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 https://archive.org/details/gipsymotherormis00lown_0 
 
THIl 
 
 IPSY MOTHER 
 
 OR THE 
 
 MISERIES OF ENFORCED MARRIAGE: 
 
 
 I will tell thee 
 
 Such strange occurrents of iny fore-past life. 
 
 That all thy young-sprung griefs shall seem but sparks 
 To the great fire of my calamities. — Old Play. 
 
 BY HANNAH MARIA JONES, 
 
 AUTHORESS OF EMILY MORELAND, ROSALINE WOODBRIDOF4, SCOTTISH 
 CHIEFTAINS, 81c. 8cc. 
 
 ILonlron: 
 
 Printed by C. BAYNES, 13 , Date Street, Ltncoln'ti Inn Fleldi; 
 
 PUBLISHED BY VIRTUE, TALLIS, AND Co. 
 
 2 , NORTHAMPTON SQUARE. 
 

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 DEDICATION. 
 
 ®o ^tx mogal 
 
 PRINCESS ALEXANDRIA VICTORIA. 
 
 
 To her whose image is enshrined in tlie heai^ 
 of every Englishwoman — to whose august example 
 the rising generation of her own sex are tanglil 
 to look for the illustration of every feminine 
 virtue — to her whose well-being and well-doing 
 is the interest and pride of every Englishman, and 
 to whose future career they are taught to look for 
 England’s happiness and glory — to the Princess 
 Victoria— these pages are dedicated, by one who 
 feels top sensibly her own insignificance, and the 
 comparatively trifling importance of her labours, 
 to venture to address Her Royal Highness — but 
 who yet humbly hopes, by this public testimonial 
 of respect and gratitude for the benefits conferred 
 on the English nation in general, and in particular 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 5v 
 
 the female part of it, to add ^yeight and considera- 
 tion to a work, which has little more to boast than 
 that it may afford amusement for an idle hour. 
 
 For its morals or its motives the authoress need 
 offer no pledge — the most depraved would not 
 dare to affix a name so pure, so hallowed as that 
 of Her Royal Highness the Princess Victoria, to 
 aught that could tend to debase or injure the sacred 
 cause of truth and virtue. For its defects (if any) 
 as a work of entertainment, only one excuse is 
 offered — namely, that it has been written under 
 circumstances of perhaps unexampled suffering 
 and difficulty. To many persons ^this will 
 probably be considered a very inefficient plea; 
 but it affords the strongest reason for endeavour- 
 ing to shield it under the name of that royal and 
 august personage, to whom sorrow and distress 
 never yet pleaded in vain, and to whom, there- 
 fore, with unfeigned admiration of her talents and 
 virtues, “ The Gipsy Mother” is dedicated, by 
 Her Royal Highness’s 
 
 Most respectful servant, 
 
 The Authoress. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 CHAPTr:R I. 
 
 FoiiT whisperings are abroad. Unnatural deeds 
 Do bring unnatural troubles. Infected minds 
 To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. 
 
 Sharks PE ARE. 
 
 ""I HE last carriag'e had departed from the door of the 
 Opera House — the few pedestrians, who had lingered at 
 that late- hour to gaze at the gay votaries of pleasure, 
 were dispersing on their different routes — and the gray 
 morning was already heginning to dim the lustre of the 
 lamps, when two young men of fashionable appearance', 
 engaged in earnest conversation, sauntered slowly dov/ii 
 the colonnade. 
 
 ‘‘The hour is suitable enough!” observed Mr. Le- 
 vison, the elder of the two; “but, certainly, the place 
 appears to be strangely chosen, for the development of a 
 tale of mystery; and I cannot yet relinquish my opinion 
 that some imposition was intended to be practised, whicli 
 might have been attended with serious consequences; 
 and that you would have been very foolish to have come 
 alone, as was your first intention.” 
 
 “I am almost sorry I did not, though,” returned the 
 
6 
 
 THE (JIPSY MOTIIEU. 
 
 younger; ‘‘for I suspect that 'your presence has been the 
 means of preventing* me from receiving* the promised 
 communication . ” 
 
 “ Why do you think so?” demanded Levison; “have 
 you seen ” 
 
 Montgomery, tvhich was the name of the other speaker, 
 pressed his arm, as an intimation for him to remain silent, 
 and, by an inclination of his head, directed his friend’s 
 attention to a man of ordinary appearance, wlio was 
 standing* in the shade of one of the doors, as if awaiting* 
 tlieir approach; but, before they came near enough to 
 distinguish his features, he suddenly darted between tlie 
 pillars, and crossing the street, was soon out of their 
 sight. 
 
 Montgomery’s first impulse was to follow him — but 
 Levison forcibly held his arm. 
 
 “ Are you mad, Denzil?” he exclaimed; “ that fellow 
 has the very look of a thief! He would decoy you into 
 some of the infamous houses that abound in the courts 
 and alleys in the direction he has taken, and your life 
 would perhaps be sacrificed to your foolish curiosity.” 
 
 Montgomery did not reply, but he silently repented 
 having made his cautious friend the confidant of his noc- 
 turnal appointment; and they took another turn down 
 the colonnade, Montgomery still keeping silence. 
 
 “ If you are convinced that this ill-looking fellow was 
 the person you expected to meet, we may as well go 
 home,” observed Levison. “ Should my uncle discover 
 that we are out, at this time of the morning, we shall 
 liave a fine lecture when we meet at breakfast to-morrow, 
 or rather, this morning.” 
 
 Montgomery cast a scrutinising* look around, but no 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 '7 
 
 person was visible except the watchman, who had two 
 or three times held up his lantern, to take a survey of 
 their persons as they passed him, and most reluctantly he 
 was compelled to accede to his friend’s proposal. 
 
 They turned down Pall Mall, their residence being in 
 St. James’s Place; and as they proceeded, Levison again 
 recurred to the promised communication which had 
 brought them thither. 
 
 “ I can tell you no more than I before told you,” ob- 
 served Montgomery. “I was just going to knock at 
 your uncle’s door, in the dusk of the evening’, when a 
 man, wrapped in an old surtout — in fact, the very man 
 you saw just now — approached me. I had seen liim 
 loitering about the house, as I came up the street, and I 
 now turned round, thinking' that he was either going to 
 beg, or to make some inquiry of me. His manner, how- 
 ever, had nothing of the humility which might have been 
 expected from the meanness of his appearance. 
 
 “ ‘May I request you to tell me your name?’ he said, 
 in a low but deep tone. 
 
 “ I know not why it was, but my heart seemed to 
 thrill as he spoke. I recollected, however, your uncle’s 
 frequent cautions against the impositions practised upon 
 novices in London, and 1 replied, with some asperity, 
 
 “ ‘ It is an odd request from a stranger — I must 
 first know what are your motives for the demand.’ 
 
 “ ‘ It is of little consequence, perhaps, that you should 
 answer,’ he replied; ‘for I suspect I am quite as well 
 informed as yourself on the subject. You are called 
 Denzil Montgomery, are you not?’ 
 
 “ I was startled at the tone and manner in Avhich this 
 was uttered. I might say, it was expressive of contempt — 
 
8 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHEIl. 
 
 but it was more than contempt — indeed, I cannot de- 
 scribe it — and, with a feeling somewhat approaching to 
 alarm, I laid hold of the knocker, but was prevented in 
 my intention by his seizing my arm with a powerful 
 grasp. 
 
