovely summer day, and the friends parted, little dreaming that it was for the last time.

At an early hour on the following day, a messenger came in haste to the Priory, to say that Mrs. Clifton was found dead in her bed that morning, and the child was inconsolable for the loss she had sustained. Mrs. Methurn went at once to the village, and the desolate state of the little creature thus left alone in the world, touched her deeply. She saw that arrangements for a respectable funeral were made, and returned to the Priory, bringing with her the young orphan ; for she justly reasoned that Sir Hugh would not object to her presence for a few days.

Coarse and ill-tempered as the baronet was, he was not quite an ogre, and the delicate beauty of the child, the deep and quiet sorrow of a creature so young, touched even his hard heart, and he submitted to her presence without making the disagreeable comments her new protectress had feared.

Mrs. Clifton was consigned to the grave, and her effects examined, to discover to whom letters should be addressed with reference to the position of the young Ethel. From these it was ascertained that Baron Clifton, of Cliffden, was her grandfather, and to him a notification of the sudden death was sent, together with a statement of where Ethel was to be found.

In due time a reply came, in which the viscount formally renounced all interest in the little girl, and refused to receive her. He stated that, on application to his man of business, fifty pounds a year would be paid for the support of the child, and requested her present protectors to find some one who would take charge of her for that sum. Beyond that he neither could nor would interest himself in her welfare ; her father had been disowned for the plebeian alliance he had made, and his daughter had no claim on him beyond being provided with the bare means of living.

Several weeks had elapsed since Ethel was received at the Priory, and in that time the natural playfulness and vivacity of her temper began to revive. She betrayed no fear of Sir Hugh, and the novelty of being caressed by a lovely little fairy, and prattled to with the sweet ingenuousness of her years, became attractive to him. The two boys were charmed with her precocious intelligence, and when the fiat of her grandfather came, it was soon understood that Ethel was to remain in the asylum in which fate had cast her.

The sum which was annually paid over to Sir Hugh’s order, enabled him to obtain many indulgences which he could not hitherto afford, and Ethel soon became an important member of the little family. Vernor teazed, petted and tyrannized over her by turns, and his more gentle cousin undertook the part of instructor to her in such branches of education as his mother did not superintend. Ethel proved a docile and apt pupil, and her young preceptor took extreme pride in her progress.

Mrs. Methurn became tenderly attached to her protegee, and she had never regretted the adoption of this little waif. Three years had passed away since the death of Mrs. Clifton, and Ethel was now in her tenth year, Gerald Methurn sixteen, and the young heir eighteen years of age. Such was the state of affairs at the Priory at the opening of our story.

THE GIPSY?S WARNING.

Chapter II. The Gipsy’s Prophecies

Sir Hugh uttered several impatient growls, and then burst forth :

“Diable ! am I to sit here by myself the whole evening ? What has become of those young monkeys, I wonder. What can have become of Ethel, that she does not come to tell me how the Mayday has passed off. Ah ! times have changed with me since I was the gayest galliard in such a scene. Dancing on the light fantastic toe wouldn’t be so pleasant with these cursed old gouty feet. Ugh! why can’t nature gently steal away the breath that is onty drawn in pain ? What is the use of an old hulk like me continuing to cumber the ground ? I’m tired of life; it’s a disgusting performance, this rattling through the seven ages allotted to man. I’ve almost come to the Mean and slippered pantaloon,’ though with me the lean portion will never come to pass ; I know how to keep up the supplies too well for that;” and he stretched forth his hand toward a decanter that stood on the table near him. After holding it up to the light, and admiringly surveying the deep ruby tint of the wine, he poured out a goblet nearly full, and quaffed it with the true gusto of a connoisseur.

“The doctor said a thimbleful wouldn’t hurt me. His idea of a thimbleful and mine probably differ ; but I prefer my measure. Fine wine — noble wine; but Yernor shows too much fondness for it of late. I must not encourage the lad in such habits, for they have brought me to what I am. So I’ll just finish the bottle before he returns. I’ve already exceeded bounds, and a drop more won’t add much to the mischief that’s already done. Why should wine, which

THE GIPSY’S PROPHECIES.

even the Scriptures recommend — which Christ himself manufactured out of water — be so injurious to man, I wonder? I don’t believe it is; my gout is constitutional; I got it from ray ancestors, with many other things that were better worth having, which have somehow slipped away from me, while this cursed inheritance hangs on, and cripples me half the time.”

