The Penn's Grove record., 1888-09-15

you at this hour last nightf" she asked.
"On the veranda." be answered.
"Why, Berta?"
"He was with one to whom his
heart has wandered, at this hour last
night" the gypsy had told her.
"Would you hold him to a regretted
promise? 1t chafed him terribly as he
watbed the moonbeams on that others
golden hair. All, it is writteni you
will set him free, and soon."
Were you alone?" she questioned,
softly.
"No; Eleanor was with me. We
were talking of you."
Eleanor"
Why had she not known that this
fair-faced cousin would win him from
her-the lover who had seemed so truly
her own-who, since he, an orphan of
fourteen. had been accepted as ward by
her father, had seemed to love her?
And now had come Eleanor. with
her stately grace and Eur eyes, to
shatter her beautiful love-dreaml
With steady fingers she drew of a
ring that had not left her hand in a
year.
"Give this to my c~ousin.-to Flea
nOTI' she Sdiu, u~lSJlucIIy.
And Kenneth Duncan would not
have been more surprised had the earth
yawned at his feet.
SIN heavens name, what makes you
ding my love back in my face like
thatP" he cried. "What is your cousin
to mep What is any woman save your
self Berta, my dearest, what does
this mean?"
But now they had left the gypsy
camp behind them, and were nearing a
stile, which they must cross before they
found themselves in Mr.. Howell's prl-
vate grounds. and IN that stile sat
Eleanor, awaiting them, a beautiful
vision of serene maidenhood, with
clouds of white lace envelOping her
shoulders and lying softly on her yell
low hair.
AS Berta looked, the German legends
came in with bitterness into her minds;
and she remembered the beautiful,
soulless things who won men to mad
ness, cold and uncarlng; but she gave
Kenneth's question no answer.
Eleanor, az the trio walked on to the
house, understood what was written on
the two pale faces, aud was triumph
ant.
A week went by, and those seven
days had almost driven poor Kenneth
mad. Berta would explain nothing,
answer nothing to his pleadings but a
sad. You are free; why do you not.
go to Eleanor?'
And at last, because she had stung
him into obeying her, he did go to
Eleanor.
1t was Just one week from the day
en- which Eleanor had visited the
camp. that he asked her to become his
wife and she accepted him; and almost
in the same hour Mr.. Howell having
heard that a malignant fever was
among the gipsies, sent his servants to
order them from his land.
But the dark-browed wanderers re-
fused to go. saying the fever was not
a contagious disease, and the sick could
not be moved.
81 will show them who is wner to-
morrow" the old gentleman said,
angrily, when told.
And then he went to dinner, saying
nothing of the matter to the young
people.
After dinner, they gathered on the
veranda to watch h moon rise; and
Eleanor, being III a merry mood, play
fully sang a weird incarnation to Luna,
Kenneth standing sullen and silent
beside her.
How very lovely she looked, in her
triumphant blonde beauty. clad in
palest of azure, with her white hands
lifted. the melody on her lipsl
Berta turned her eyes from the fair
vision, with a low sigh.
GLOW can | blame him for loving
her?" she whispered, YEARLY.
Then q dark, majestic figure entered
at a distant gate, and went hurrIedly
toward the group on the veranda. The
rising moon showed full outlines,
heavy, unbound hair, black as dark
ness, great, flashing, dusky eyes. as the
woman went up the steps. and paused
before Eleanor.
With the song unfinished on her
blanching lips, the girl recognized
Gypsy Madge.
"And it is thus you keep faith with
mel" the woman cried, scornfully.
"You promised me freedom from mo
lestation If | would tell a lie for you to
"a credulous girl. | told the lie, and
now my people are ordered from your
uncle's land like dogsl"
Mr.. Howell stepped forward, his
face very stern.
''If you are one OF the gipsies who
have had the audacity 20 camp almost
at my door, on my land, what do you
want herep l understand there is a
child among you, i'll of Il malignant
fever. l cannot allow you to bring
disease and cuntagion i'll our midst, and
il you are not gone by noon to-mor-
row, you will learn something Of a
tresspass-law."
Send her away at once, unclel"
Eleanor cried, clingiug to his arm.
"Pray send her away; she frighteus
mel"
The woman laughed m~ockingly.
"You did not fear me when you
thought to make a tool OF mel" she
said, bitterly.
Then size went to where Berta was
standing, somewhat apart.
~ deceived you, lady," h said,
with a certain half-savage dignity in
face and voice. 81 told you to free a
man who, bound to you, loved another.
l babe you ask him with whom he had
stood in the moonlight at a certain
hour OF the night before, if you would
learn that others name. And you
grew white with pain, but trusted me,
and did as | babe you; and your heart
is very heavy tonight, because you
think yourself unloved; is it not SOP"
Berta, with hot tears in her eyes,
turned from her, but Madge followed.
"He is true to you; he loves you
welll'' she said, eagerly. Gould you
not see? But she," with a gesture
toward Eleanor, who was quivering and
ashen under Kenneth's scathing
g~lance-''she bribed me to make you
. doubt him. She babe me make you test
him as l didl She wanted your loyerl''
"Kennethi''
1t was a low. questioning cry, but
the young man sprang toward her In
answer to it, and caught her extended
hands.
"Then it was not because you had
| ceased to love me?" he asked.
Aud she answered:
at was because | thought you had