 “ ‘Stop, young man,’ he observed; ‘I have no hostile 
 intention tow^ards you; on the contrary, I seek nothing 
 but your good. I am about to quit England for ever — 
 in short, it was to serve you, that I was induced to re- 
 visit this hateful country, after an absence of eighteen 
 years. Do not, then, render ray purpose abortive by 
 your foolish fears! Vvhll you meet me, and hear what I 
 have to say to you?’ 
 
 “ The dread of imposition vanished from my mind — 
 there was something in his stern manner that defied sus- 
 picion, and I unhesitatingly replied — 
 
 “ ‘ I will meet you, when and where you please !’ 
 
 “ He put his hand to his forehead, as if considering, 
 and after a short pause observed — 
 
 “ ‘ It must be to-night, for I leave London at day- 
 break, to-morrow.’ 
 
 “ ‘ Why not now, then ? — I am ready to accompany 
 you, wherever you please,’ I replied. 
 
 “ ‘ No — at this time another duty engages me, that 
 cannot be postponed — but whither do your engagements 
 lead you this evening?’ 
 
 “ Until this moment I had forgotten those who were 
 probably expecting me impatiently to join them in our 
 proposed pleasurable party to the Opera, as well as the 
 delight which I had anticipated from the evening’s 
 amusement — but his question recalled all to my recol- 
 lection, and I replied — 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ ‘ I am going to the Opera with some friends, and as 
 it is the first time either they or I have been there, I 
 know not well how I can break my engagement.’ 
 
 “ ‘ But you can easily slip away, after tlie Opera has 
 concluded; and that is as good a place as I can appoint, 
 as it is about half way between your home and my tem- 
 porary residence. I will be there when the company 
 come out, and you can then join me — but as I shall in all 
 probability detain you some hours, it will be useless to 
 keep your friends waiting for you — you must therefore 
 contrive to come unobserved; and a gay young man like 
 you can easily frame an excuse in the morning for your 
 absence.’ 
 
 ‘ You are mistaken, friend,’ I observed, rather 
 angrily, for I did not like the manner in which he uttered 
 the last sentence, ‘ my absence for a night is not a matter 
 of so little importance to my friends, or so easily ex- 
 cused, as you imagine; and if your communication is not 
 of sufficient consequence to excuse it ’ 
 
 “ ‘ You will judge of that, when you hear it,’ he ob- 
 served, interrupting me hastily; ‘but I am glad to hear 
 that yowv friends are so attentive to your moral conduct 
 — that is something in their favour.’ 
 
 “ 1 had a great mind to rebuke him for his imperti- 
 nence, and to demand what he meant by the contemp- 
 tuous emphasis which he laid on the word ‘ friends ;’ but, 
 I know not how it was, I could not assume courage 
 enough, though ” 
 
 “ But I would have asked him, had I heard him,” in- 
 terrupted Levison, with indignant earnestness, “ Had I 
 been there, I would not only have asked him, but would 
 have wrung the meaning from his throat, if he had any 
 
]0 
 
 THE (HPSY MOTHER. 
 
 meaning; but 1 still adhere to my first opuiioii — he is 
 some artful impostor, who wished to take advantage of 
 your romantic disposition, to draw you into a snare; and 
 I hope, should he make a second attempt, you will not 
 suffer his imposing maimers to prevent you from acting 
 with common sense, and calling in such assistance as will 
 enable you to secure him, and deliver him into the hands 
 of justice.” 
 
 Montgomery did not reply, for he was vexed at his 
 friend Levisoffs observation respecting his disposition to 
 romance, and it did not immediately occur to him to say, 
 “ but, allowing it to be true, how should this man have 
 acquired the knowledge of it, so as to select me as a fit 
 subject to impose upon?” He did not, however, say it, 
 for he was unwilling to renew the subject with his pre- 
 judiced friend; and he was also, at this moment, occupied 
 in watching two persons who were walking slowly in 
 the shade of the houses on the opposite side, and in one 
 of whom, although he could but indistinctly see him at 
 that distance, he believed he recognised the mysterious 
 stranger, who now appeared to be accompanied by a 
 female. Without making any remark to Levison, Mont- 
 gomery kept his eyes upon them, attentively watching 
 their motions. He saw them separate — the man stood 
 still, and the woman crossed the road to the side on 
 which they were. As Montgomery anticipated, she 
 waited until they came up to her, and then, in a low 
 tone, solicited charity. 
 
 Montgomery’s heart was ever feelingly alive to the 
 miseries of his fellow creatures — such an appeal, there- 
 fore, would not have passed unheeded, had he had no 
 other motive for attending to it. He drew his purse 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ]1 
 
 from his pocket, and turned to the woman, who stood 
 close up to a door, against which she leaned, as if over- 
 come with weakness. 
 
 “You will never recollect, or, at least, never practise 
 my uncle’s lessons, Denzil,” observed Levison, relin- 
 quishing his arm. “ Mind she don’t snatch your purse,” 
 he continued in a low voice, as he walked onward alone. 
 
 Denzil made no reply, but as he drew out some silver, 
 he fixed an earnest look on the woman’s countenance. 
 The dark complexion, the raven-black tresses, and the 
 splendid large black eyes which she fixed on Montgomery, 
 returning his scrutiny with interest, together with tlie 
 singularity of her costume, gave her an air altogether so 
 foreign from what he had ever seen before, that Mont- 
 gomery would have felt interested, had he not had a per- 
 sonal motive for being so. 
 
 “What country do you belong to?” he demanded. 
 “You are not an Englishwoman, I think.” 
 
 “ I am of all countries !” she replied; “ my nation are 
 wanderers upon the face of the earth — forming commu- 
 nion with none — yet possessing power over the destinies 
 of all. I am one of those, young man, who can foretel 
 the fate of others — yet know not my own. I can tell, 
 by the aspect of those stars which are disappearing 
 before the glorious orb of day, that some evil threatens 
 you — if your good genius counteract not the spells that 
 are weaving to enthral you. You have this night thrown 
 away an opportunity — but rememlier, it is as injurious to 
 act with too great caution, as it is to be rash.” 
 
 “Will that opportunity occur again?” demanded 
 Denzil. “ You, who pretend to know all things, can 
 tell me that.” 
 
12 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHKll. 
 
 “If you can got rid of your companion, It is not CYon 
 now too late to repair the error you have committed. 
 Return here in half an hour, and you will find one who 
 can tell you things past, present, and to come. But if 
 you do not return, take this warning from me — Desist 
 from your present pursuit — shun, as your greatest misery, 
 that which you now look upon as your greatest happi- 
 ness. — In plainer terms, you must not marry her whom 
 you now love — if you do, you will incur a fearful guilt.” 
 
 The voice of Levison, calling loudly upon him to come 
 on, roused Montgomery from the state of horror and 
 surprise into which he had fallen. The Gipsy, for such 
 he supposed her to be, was gone — }'ct the sound of her 
 voice, as it deepened into an almost unearthly tone, when 
 she uttered the last words, seemed to ring in his ears: 
 and, when he joined Levison, he was for some moments 
 deaf and insensible to all that the latter addressed to him. 
 
 “ Why, what is the matter now ?” exclaimed the 
 latter. “More mysteries, Denzil? You look as if you had 
 seen a ghost, or received a summons to the other world ! 
 For heaven’s sake, do act like a rational being, and not 
 stare about you with that bewildered look. We are here 
 in London, in the middle of St. James’s Street, and sur- 
 rounded by real, substantial houses of brick and stone, 
 inhabited by beings of flesh and blood, and not in the 
 wilds of Scotland, the natural abode of fays and witches, 
 as you seem to think we are.” 
 