While he thus muttered, Sir Hugh again applied to his bottle, and poured forth the last drop, which was drained at a draught. At that moment the sound of appoaching music was heard, which was soon blended with the confused murmur of voices ; and peering through the open door, he saw a joyous group approaching the house. The three most prominent figures were very familiar to him, and he grunted :

“ Hum ! coming at last, with that pack of grinning fools at their heels ! I wonder why they couldn’t have finished their revels without disturbing me with all this noise and clamor ? ”

The door on his left hand opened, and a serene-looking woman, wearing a black robe and plain white collar, approached him. Mrs. Methurn was yet youthful-looking, and the black hair that was combed back from her broad, smooth brow was unthreaded by a line of silver. The eyes were large, dark, and singularly soft in their expression ; and the quiet grace of her movements revealed the refined and gentle spirit from which they emanated. She spoke in a soft clear voice :

“ Our revellers are returning ; they seem in great spirits, but I am afraid it was ill-judged to bring their companions back with them. Let me entreat, Sir Hugh, that you will not damp their mirth by too severe a reprimand.”

“ Humph ! and much they’d mind it, if I did. I’ve been left by myself half the day, and now they are coming back with this cursed hullabaloo to deafen me and fill me with 2

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spleen, over the mad antics in which I can no longer join. Yes, times are changed, sadly changed, with me.”

The soft eyes compassionately regarded him.

11 1 would have borne you company, if I had not had reason to suppose you preferred being alone. When I came you requested me to leave you to your own thoughts.”

“ Ordered you, you should say — yes, I am a brute — I know I am ; but my infernal temper is always getting the better of me. This morning I was in one of my savage moods, but now I feel more human. The wine the doctor permitted me to take has brightened me up a little. With such tipple as this I feel as if there is still something worth living for.”

The lady glanced toward the empty bottle, and said in a tone of surprise :

“ You surely have not ventured to drink a whole bottle, Sir Hugh ? ”

“ Zounds, madam, what is that trifle to a six bottle man ? a mere drop — a mere nothing. Would you have me such a milk-sop as to leave the beaker undrained ! Yes, I drank it all, and I think I should like more.”

“ But the doctor said ”

A volley of oaths burst from the choleric old man, and he exclaimed :

“ The doctor and his drugs may go to the dogs. I’ve found out that they are worth nothing. Why don’t he set me on my feet if he has any skill ? Here I’ve been nearly helpless for three weeks, and he has done nothing to help me, till he had sense enough to say I might take a taste of this life-elixir.”

Mrs. Methurn said nothing more, but she looked apprehensively upon his flushed features, and thought with silent dread upon another seizure as dangerous as the one from which he was just recovering ; for Sir Hugh was the most intractable of patients, and tlie most unmanageable of convalescents.

In the meantime the May-day group approached the house, the musicians playing a lively air, with which the voices of the young people mingled in a roundelay suited to the occasion. They seemed to have improvised a festival for themselves at the close of the one in which they had just participated ; for the rustic queen of the day walked in the rear, and in front was borne a wicker chair, over which a canopy, adorned with flowers, was erected.

Beneath this was seated a child of slender proportions, her white robe wreathed with flowers, and her long amber locks flowing beneath a crown of the same. Her complexion was delicately fair, with eyes of deep violet blue, with long, dark lashes curling upward. There was an expression of extreme refinement in her charming face, and in her small hand she bore a sceptre adorned with roses.

When her two bearers, Yernor and Gerald, placed her chair in front of the door, she sprang lightly from it, and bounding toward Sir Hugh, kneeled before him, and placed her crown and sceptre at his feet, as she said :

(( The May Queen deputes me to offer her homage to the lord of the manor, and pray from him the liberty to tread a measure in the ancient hall of his fathers.”

