Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1893-03-25
CHAPTER III.
A BITTER RARGAIN.

Ii was barely daylight when Vida wrap
ped In a fur-lined cloak, came down into
the hall, where some of the lower domestics
were engaged IN dusting and cleaning.
She glanced from one 10 the other quickly,
and singing out strong brownfaced coun-
tTy lass. asked x saa ca;;l5 take I; message
for her.
IF you please. miss replied the girl,
courtesying.
Then tell Phoebe that am going out for
a walk" said Vida, through the village,
and il Miss Moore Is coming out she had bet
ter take tho road past the old mill."
Yes, miss"
Il must have no bungling," Vida mutter-
ed. as she ventured out, mo chance inter
niption. And now for my gpsy-lover-my
dark-eyed audacious scoundrel of the tents,
who has honored me with confession in
looks lie dared not put In words
Among other amiable qualities which dis
tingushed Mr.. Moore, he was very tolerant
with noinadic people, and his estate was
yeritable happy hunting-ground for the
gipsies.
There was always one or more of their
camps pitched In some sequestered spot in
the woods, and Just then there was a body of
them known as 'Hecate's tribe" located in
the Bluebell Dell.
At the head of them was an old woman
who claimed TO have enjoyed hundred
years existence, and was probably near that
age, and abe was the Hecate from which the
tribe took its name.
Several men with wives, well on In years,
were her sons, and their children In turn
had married, and had sous and daughters,
and there was a fourth generation Of little
ones.
One Of the elder men, the youngest son OF
Hecate. was known as Jim the Snowman,
he having by industry and thrift arrived at
the dignity Of possessing trayeling-van.
He was man about Mr. Moore's age, and
he had wife, who, in her style. was as
handsome as Mrs. Moore, with the same ad-
vantage Of lingering youth in appearance.
These two were the aristocratic portion
OF the tribe, and the objects OF Hecate's un-
bounded love.
MY darling Jim and Sablna," she called
them.
There had been darling younger daugh-
ter once, but she had lain for score years
or more under the greensward fifty miles
away. Her story was sad one.
She had given her heart 10 "house-dwell-
err" man of rank and wealth who had
wooed her selfshly and left her basely.
When he had been gone six months lit
tie baby came into the world, and his moth
er called him Bardolph.
She died, and he became old Hecate's
care. The old woman dotted on him, and he
grew up to handsome manhood.
Ere this, however, he had wheedied out
Of the old gypsy the story Of his birth, and
he boldly took upon himself his fathers
name.
While Randolph Dlmsey wasted his sub
stance in riotous living among the rich and
son. developed into the scapegrace OF the
Hecate tribe.
He was daring boy and reckless man,
but he had done nothing more daring than
his falling In love with Vida Moore. and let
ting her know by his looks that he admired
her.
He had done as much when she with Ruth
had visited the camp, and she. womanlike.
had read his face, but her pride would not
allow her to resent II.
She simply ignored him as IL he had been
adog.
He felt the sting Of her contempt, and fed
his passion by brooding. lie took TO haunt
ing her favorite resorts, but never dared to
speak TO her. At last she had learnt to look
upon his andaeious love with amusement.
But now it suddenly occurred to her that
he was man who might be made useful, and
her object In going out early In the morning
was to meet him and mould him to her will.
Experience told her that he was watching
f"r her coming. and ere she had trayersed
the shrubbery she heard rustiing Denind
her that revealed his presence. She did not
20 TO the village, but bent her way TO an ad
Joining wood, and entered II BY narrow
path.
Suddenly she faced about.
He was within few yards OF her, and
had no time to hide even II he desired tn
escape detection. He met her gaze with
mingled audaciry and abashed humility.
This is not the first time you have dog
ged my footsteps" she said.
mo. my lady," he answered In q low
tone, 1T isn't"
"What do you mean by it?' she asked.
"IIow dare you subject me to such an Inn.
pertinence?"
my lady, said he, drawing deep breath,
sis It impertinence for your dog to follow
your
Mo-
''rhen ask no more than to be your dog -
There must bc an end to this folly" said
Vida. III my uncle tolerates YOU gipsies--"
my lady interposed Bardolph, drawing
himself up Il am not sipsy.v
what arc you thenT'
Randolph Dimssy is my father"
The cold contempt In Vida's eyes made
him shiver. and he was - abject a. . dog
indeed With his hands clasped together,
and his head hanging . little, he waited for
her 10 speak.
"You need not tell your mothers wretch
cd story 10 me- ske said, ~ havo nothing
to do with 1t. I ask you why you follow
meS'
II were to tell you. know whatwoald
happen," he sald.
what y thats'
'1sheald - vhippsdoii The Gordoufslls"