 “ Do not talk to me just now — I am not in the humour 
 for raillery !” exclaimed Montgomeiy. 
 
 “ What was the long tale that woman was telling 
 you?” said Levison, as they reached the door of their 
 home. “ I suspect, some lameutjiblc story, that has made a 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 13 
 
 deep impression on your tender heart; but you should 
 do as my uncle tells you — come to London with a deter- 
 mination to shut your eyes and your ears to all sights and 
 sounds of misery — believe them all to be (as ninety-nine 
 out of a hundred of them really are) merely attempts to 
 impose upon credulity.” 
 
 ‘‘ I wish I could believe that woman was an impostor — 
 yet I cannot !” said Montgomery, in an agitated tone. 
 “ Oh, no — she had some deep foundation for what she 
 uttered!” 
 
 “Good heavens ! are you serious, Denzil? Then she 
 was an emissary, perhaps, of the mysterious stranger. 
 But they have answered their purpose for the present, I 
 suppose. Come now, confess — how much did she suc- 
 ceed in extracting from your purse?” 
 
 “You are mistaken,” replied Denzil. “She did not 
 take any money from me. — I offered her some silver, but 
 she went away without taking it.” 
 
 “Art, rank cunning!” said Levison. “That was 
 intended to impress you with an opinion of her disinte- 
 restedness, and forward their future vplans.” 
 
 “ You seem to have profited well by your uncle^s 
 lessons, however,” muttered Denzil, as he followed him 
 into the house. 
 
 The servant looked at them, as he admitted them, 
 with a significant expression. 
 
 “What is the matter, James?” demanded Levison; 
 “my uncle does not know that we have been out, does he?” 
 
 “He does, indeed, sir, and he has roused the whole 
 house — Miss Rachel, and my young lady, and all!” 
 
 “ Then we shall get a pretty lecture,” said Levison; 
 “but come, we may as well face it at once — where are 
 tliey?” 
 
M 
 
 'niE (ilESV MO'I'IIEH. 
 
 ‘‘Ill the library, sir — Master has just ordered break- 
 fast.” 
 
 “Breakfast!” repeated Levison, “and we have not 
 yet been in bed; but, no matter, they will see we have 
 not been very outrageous in our vigils— so come along!” 
 
 Reluctantly, Denzil followed to the library, fie 
 foresaw that he should not now be able to return to the 
 spot where he had seen the Gipsy, within half an hour. 
 Some minutes had already been lost, by Levison’s 
 tediousness, and again he inwardly execrated his folly in 
 having communicated to him the purpose of his night’s 
 expedition, instead of going alone, as he ought to have 
 done. 
 
 The keen eye of the elder Mr. Levison surveyed them 
 from head to foot, in silence, as they entered the library. 
 Miss Rachel bridled up her tall, stately form, with more 
 than usual dignity, and Fanny Levison’s naturally bright 
 complexion deepened into a crimson glow, as her anxious 
 eye rested on Montgomery’s perturbed countenance. 
 
 “ Good morning, gentlemen,” said old Levison, 
 drily — “I did not expect to be honoured so early with 
 your company to breakfast. Fanny, my dear, ring the 
 bell, and desire James to bring more muffins — so early a 
 morning-walk, must have given the young men an 
 appetite.’’ 
 
 “ I am very sorry, sir, to have been the means of dis- 
 turbing you and the family at such an unseasonable hour,” 
 said Montgomery, who saw that, however Mr. Levison 
 disguised it, by assumed coolness, the storm was rising; 
 and, anxious to mitigate its fury, he added — “but it was 
 a singular circmnstance that called me out; a circumstance 
 that, that — in short, I cannot explain; but, I am sure, if 
 
THE CilPSY MOTHEH. 
 
 16 
 
 YOU klUHv all, you would not blamo me nor Charles, who, 
 indeed, accompanied me from a friendly motive, and — 
 and, in short ” 
 
 “You seem very likely to make short work of it, the 
 way you are getting' on, sir,” interrupted old Levison; 
 
 “ but I beg, Mr. Denzil Montgomery, you will not 
 trouble yourself with any explanations — I do not require 
 tiiern, sir. You are quite independent — quite your own 
 master, and welcome to take the shortest way to ruin, if 
 it pleases you; but, as to my nephew, Charles Levison, 
 
 I can only say, that if your friendship is more valuable 
 than mine — if he thinks he can do better by following 
 your councils than mine, why, all I can say is, that he is 
 welcome to do so — it will not grieve me, I assure you, 
 in the least — I have done my best to open your eyes 
 to the dangers of London — I came to London solely for 
 your advantage and pleasure. But I really wonder that 
 you have been so moderate — an evening at the Opera, 
 and a midnight excursion after it, are really too little, 
 too trifling, fora beginning — You should have come home 
 at eleven or twelve to-morrow, with disflgured features, 
 or perhaps a broken limb and the loss of your watches, 
 which I am rather surprised to see are still in your pos- 
 session. Your money I do not ask you about, — young 
 men cannot be supposed to enter into sucli frolics, with- 
 out Well paying for them.” 
 
 “ Our frolic^ as you call it, has been a cheap one, 1 ^ 
 assure you, uncle,” observed Charles, scarcely a])le to 
 refrain from laughing. “ I can answer for it, that I have 
 not expended one penny — and, except Denzil gave any 
 thing to a pretty beggar, who detained him with a long 
 lamentable tale at the corner of one of the streets — — ” 
 
 “ A beggar! and at this time of niglit, or rather morn- 
 
1 () 
 
 THE GIPSY MO'J'IIER. 
 
 ing'! anfl stand, too, at the corner of* a street, where you 
 might have been rushed on by four or five fellows, and 
 overpowered in a minute — you must be mad, Denzil ! 
 Did I never tell you what a narrow escape I had, when 
 I first came to London, in the year 73 — when I was as 
 near losing my life by my imprudence? I was then — let 
 me see — -just about your age — ;just nineteen — but I have 
 told you the story before, I am sure I have.” 
 
 Denzil has forgotten it, I am convinced,” said 
 Charles, (who knew that if once the old gentleman com- 
 menced one of his stories, all his resentment would sub- 
 side,) and Fanny, too, seems all curiosity to hear it.” 
 
 Fanny gave a sly glance of reproof at her mischievous 
 cousin. 
 
 “ Well, then, I will tell you — but sit down, Fanny, 
 and take your breakfast, instead of encouraging that dog 
 to be an annoyance to every body — I really wonder how 
 females, in particular, can be so partial to such dangerous 
 animals — I am sure I am always in dread lest they should 
 suddenly go mad and bite one, especially in London, 
 where, during the summer months, they are suffered to 
 rove about the streets in a dangerous manner, as I once 
 experienced, for ” 
 
 “ But you have forgotten the story you were going to 
 tell us, uncle, of your escape from the murderers,” said 
 Charles. ‘‘ A mad dog is a common, every-day occur- 
 rence, but such an adventure as yours, though it pro- 
 bably has, and may occur again ” 
 
 Not under such circumstances, Charles, not under 
 such circumstances. But I will tell you the whole, and 
 then you will judge for yourselves. It was, as 1 said, in 
 the year 73 ” 
 
 Denzil was in agonies. He looked at his watch — it 
 
 4 
 
THF GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 17 
 
 wanted but five minutes of the appointed half hour ; in 
 that five minutes he could reach the spot, but he dreaded 
 to arouse the old, gentleman’s resentment, by quitting- the 
 room at the commencement of one of his most interest- 
 ing stories, nor rouse his curiosity by avowing that he 
 wanted again to go out. 
 
