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Sharing Her Crime: A Novel. May Agnes Fleming
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Автор произведения May Agnes Fleming
Жанр Зарубежная классика
Издательство Public Domain
While Gipsy was standing as quietly as her fidgety nature would allow, to have her hair curled, Mrs. Gower entered.
"Well, 'Rora, my dear, where are you going this morning, that you are dressing in your best?" said Mrs. Gower, glancing at the gay purple riding-habit – for dress was a thing Gipsy seldom troubled herself about.
"Why, aunty, where would I be going; over to Spider's, of course."
"Oh, Gipsy, my dear, pray don't think of such a thing!" exclaimed the good woman, in a tone of alarm. "Your guardian will be dreadfully angry."
"Lor! aunty, I know that; there wouldn't be any fun in it if he wasn't," replied the elf.
"Oh, Aurora, child! you don't know what you're doing. Consider all he has done for you, and how ungrateful it is of you to disobey him in this manner. Now, he has set his heart on keeping you from Deep Dale (you know he never liked the doctor nor his family), and he will be terribly, frightfully angry if he finds you have disobeyed him. Ride over the hills, go out sailing or shooting, but do not go there."
Gipsy, who had been yawning fearfully during this address, now jerked herself away from Totty, and replied, impatiently:
"Well, let him get frightfully angry; I'll get 'frightfully angry' too, and so there will be a pair of us. Do you s'pose I'd miss seeing that dear, sweet, little girl again, just because Guardy will stamp, and fume, and roar, and scare all mankind into fits? Not I, indeed. Let him come on, who's afraid," and Gipsy threw herself into a stage attitude, and shouted the words in a voice that was quite imposing, coming as it did from so small a body.
"Oh, Gipsy, child! consider," again began Mrs. Gower.
"Oh, aunty, dear! I won't consider, never did; don't agree with my constitution, no how you can fix it. Archie told me one day when I was doing something he considered a crazy trick, to 'consider.' Well, for his sake, I tried to, and before ten minutes, aunty, I felt symptoms of falling into a decline. There now!"
"Oh, my dear! my dear! you are incorrigible," sighed Mrs. Gower; "but what would you do if your guardian some day turned you out of doors? You have no claim on him, and he might do it, you know, in a fit of anger."
"If he did" – exclaimed Gipsy, springing up with flashing eyes.
"Well, and if he did, what would you do?"
"Why, I'd defy him to his face, and then I'd run off, and go to sea, and make my fortune, and come back, and marry you – no, I couldn't do that, but I'd marry Archie. Lor! I'd get along splendidly."
"Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy! rightly named Gipsy! how little you know what it is to be friendless in the world, you poor little fairy you! Now, child, be quiet, and talk sensibly to me for a few minutes."
"Oh, bother, aunty! I can't be quiet; and as to talking sensibly, why I rather think I am doing that just now. There, now – now do, please, bottle up that lecture you've got for me, and it'll keep, for I'm off!" And darting past them, she ran down stairs, through the long hall, and was flying toward the stables in a twinkling.
On her way she met our old friend, Jupiter.
"Hallo, Jupe! Oh, there you are! Go and saddle Mignonne 'mediately. I want him; quick, now!"
"Why, Miss Roarer, honey, I'se sorry for ter diserblige yer, chile, but ole mas'r he tole me not to let yer get Minnin to-day," said Jupiter, looking rather uneasily at the dark, wild, little face, and large, lustrous eyes, in which a storm was fast brewing.
"Do you mean to say he told you not to let me have my pony?" she said, or rather hissed, through her tightly-clenched teeth.
"Jes' so, Miss Roarer; he tell me so not ten minutes ago."
"Now, Jupiter, look here; you go right off and saddle Mignonne, or it'll be the worse for you. D'ye hear?"
"Miss Roarer, I 'clare for't I dassent. Mas'r'll half kill me."
"And I'll whole kill you if you don't," said Gipsy, with a wild flash of her black eyes, as she sprang lightly on a high stone bench, and raised her riding-whip over the head of the trembling darkey; "go, sir; go right off and do as I tell you!"
"Laws! I can't – 'deed chile! I can't – "
Whack! whack! whack! with no gentle hand went the whip across his shoulders, interrupting his apology.
"There, you black rascal! will you dare to disobey your mistress again!" Whack! whack! whack!" If you don't bring Mignonne out this minute, I'll shoot you dead as a mackerel! There; does that argument overcome your scruples?" whack! whack! whack!
With something between a yell and a howl, poor Jupiter sprung back, and commenced rubbing his afflicted back.
"Will you go?" demanded Gipsy, raising her whip once more.
"Yes! yes! Who ever did see such a 'bolical little limb as dat ar. Ole mas'r'll kill me, I knows he will," whimpered poor Jupiter as he slunk away to the stables, closely followed by his vixenish little mistress, still poising the dangerous whip.
Mignonne, a small, black, fleet-footed, spirited Arabian, was led forth, pawing the ground and tossing his head, as impatient to be off, even, as his young mistress.
"That's right, Jupe," said Gipsy, as she sprang into the saddle and gathered up the reins; "but mind, for the future, never dare to disobey me, no matter what anybody says. Mind, if you do, look out for a pistol-ball, some night, through your head."
Jupiter, who had not the slightest doubt but what the mad-headed little witch would do it as soon as not, began whimpering like a whipped schoolboy. Between the Scylla of his master's wrath, and the Charybdis of his willful little mistress, poor Jupiter knew not which way to steer.
"Don't cry, Jupe – there's a good fellow," said Gipsy, touched by his distress. "Keep out of your master's sight till I come back, and I'll take all the blame upon myself. There, now – off we go, Mignonne!"
And waving her plumed hat above her head, with a shout of triumphant defiance as she passed the house, Gipsy went galloping down the road like a flash.
The sky, which all the morning had looked threatening, was rapidly growing darker and darker. About half an hour after the departure of Gipsy, the storm burst upon them in full fury. The wind howled fiercely through the forest, the rain fell in torrents, the lightning flashed in one continued sheet of blue electric flame, the thunder crashed peal upon peal, until heaven and earth seemed rending asunder.
The frightened inmates of Sunset Hall were huddled together, shivering with fear. The doors and windows were closed fast, and the servants, gray with terror, were cowering in alarm down in the kitchen.
"Lor' have massy 'pon us! who ever seed sich lightnin'? 'Pears as though all de worl' was 'luminated, and de las' day come!" said Jupiter, his teeth chattering with terror.
"An' Miss Roarer, she's out in all de storm, an' ole mas'r don't know it," said Totty. "She would go, spite of all Missus Scour said. I 'clare to man, that dat ar rampin', tarryfyin' little limb's 'nuff to drive one clar 'stracted. I ain't no peace night nor day 'long o' her capers. Dar!"
"Won't we cotch it when mas'r finds out she's gone," said a cunning-looking, curly-headed little darkey, whom Gipsy had nicknamed Bob-o-link, with something like a chuckle; "good Lor! jes' see ole mas'r a swearin' an' tearin' round', an' kickin' de dogs an' niggers, an' smashin' de res' ob de furnitur'. Oh, Lor!" And evidently overcome by the ludicrous scene which fancy had conjured up, Bob-o-link threw himself back, and went off into a perfect convulsion of laughter, to the horror of the rest.
While this discussion was going on below stairs, a far different scene was enacting above.
At the first burst of the storm, Lizzie and Mrs. Gower hastened in affright to the parlor, where the squire was peacefully snoring in his arm-chair, and Louis was still finishing his sketch.
The noise and bustle of their entrance aroused the squire from his slumbers, and after sundry short snorts he woke up,