« Ho ! Lady-Bird, that speech smacks of my scholarly nephew, for you would never have made it of yourself. What ! dance in this old place? We’ve not trod a measure here since my lady died, but that is now many a year ago. My dancing days are over, but Yernor no doubt thinks his day has come. Well, well, young folks, since you’ve all come with the hope of having a reel, I’ll not be bear enough to balk you. Come in, place yourselves, and let me see how you can perform.”

“ Thank you, dear, good Sir Hugh ! I knew you would

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consent,” exclaimed the little girl, starting up and clapping her hands. “ Now, Gerald, let us take our places.”

Yernor stepped forward, and with a flashing glance said:

“ To the heir belongs the hand of the fairy-queen. Come Ethel, let me lead you to the head of the reel.”

She drew back, and with an air of childish command, said :

“ I am but the queen’s deputy ; there stands the one to whom your courtesy is due,” making a gesture toward a young girl of sixteen, who stood blushing and expectant of this honor.

Yernor imperiously replied :

“ Gerald may do the honors there. You are to dance with me ; I choose it to be so, and that is enough.”

He seized her hand and drew her toward the further end of the hall, saying to his cousin as he passed him :

(( Take out the rustic queen, Gerald, I prefer her deputy.”

A faint flush crossed the olive cheek of the youth, but he was too much accustomed to the overbearing spirit of his cousin to be surprised at the command. He bowed courteously and approached the young girl, who looked resentfully after the young heir and his unwilling companion. But her brow cleared, and the smile returned to her lips as she listened to the request of Gerald to become his partner. She gave him her hand and, with an arch expression said:

“ If. Mr. Yernor had only known what a Gipsy told me yesterday afternoon he would never have put this slight upon me.”

" So — you have dealings with gipsies, Miss Kate Conway. What would your father say to that, I wonder ? ”

“ He’d scold me and keep me from walking in the roads, I suppose ; but don’t you want to hear what she said, for now it concerns you.”

“ Indeed ! pray let me hear it then.”

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u The queen of the tribe told me that the one with whom I should first dance on this evening would be crowned with good fortune.”

Gerald laughed gaily.

“Of course — since I have the honor to dance with you — that was all the prophet meant.”

“ Oh, no — by no means — for she went on to say that after many trials and difficulties you would win all you desire.”

u It will be brave news for my mother that her darling boy is to become a favorite of fortune ; but, unluckily, Gipsies’ prophecies rarely meet with fulfilment. I am afraid that in this instance there is little prospect of their being realized.”

“ But I tell you this was the queen of the tribe — an old woman known far and wide for her skill in fortune telling ; and I am glad, Master Gerald, that you are the person she referred to, for you are good as well as brave. I have not forgotten the time you dragged my brother from the fishpond at the risk of your own life.”

Gerald blushed slightly at this praise. He said :

“ I only acted from an impulse of humanity. I could not see a lad drown when I knew how to swim, and my own life was not in the slightest danger, 1 assure you.”

“ Others thought differently, sir. But the music strikes up, and it is time for us to gain our places.”

Fifteen couples stood up in a country-dance, at the head of which were the two cousins with their partners. Ethel flitted through the mazes of the reel with the light and airy grace which distinguished her, and Sir Hugh watched her with an emotion almost of pleasure. He contrasted her with the rosy and rustic beauties from the village, and said to Mrs. Methurn :

“ See how our Lady Bird puts all the rest to shame ; she

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might some day make a figure at court, if that old curmudgeon of a grandfather would do his duty by her.”

“ Then we should lose our darling,” said the lady, with a pensive smile. “ Neither should I be willing to know that my pure-hearted child was exposed to the temptations of such a court as that which is now found at Whitehall.”

“ Zounds ! Madam, you talk like a simpleton. The king is the most polite of men ; he does not love long faces, and he does love youth and beauty. Life away from the court is but vegetating. I have sunned myself in royal favor, and I know what it is worth. If my acres had not so dreadfully dwindled away, I would take our young people to London and see what would come of it.”