 Before the story Avas half concluded, Charles Levison 
 Avas fast asleep in his chair — Miss Rachel had stolen 
 away to make the most of her early rising, by settling 
 her domestic affairs, tAvo or three hours before the usual 
 time — and Fanny Avas enjoying the freshness of the air, 
 and Avishing herself in the country again, Avhile she 
 Avatered the fcAv fioAvers in the balcony, Avhich Avere but 
 a poor substitute for the delightful gardens and shrub- 
 beries she had left behind. 
 
 Denzil, therefore, Avas the only auditor Mr. Levison 
 had left him — if he, indeed, could be called an auditor; 
 for the sounds fell senseless upon his ear, while his 
 thoughts Avere totally absorbed in the events of the last 
 feAV hours. 
 
 “So you see, my dear boy, that the most cautious may 
 be taken in,” concluded Mr. Levison, after a tedious 
 narration, in Avhich it Avas plain his Imagination had played 
 the traitor Avith him, and exaggerated a mere stratagem 
 to defraud him of a little coin, into a desperate attempt to 
 rob and murder. “I hope, therefore,” he continued, “that 
 having escaped so Avell this time, you Avill be more care- 
 ful for the future, and never let mistaken pity draAv you 
 aside for a moment, to listen to such people as Charles 
 tells me you Avere in company Avith last night ; but, I 
 declare, it is past six — it is time I took my medicine — but 
 your folly has deranged every thing, I should not be at 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 all surprised if 1 have a return of iriy old complaint, after 
 all the precautions I have taken agfainst it. Early rising-, 
 though it is pleasurable and profitable to the young, is 
 not so good for those in declining years. When I was at 
 your age, indeed ” 
 
 What is my age, sir?” said Denzil, suddenly inter- 
 rupting him; ‘‘you have sometimes told me that Fanny 
 and I were exactly the same age; but I cannot help think- 
 ing that she is younger than I am, for it seems to me 
 that I remember her a very little girl, when I was a tall 
 boy.” 
 
 “ And now she is a little ivoma% I suppose I must call 
 her — for she has the airs and consequence of one, though 
 she is not yet out of her teens — and you are a tall man ; 
 I suppose you write yourself ‘ man,’ although you have 
 all the folly and thoughtlessness of a boy ; but let us dis- 
 miss this nonsense — Charles is asleep, and I dare say you 
 will have no objection to follow his example, for you 
 look quite feverish and tired. I declare, I shall be glad 
 to get you all down into the country, and into a regular 
 wa}’’ of living again, for it Avill indeed be well, if Ave noAv 
 get out of Loudon without some mischief.” 
 
 Mr. Levison hobbled off to his chamber, to take his 
 morning dose; and Denzil was left alone Avith Fanny, 
 Charles being too soundly buried in sleep, to be reckoned 
 as one of the company. 
 
 Though feverish and tired, as Mr. Levison had 
 remarked, Denzil Montgomery never had less inclination 
 to sleep than at tlie present moment. With folded arms 
 and irregular step, he paced the room baclcAvards and 
 for Awards, Avhile Fanny, though she affected to be engaged 
 with the book w'hich she had taken from the shelves, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEK. 
 
 19 
 
 from time to time raised her sparkiiog blue eyes to ijis, 
 with a look of surprise and inquiry. 
 
 You are unusually silent, my dear Fanny,” said 
 Denzil, at length stopping his hurried walk, and throw- 
 ing himself on the chair opposite to her, “ Are you, too, 
 angry with me, for having played the truant ?” 
 
 “ Angry ! no, Denzil, only surprised and grieved, 
 that any thing* should have occurred to distress you, 
 which you think necessary to conceal from your best 
 friends.” 
 
 “ It is only that I would not willingly distress those 
 friends, and that I fear, I know not wh)q to incur the 
 reproach of some whom I hardly know whether I should 
 consider as such, that I am silent as to the cause tluit 
 drew me from home last night,” replied Denzil. 
 
 ‘‘ Then there is a mystery, and you are hound to con- 
 cealment,” observed Fanny, looking very grave — Oh, 
 Denzil, beware! how often have you been cautioned 
 against indulging that disposition to romance ” 
 
 ‘‘ This is the second time to-night I have been reproached 
 respecting my love of the marvellous,” interrupted De>i- 
 zil, rather petulantly; ‘‘yet, I assure you, Fanny, in 
 this instance I have nothing to reproach myself with; for 
 it was not my seeking, and I acted with all due caution — 
 with too much caution, indeed, for it defeated my 
 purpose.” 
 
 “ Pray, do not talk to me any more about it,” said 
 Fanny, assuming his own tone; “for, unless you can 
 speak plainly, and tell me the whole stor}^ you had better 
 not raise my curiosity at all.” 
 
 “ I cannot tell you, then, Fanny,” said Denzil, gasping 
 from excess of agitation, as the recollection of the Gipsy’s 
 
20 
 
 THE (HPSV MOTHER. 
 
 last words rushed into his mind; “I must not tell you — 
 I must not talk with you — I must leave you, for ever, 
 unless my doubts, my fears, are explained !” 
 
 ^‘Good heavens! Denzil, are you mad? what is it you 
 mean?” exclaimed Fanny, starting up; Charles I Charles! 
 rouse yourself — what has Denzil been doing? where has 
 he been ?” 
 
 *‘Been — been only to meet that man. It was very 
 foolish, and so I told him,” returned Charles, half asleep, 
 ®‘an old impostor! I wish I had seen him.” 
 
 “Who? what is it you are talking of ? why do you 
 not at once tell my father, if Denzil is in danger ?” 
 exclaimed Fann}^ 
 
 “Tell my uncle — tell him what?” said Charles, rub- 
 bing his eyes, and beginning to recollect himself, “ I have 
 nothing to tell, child, except a foolish dream, about I 
 know not what; but I must positively go to bed, for I 
 am completely tired out — and Denzil, I am sure, had 
 better try to go to sleep, too — it will bring us both to 
 our sober senses.” 
 
 “Tell me but one thing, Denzil, before you go, and I 
 shall be satisfied,” said Fanny, detaining the latter, as he 
 was following his companion out of the room. “Have 
 you been induced to drink too much wine, or are you 
 really unhappy?” 
 
 “ I have not been drinking, my dear girl, but I am 
 really unhappy,” said Denzil, in a serious tone; “tliough 
 I know not that I have any real cause ’to be so — perhaps 
 the whole is unfounded; but the evil is, I know not how 
 to prove it so.” 
 
 Fanny relaxed the hold she had kept of his arm — her 
 lips quivered — and as she turned from him to the win- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 21 
 
 dow, to conceal her tears, Denzil followed her, exclaiming 
 — ‘‘Fanny, my beloved, adored Fanny! And yet, wretch 
 as I am, how dare I call you so, when perhaps ” 
 
 “ For mercy’s sake, do not talk so wildly, Denzil. 
 Oh, what can have happened !” and she clasped her hands 
 in agony — “ Avliat can have fjeen done, to occasion this 
 change? I sav/ during the whole of yesterday evening-, 
 that something unusual had disturlied you — my aunt, 
 too, remarked that you Avere not in your usual spirits, 
 nor did you seem so much delighted Avith the music as 
 she expected you Avould have been; but, then, youi’ man- 
 ners, your aftection toAvards me, did not appear to have 
 changed — on the contrary, hoAV proud and happy you 
 made me, Avhen you said — you knoAV Avhat you said, 
 Denzil, Avhen the prima donna sang your favourite Non 
 che pin aitdrai.^' 
 
 She blushed, as she recalled to the recollection of 
 her lover this expression of his tenderness, and Denzil 
 with a sigh replied — 
 
 “ Yes, I know Avhat I said, dear Fanny — and said, 
 Avith truth, that I Avould rather hear you Avarble it, Avith 
 that grace and simplicity so peculiarly your oAvn, tlian 
 hear it as avc did last night, loaded Avith all the ornament 
 that skill and science coidd bestoAv.” 
 
