Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1903-05-02
CHAPTER I.
WARNINGS OF DANGER.

Ii was some three days yet to Christ
mas. but already there was promise of
a GOOD old-fashioned Yuletide; snow had
already begun to sprinkle tree and
hedgerow, and in the glow of the rapidly
approaching sunset broad belt of blood
red light quivered on the frosty grass of
the fields over yonder by Felstead woods.
On the trees behind the gypsy cara
vans the wintry sunshine cast rainbow
tints of infinite beauty, and the whole
scene was such as 70 delight the eye of
an artist--the gypsy men standing about
busy with their horses, the women pre-
pairing the evening meal in the primitive
style.
One couple we're standing apart-a
young girl about IL, and young man
s wears her senior.
Both were handsome, far beyond the
others in looks and manner. The girl
was of exquisite form and feature, with
the beauty and grace of Spaniard;
while her companion was quite evidently
not of the gypsy type, though his name
Reuben Cooper-stamped him as be-
longing to one of the best known tribes.
His eyes were dark, but his hair was
of a rudy brown, not black like that of
the gypsy beauty beside him. The look
in the latter's beautiful eyes was one of
devotion, as they glanced up at the
handsome fellow near her. But his had
no love in them.
He was scanning with restless anxiety
the winding road that led across the
common to Meybridge.
Reuben" cried the young girl, while
unshed tears swan into her eyes, and
her bosom heaved with sudden emotion,
''you are not listening 10 me. You keep
gazing along the road to Meybridge 1
know why-I know for whom you are
waiting. And yet you won't take my
warning!"
Cora" he said gently, 81 have never
disguised my feelings. 1 know why l am
watching anxiously, and shall watch
anxiously, until the treasure L seek is
mine. Were there any truth in your
gypsy traditions-were there any mean
ing in your gypsy prophesies and arts,
you would know what l mean. But you
do not; you cannot, except from my
lips"
81 know more than you think" said
Cora; "but it does not matter. I have
warned you, and YOU have scorned my
words. I can do no more"
During this short conversation third
person had approached the spot-a DARK,
sinister fellow about 80, who wore his
rough clothes with jaunty air and was
apparently of Spanish type, like Cora.
He knew better than to come within
listening distance of Reuben Cooper.
Reuben, in fact, was the only one in
the whole camp whom he feared.
But he scowled from afar; and if looks
could have killed. then Cora ought to
have died on the moment. But she cast
glance at him of mingled hatred and
mockery; and before he had time to re-
sent it, something occurred to distract
their attention.
A muff1ed thtId of horses hoofs came
from the road where it wound round to
the far edge of Felstead woods; and then
amid the snow, which had begun to fall
in feathery flakes as the sun began to
set, appeared a gay cavalcade, riding
their horses as to the manner born.
First came the Squire, Sir George
Fernleigh, accompanied by his nephew
Dick; then Ernest Walton-also his
nephew on his sisters side-and then
Gladys Fernleigh, his adopted daughter.
He had no child of his own; the one son
who had been born to him was lost amid
the memories of the past.
AS the four came by, Reuben Cooper
removed his hat with a graceful gesture:
but it was not to the party in general
that he made the salute. His eyes were
fixed on Gladys Fernleigh, who, without
being observed by her companions, gent
ly waved her handkerchief twice. It was
a premeditated act-a signal between
the two, for she had taken it from her
bosom as she approached the spot, and
had drawn her horse slightly back SO
that her cousin Ernest should not OBJ
serve her action.
As the genial Squire and his nephew
Dick saw Reuben raise his hat, and the
gypsies followed suit, they raised their
hats also. But Dicks act of courtesy
was directed towards Cora, and the
young girl guessed it with throb of the
bosom She knew that he loved her, and
hopelessly too; for was not her heart
given long since to Reuben Cooper?
What makes you take your hat off
to such scum, uncle ?" asked Ernest Wal
ton as they turned into the Manor
gates.
There is no one whom call scum -
said the Squire; "they are human beings,
and it is Christmas time"
"a gentleman, every inch of him." was
Reuben's comment as the Squire passed
out of sight. Richard Fernleigh is a
good man, but his uncle is all that man
could wish"
and Ernest Walton?" said Cora.
He is not worth the breath you
waste in speaking his name," said Reu-
ben. Good night, Cora. l am not going
to stop for supper. I have somewhere
to 60"
She laid OBTAINING hand upon his
arm.
Not there! Not therel" she said, and
by quiet but unmistakable gesture.
she indicated the Manor.
Reuben colored slightly, and drew
away.
Why should you think 1 am going
there!" he cried, almost petulantly;
and why should you ask me? You
make me angry, Cora, at times, and we
are such old friends. Goodnight"
Goodnight, Reuben, and may my
dreams prove the foolish things you
think them" she answered.
She stood quite still watching him as