 “Let me sing it to you iioav,” said Fanny, Avith a ten- 
 der smile, “ and try if it Avill not lull into quiet those vexa- 
 tions, Avhatever they may be, Avhich have so much dis- 
 composed you.” 
 
 “ Not noAv, not now — Oh no, dearest Fanny, I dare 
 not trust myself to listen to you iioav,” exclaimed Denzil, 
 Avith an air of distraction. “ Oh no, I Avill go and try 
 to seek repose — I aviU endeavour to reason mysell into 
 
22 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 calmness — I dare not listen to your voice noAv, I dare 
 not think how often 1 have listened to it, until ’’ 
 
 He rushed out of the room, and Fanny remained for 
 some moments gazing' after him, with scarcely less emo- 
 tion than he liad himself betrayed. 
 
 “ Fleaven preserve his senses!” she at length ejacula- 
 ted, ‘^and yet, surely, these cannot be the visions of a 
 distempered brain — there is too much method in them 
 for madness — and yet, what possible event could render 
 it a crime for him to love me ? It is true, ray father does 
 not, I believe, suspect that his affection for me differs 
 from that which my cousin Charles feels for me — but if 
 he did, would he object to it? Oh, no, he is too kind 
 and indulgent, both to him and me ; and if Denzifs for- 
 tune is but small, as I sometimes suspect, shall not I have 
 sufficient wealth for both?” 
 
 The entrance of her aunt Rachel disturbed Fanny’s 
 reverie. 
 
 Upon my word, niece,” observed the bustling old 
 lady, ‘The vagaries of these wild young men seem to have 
 deranged every thing in the house. The servants, instead 
 of gaining, by having been roused out of bed, two or 
 three hours before their usual time, stand yawning' and 
 gaping till my hands itch to box their ears! Your father 
 has gone to sleep in his arm-chair, instead of walking 
 about for an hour after taking his morning draught, as 
 the physician prescribed; and you, instead of making up 
 for last night’s dissipation, by double diligence at your 
 studies this morning, stand looking through the window, 
 though I have often told you, when remarking the con- 
 duct of the lady opposite, that there cannot be a surer 
 indication of a vacant mind, than to see a female con- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHERo 
 
 23 
 
 stantly occupied in gazing at what is passing in the 
 streets/^ 
 
 “ I beg your pardon, dear aunt — I was not conscious 
 what I was doing — indeed, I am not well ! ** and she sat 
 down, and burst into tears. 
 
 “ Not well, my dear, dear child !” repeated her fond 
 relative, in alarm : “ you are not well, indeed, my poor 
 Fanny—your hands are as hot as fire, and your face is 
 flushed. Idiot that I was, to chide you ! do not cry, my 
 dear child, you will break my heart — you must go 
 instantly to bed, and have some whey ! — this is the result 
 of my brother’s folly ! I will send directly for Doctor 
 Harford ! Good heavens, and to think that I should 
 reprove you for idleness !” 
 
 Do not alarm yourself, dear aunt,” said Fanny, 
 beginning to recover from the hysterical affection which 
 had seized her — “ you must recollect that I am not used 
 to such late hours as we kept last night ; and, from the 
 heat of the house, and the excitement of the music, I 
 could not sleep during the little time I was in bed. 
 Besides, Martha had told me, as I was undressing, that 
 Charles and Denzil had slipped out of the house after 
 seeing us safe, which, you know, alarmed me, because I 
 know what a dangerous place London is, as papa says.” 
 
 “ Your father is 1 was going to say a very unbecom- 
 
 ing word, Fanny — hut it is, indeed, very foolish of him 
 to be always preaching up the dangers of London. Why 
 did he bring the two boys to town, unless they were 
 to see something of life ; and they cannot do that, if they 
 are to be always tied to our apron strings. It is his 
 foolish nonsense that has done all the harm — he has filled^ 
 your head with imaginary terrors, and you have literally 
 
24 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 frightened yourself into a fever; but come, my dear 
 child, let me see you to your chamJier, and then I shall 
 know what to do.” 
 
 Fanny readily obeyed her, glad to be left to the 
 solitude of her own apartment, having received a promise 
 that her father should not be alarmed with any report of 
 her illness, and that her aunt would wait till Doctor 
 Harford made his usual morning-call upon Mr. Levison, 
 when, if she was not better, she (Fanny) would not objeci 
 to take his advice. 
 
 Should it be only a cold, my dear child — which is 
 not unlikely, as you are not used to public places, and 
 the Opera House, certainly, was very hot last night — I 
 will not yield my skill even to Doctor Harford’s ; but if 
 it should be a nervous fever, which I am terribly afraid of, 
 from these fits of weeping and trembling, we cannot too 
 soon have his advice.” 
 
 Long before Doctor Harford came, Fanny was fast 
 asleep — she had, indeed, wept till her eyes were red and 
 swollen, and she had thought till her senses had become 
 bewildered — but the Doctor having, by her tender aunt’s 
 direction, stole softly to the bed-side, and felt her pulse, 
 and heard, over and over again, all the symptoms of her 
 illness, gave his decided opinion that she was not attacked 
 l)y any serious disorder, but was only enduring that which 
 most country ladies suffered, when first embarking in 
 the irregularity of a town life. Aunt Rachel’s fears 
 were relieved by this information, and her niece was suf- 
 fered to sleep for some hours undisturbed, while she 
 resumed her usual morning’s occupation of directing the 
 household affairs, and scolding the servants. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 25 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 “ Swifter than thought flies by the lucky hour, 
 Which lost, returns no more.” 
 
 Mr. Levison, senior, was a man of immense wealth, 
 and ancient family, who had for many ages been seated 
 in the most picturesque part of Cumberland. The pre- 
 sent possessor of that name, and the head of the family 
 to which we have introduced our readers, prided himself 
 much more on the antiquity of his family, than on its 
 wealth, “ Chance may enrich the man of base blood,’' 
 he frequently observed, “ but cannot ennoble him and 
 as he carried this principle into action, and frequently 
 manifested a degree of contempt towards many of his 
 neighbours, Avho were not so fortunate as himself in being 
 able to trace their pedigrees to so remote a period as he 
 could, it may be readily conceived that, when resident on 
 his patrimonial estate, he led a very retired and indepen- 
 dent sort of life. 
 
 It was rumoured, however, that in his youth, and 
 while a younger brother, Mr. Levison had been despe- 
 rately gay ; and it was known that his brother, then the 
 possessor of Levison Hall and the surrounding estates for 
 many miles in extent, had been severely taxed to supply 
 his brother’s extravagances. 
 
THE GirSY MOTHER. 
 
 
 Alfred Augustus Levisoii, wlio at that period was the 
 representative of the family, had, it appeared, much less 
 dignified notions of the advantages of high birth and 
 pure blood, than his brother Charles, the testy old gentle- 
 man to whom we have introduced our readers in the 
 preceding chapter. He was arrogant, sometimes, it is 
 true, and occasionally tyrannical, if he was crossed in his 
 views or his wishes ; but as those were mostly confined 
 within a narrow compass, — as he limited his ambition to 
 being the best shot, possessing the finest horses and the 
 best pack of hounds in the county, and indulged no 
 feelings that were likely to interfere with the comfort 
 of his neighbours, — he had few enemies ; while his hospi- 
 tality and readiness to join in all the festive sports, even 
 among his inferiors, and promote them by a lavish 
 expenditure of liis money, gained him many well-wishers, 
 if not exactly what might be called friends. 
 
 Till the age of forty-five, Alfred Levison remained a 
 bachelor, in spite of all the devices that were practised 
 to ensnare his heart, by the fair ones, high and low, in 
 his neighbourhood. There were several females, indeed, 
 of the latter description, who could boast of having 
 attained a temporary influence over him, which, though 
 it did not tend to enhance their reputation, had 
 the eflect, generally, of enriching themselves and their 
 relations. But Mr. Levison’s time for falling in love 
 had not then, it seemed, arrived — he was about the 
 age we have before mentioned, when he first met 
 with a female who was destined to inspire the tender 
 })assion. 
 
 He had been attending a festive dinner at the public 
 inn, in a small village distant about ten miles from his 
 
THE GIPSY* MOTHER. 
 
 27 
 
 own house, where he had taken even more than his usual 
 allowance of wine. The horse which he rode upon the 
 occasion being- a young- and spirited animal, to which he 
 ■was unaccustomed, he had scarcely mounted it, intending- 
 to return home, when it suddenly reared, and throwing 
 him forward, his head struck against the gate of the inn- 
 yard. 
 
 It Avas late in the evening, and no surgeon resided 
 within ten miles of the spot — but it was ordained that 
 Mr. Levison should not at this time perish for lack of 
 help. He Avas taken into the house in a state of utter 
 insensibility, and a man Avas already despatched express 
 for the doctor, when a stranger, avIio had that evening- 
 driven up to the inn in a single-horse chaise, and engaged 
 a bed for himself, and another for a young lady Avith him, 
 Avhom he called his daughter, stepped forward, and, an- 
 nouncing himself as a military surgeon, and therefore 
 properly qualified for the case before him, offered his 
 services. 
 
 Of course this offer Avas gladly accepted, and Mr. Le- 
 vison, by his directions, accordingly put to bed. 
 
 The doctor bled him, and having ascertained that no 
 limbs Avere broken, pronounced his opinion, that his patient 
 had received a concussion of the brain; and that, though 
 he might do well, the greatest care and attention Avould 
 be necessary to bring him about again, and to restore 
 him to health. 
 
 The event proved the correctness of his judgment. 
 For many days Mr. Levison lingered between life and 
 death, and the stranger delayed his journey, in order that 
 he might continue his services to him. Day and night 
 he watched by his bed-side, and if he left him, for a short 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 28 
 
 time, to recnilt his own strength by some refreshment, 
 his daughter, a beautiful girl about nineteen years of age, 
 regularly supplied his place, administered the medicines, 
 smoothed his uneasy pillow, and listened to and soothed 
 his complaints, with the gentleness of an attached relative, 
 rather than an entire stranger. 
 
 Gradually Mr. Levison became fully sensible of the 
 value of these attentions; and, grateful as he felt for the 
 care and skill to which he readily believed he owed the 
 preservation of his life, still warmer were the feelings 
 with which he regarded his beautiful nurse. 
 
 Elinor Tyrrell was indeed beautiful — tall, slender, and 
 graceful, her form was symmetry itself, while every 
 movement was replete with elegance. Her complexion, 
 of the clearest olive, was lighted by the bright glow of 
 health, and her lovely mouth, ever smiling, disclosed teeth 
 with which the most exquisite pearls could not compare, 
 while her dark hair clustered in thick natural ringlets 
 over her beautiful forehead, and her large brilliant black 
 eyes beamed with tenderness and feeling. 
 
 Such was the being who was (unfortunately, indeed, 
 for her,) ordained to inspire in the bosom of Mr. Levison 
 feelings to which he had been hitherto a stranger. 
 
 The father of Elinor was a man who had evidently 
 seen much of the world, and had profited well by its les- 
 sons. In him, Mr. Levison found a companion ever 
 pleasant and entertaining, and he began to feel uneasy at 
 the thought that a short time must separate him, probably 
 for ever, from two persons whom he preferred to all 
 whom he had ever known. 
 
 But Mr. Tyrrell talked of the speedy continuance of 
 Ills journey as indispensable, and it was some days before? 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 29 
 
 Mr. Levisoii could summon courage to inquire further 
 into the circumstances of his new friend. 
 
 At length, however, he learned that Mr. Tyrrell, after 
 passing many years abroad in the capacity of an army sur- 
 geon, had returned to England on half-pay, and was 
 seeking, with the aid of some friends, to establish himself 
 as a medical practitioner, and was now journeying to a 
 town about fifty miles farther, which had been pointed 
 out to him as offering a fair field for his exertions. 
 
 “ Could he not be prevailed upon to fix his residence 
 nearer?” thought Mr. Levison; ‘‘why not immediately 
 in my own neighbourhood? — my patronage would secure 
 him practice. Our old Esculapius has made sufficient 
 money to retire, and I should not mind sacrificing a 
 trifle, to secure such a benefit as Tyrrell would prove, not 
 only to me, but the whole county.” 
 
 The proposition was made, and eagerly caught at by 
 Mr. Tyrrell. The horse and chaise in which the latter 
 had travelled was sent back to the friend from whom 
 he had borrowed it, by one of Mr. Levison’s own 
 servants, and he and his beautiful daughter accompanied 
 their patient home, as soon as he could bear the motion 
 of a carriage, to remain with him until a house could be 
 procured, and affairs arranged to their satisfaction. 
 
 Elinor was delighted with the house, (which was a 
 truly noble mansion) — the park, the shrubberies, the gar- 
 dens, all were subjects of admiration, and she expressed 
 her feelings with all the warmth and simplicity of child- 
 hood. Upon one occasion, when she had been warmly 
 expressing the delight she experienced, Mr. Levison 
 gained sufficient courage to say — 
 
 “ It is in your power, Miss Tyrrell, to be mistress of 
 
80 
 
 THE HTPSY MOTHEi;. 
 
 all you s(‘c*, if you please to talce tlio owner into tiie 1)ar- 
 g-ain.” 
 
 Mr. Tyrrell was present when this was said, though 
 it was not uttered as if intended for his hearing. 
 
 He darted a keen look at his daughter, as he anxiously 
 listened for her reply — but Elinor did not answer-, she 
 only cast down her eyes and turned pale, while Mr. Le- 
 vison, as if abashed at his own temerity, immediately 
 changed the subject, by speaking of some alterations he 
 proposed to make in the dining-room which they were in. 
 
 ‘‘ There wants but one thing in my opinion,” said Mr. 
 Tyrrell, to make it all that could be wished.” 
 
 And what is that?” demanded Levison, eagerl}^ 
 
 Only a lady to preside at the head of the table,” re- 
 turned Tyrrell, laughing. 
 
 Mr, Levison smiled too, but said nothing; and Elinor 
 agnin cast her eyes to the ground, in extreme embarrass- 
 
 jneiit. 
 
 During the dinner, her thoughtfulness and gloom 
 were most striking, while her father was exuberantly 
 gay and vivacious. 
 
 Miss Tyrrell is not well, I fear,” said Mr. Levison, 
 observing that she did not join in the laugh which her 
 father’s bo7i mots occasioned, nor did she even appear to 
 hear them. 
 
 “ What is the matter, Elinor ?” demanded Mr. Tvr- 
 rell, affecting for the first time to have observed her pen- 
 siveness. “ Are you sorry to see our kind friend restored 
 to health and spirits again ?” 
 
 Oh no, indeed,” replied Elinor, blushing, Mr. Levi- 
 son, I am sure, does not think so.” 
 
 ‘‘ I should be very ungrateful if I did,” observed Levi- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 31 
 
 son; “ indeed, I can never suspect that Miss Tyrrell is 
 indifferent to my welfare, when I recollect all she has 
 done towards my restoration.” 
 
 Elinor blushed still deeper — she tried to say that she 
 liad done no more than common humanity prompted, but 
 a look from her father restrained her. 
 
 The cloth was removed, and Elinor took the first 
 opportunity of retiring to commune with her own heart. 
 
 It was long before Mr. Levison and his companion 
 left their wine for the tea-table, and Elinor’s anxious eye 
 read immediately in her father’s countenance that some- 
 thing more than ordinary had occurred to please him. 
 
 His look, as he met Elinor’s inquiring glance, spoke 
 volumes; and pale, trembling, and agitated, the unhappy 
 girl sank down upon her chair, without replying to Mr. 
 Levison’s anxious inquiry whether she felt better. 
 
 “ I think I must turn nurse, now,” observed Levison, 
 who was evidently elated with wine. “You have made me 
 well — and I must try my skill in curing you.” 
 
 Elinor murmured an expression of thankfulness for 
 his kind intentions, which she assured him were quite 
 needless, for she was well — quite well. 
 
 “ If you are not, you ought to be,” observed her 
 father, with marked emphasis. 
 
 Elinor raised her eyes to his, with a look not merely 
 of reproach — but reproach, contempt, indignation, defi- 
 ance, all were blended in one fiery glance, and Tyrrell’s 
 spirits seemed for a moment daunted, but he (|uickly 
 recovered himself, and in a tone of levity observed 
 
 “ Elinor, I suspect, begins to fancy herself a fine lady, 
 because she has got into a fine house, and thinks it neces- 
 sary to the character, to be nervous and vapourish — but 
 
32 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 wc shall soon find means to cure her of that fancy, do 
 not you think we shall, Mr. Levison ?” 
 
 ‘‘ If that is all,” said Levison, looking- tenderly and 
 thoughtfully at her ; hut Elinor had again sunk into a 
 fit of musing, and did not seem to notice what had been 
 said. 
 
 The evening passed away very flatly — Mr. Levisorfs 
 good spirits gradually faded — he seemed to have caught 
 the contagion of Elinor’s gloom — and Tyrrell, though 
 he tried to keep a tone of jovialty, was restless, uneasy, 
 and watchful. 
 
 They parted for the night at an earlier hour than 
 common, but Mr. Tyrrell and his daughter did not 
 retire to bed for some hours after Mr. Levison. 
 
 “ I have something to say to you, Elinor,” observed 
 the father, as he led her to the drawing-room door, go 
 into the garden, and I will follow you in a few minutes.” 
 
 Elinor’s head turned dizzy, and her limbs tottered 
 beneath her, as she descended the staircase. 
 
 It was a most beautiful summer evening — the moon 
 was shining in the deep blue sky, without a cloud to in- 
 tercept its splendour. Not a sound disturbed the stillness, 
 save the soft breath of evening, which wantoned among 
 the shrubs and flowers, and came loaded with a thousand 
 fi-agraiit sweets to salute her : hut Elinor was insensible 
 to the beauty of the scene ; her heart was throbbing Avith 
 ana’uish, and her brain was on fire with indignation, 
 shame, and contempt of her mercenary parent — of him 
 who regarded his child but as the stepping-stone to 
 Avealth and distinction. Yes, too Avell did Elinor 
 anticipate the tale her father had to pour into her unAvill- 
 ing ear, and too Avell slic knew that resistance to his 
 
THE GiPSY MOTHER. 
 
 33 
 
 will would be in vain. She was well aware that neither 
 feeling', justice, nor mercy, dwelt in the bosom of him 
 whom she had the misfortune to call her parent — yet 
 there was one plea, and she clasped her white hands 
 together in agony, as she thought of it — one plea, which 
 might, for his own sake, deter him from urging the 
 hateful project which she knew he was about to com- 
 municate. 
 
 Elinor was right in her conjecture — for, with little 
 preparation, and less delicacy, Mr. Tyrrell informed her 
 that Mr. Levison had offered to make her the mistress 
 of his hand and fortune. 
 
 “ Now, I know what you are going to say, Elinor,’* 
 he continued, preventing her, ‘‘ but, pray curb your 
 impatience, and listen to me. As to love for Elamerton, 
 I know it is all very natural that you should fancy that 
 you can never love anybody but him, rascally as he has 
 behaved to you. I have known what the feelings of 
 youth are, Elinor, and I can make all allowance — but, 
 believe me, you deceive yourself. 1 was in love^ as 
 it is called, two or three times before I was one and 
 twenty — and I fancied, each time, that the goddess of 
 my idolatry was the only one that could make 
 me happy — I married, at last, for love; and you 
 know how supremely happy your mother and I lived 
 together.” 
 
 “ Do not mention my mother, sir,” exclaimed Elinor, 
 with vehemence. Had my mother lived, I should 
 never have been the wretch I am !” 
 
 “Very likely not,” said Mr. Tyrrell, drily; “she 
 would have made you a wretch in her own way. She 
 would have married you to some romantic fool, not 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 THE (iirSY MOTHEH. 
 
 worth a shilliiio-, and have had the felicity of seeing you 
 starving, with half a dozen brats around you.” 
 
 ‘‘ My mother would have done nothing but what was 
 proper and good,” returned Elinor, with increasing 
 indignation. My mother would never have seen her 
 child sold to shame and misery ! Oh, that I were now 
 in the cold and silent grave, in which she rests ! Oh, 
 that I could for ever hide ” 
 
 ‘‘ Psha ! a truce to these tragedy airs. Miss Tyrrell, if 
 you please,” interrupted her father, “ and condescend to 
 talk like a rational being — like a sensible girl, as you 
 are ; for you know, Elinor, and I know that you possess 
 ten times more understanding than you have just dis- 
 played. What shame have you incurred, that requires 
 so great a sacrihce as your death, in the prime of youth ? 
 What’s past is past, — and it is known to none but you and 
 I, who are interested in keeping the secret — and who 
 would undoubtedly be the last to publish it. Hamerton 
 is, by this time, some thousands of miles separated from 
 us; and, even if he were to return, he dare not — -would 
 not, whisper one word to sully your fame, as the wife 
 of Mr. Levison, should he ever discover you in that 
 character, which is not very probable.” 
 
 “ I can never become the wife of Mr. Levison,” said 
 Elinor, firmly. I am not going to plead my aversion to 
 such a union, therefore hear me out, sir, before you 
 begin to utter that rage which I see is ready to break 
 forth against me. I am not going to plead the disparity 
 of our ages, my utter inability to love him, or any of 
 those pleas which I might, and with good reason, urge 
 against it ; but there is another, an unanswerable objec- 
 tion, which even you, with all your sophistry, cannot 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 35 
 
 answer — I am,” and she hid her face with her hands, 
 while her voice became almost inarticulate with agony, 
 
 I am in that state which will bring a living Avitness 
 into the world of my disgrace, and — and — the cruelty of 
 those who plotted my ruin.” 
 
 It is a lie ! a base and infamous lie !” exclaimed 
 Tyrrell, grasping her arm Avith violence. “ I Avill not 
 believe it. It is a plan fabricated to defeat the fair pros- 
 pects that have opened both for myself and you.” 
 
 No, so help me, HeaA^en !” she exclaimed, sinking 
 on her knees, and raising her hands in solemn adjuration. 
 
 The moonbeams fell full upon her beautiful counte- 
 nance — her face Avas ghastly pale, and Mr. Tyrrell, after 
 gazing at her for a moment in silence, raised her in his 
 arms from the ground. 
 
 “ My poor girl !” he observed, in a soothing tone, 
 “ I have been rash and unjust. I see that you are 
 impressed with the belief of Avhat you have told me, and 
 I can account for all that has made me angry in your 
 conduct this day : but, trust me, Elinor, your fears alone 
 have raised this bugbear, to affright you from the path to 
 fortune and distinction. But if it be so, Elinor, do not 
 grieve, my child — I am poor, it is true — you knoAv hoAv 
 poor — yet Ave must do the best Ave can, to screen you from 
 the Avorld’s contempt, and provide for the poor infant. 
 But we Avill not talk of this now — keep up your 
 spirits, my girl, and, above all things, do not dis- 
 courage Levison’s suit to you. It Avill be the means, 
 perhaps, of inducing him to Avithhold those favours he 
 is about to confer upon me, and I have noAV a double 
 reason to be careful to improve his friendship, since he 
 alone can furnish the means to provide for my poor 
 
3 (> 
 
 'riFE iMOTllEU. 
 
 g’ir], should tlie worst come to the worst. But go in, 
 my Elinor, and retire to rest — we will not too readily 
 yield to despair — only ag'ain, I entreat you, be cautious 
 how you conduct yourself towards Mr. Levisoii — for on 
 that depends your welfare, as well as mine.” 
 
 Elinor retired, but not to rest — her mind, though 
 in part relieved of a heavy burthen, was yet tormented 
 with a thousand fears and dismal forebodings, but 
 the bitterness of her feelings towards her father had 
 evaporated, and she felt more calm than she heid done for 
 many hours before. 
 
 Heaven forgive him !” she exclaimed, ‘‘ and 
 strengthen that parental feeling, which I had begun 
 to believe had no place in his heart. It may be, 
 that I have wronged him — and that all he has done, was 
 from a mistaken hope of advancing my interest. Yet 
 Hamerton’s last words were, to caution me against my 
 father — but ought I to believe the assertions of one, 
 who proved himself lost to all principles of honour and 
 humanity ? Oh, Frederic, it is on you the guilt will fall, 
 whatever may be my crimes, or my errors !” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 37 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 And I wJll forth, and flee away 
 From out my ain countrie ; 
 
 There beams no sun — there comes no day 
 Within this land for me. — Anon. 
 
 Although Elinor, like her father, was fiery and vindic- 
 tiYe, yet was she easily accessible to persuasion and 
 gentleness, and, little as he deserved it, tndy solicitous 
 for her father’s welfare. She was not insensible, too, 
 to her own interest; and having experienced the bitter 
 evils of poverty, she trembled at the thought of again 
 being exposed to them. The little that her father pos- 
 sessed, she knew would be insufiicient even to answer his 
 own demands; and she felt, therefore, even while she con- 
 temned her father’s councils, the necessity of acting up to 
 them. 
 
 On her next meeting with Mr. Levison, she showed 
 no reluctance to listen to his suit, except such as might 
 easily be attributed to maiden modesty, whicli 
 
 “ Would be wooed, and not unsought be won.*' 
 
 But Mr. Tyrrell’s deep-laid projects did not end in 
 merely retaining Mr. Levison’s temporary friendship — 
 by degrees Elinor was brought to listen to, debate, and 
 finally to assist in, his nefarious plans for imposing 
 upon their warm-hearted and incautious benefactor. 
 
 Tyrrell could no longer persuade either himself or his 
 
38 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 daughter that her fears were unfounded — she was 
 evidently in a situation which must produce a disclosure 
 of her shame — yet such was the induence her father had 
 acquired over her, and sucli the plausibility of the 
 Jirguments he adduced, to a mind more than half cor- 
 rupted by constant exposure to his sophistical doctrines, 
 that the once candid, open-hearted Elinor consented to 
 bpcome a systematic deceiver, and assist to betray the 
 unsuspecting Levison into ruin. 
 
 Before the end of six weeks from their first meeting, 
 Mr, Levison led Elinor Tyrrell to the hymeneal altar, 
 to the astonishment of all his friends and neighbours, 
 and the great scandal of all the ladies,, young and old, 
 who had at different times flattered themselves that they 
 stood a fair chance of overcoming his avowed aversion 
 to matrimony. The young were astonished that a girl 
 of nineteen, who had some pretensions to beauty, could 
 be so mad as to sacrifice herself to an old, disagreealile 
 fellow, merely for the sake of his money ; while ladies 
 of a certain age wondered that a man who Avas con- 
 sidered so shreAvd and penetrating as Mr. Levison, 
 should be ensnared by an artful chit, whose age and 
 beauty Avere at all events questionable. Mr. Levison, 
 hoAvever, was too fully occupied Avith his iieAv-born hap- 
 piness, to concern himself about Avhat the Avorld said of 
 him, or his conduct. 
 
 The honeymoon passed aAvay, and Mr. Tyrrell began 
 to talk of taking possession of the handsome house Avhich 
 had been engaged for him; but Elinor was seized Avith a 
 slight indisposition, and as Mr. T3Trell Avhispered to Mr. 
 LeATLson that it was indicative of a circumstance highly 
 interesting to his feelings as a husband, the former was 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 39 
 
 implored not to leave them, but remain and watch over 
 Elinor’s health. 
 
 The plea of indisposition was a sufficient excuse for Mrs. 
 Levison’s declining' to receive the ladies of the neigh- 
 bourhood; and the festivities attending their marriage 
 were entirely confined to Mr. Levison’s tenants. But 
 although the latter, one and all, declared that their new 
 lady, of whom they had a transient glance, was the 
 most beautiful and gracious creature that ever was seen, 
 and though Mr. Levison declared to some of his most 
 intimate acquaintance, (who had joked him on the subject 
 of his submitting to wear the yoke of matrimony,) that 
 he never knew what happiness was, till he became a hus- 
 band — yet strange and mysterious whispers were soon in 
 circulation respecting the new-married pair ; and it was 
 confidently predicted, by those who had or affected to 
 have the best information on the subject, that a storm 
 was gathering, which would effectually destroy the pre- 
 sent happiness at Levison Hall. 
 
 Too soon were these predictions verified — Elinor’s 
 frequent violent attacks, which confined her to her cham- 
 ber for the most part of her time, began to make the 
 doting husband tremble, not only for her life, but her 
 reason; since she sometimes acted and spoke with such 
 strange inconsistency, that her attendants were frequently 
 seriously alarmed; and his old housekeeper scrupled not 
 to declare to him, in private, that she was fearful the 
 sweet young creature was at times lunatic, and ought to 
 have a watch set over her, lest she should do any thing 
 to injure herself and the baby, which she was much afraid 
 would never see the light of the world, if the poor mo- 
 ther continued in her present state. 
 
-10 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Blit arc such thing's usual in her situation, Wil- 
 liams?” inquired Mr. Levisoii, in a tone of distress. 
 
 The old woman had hoard of such things, and she re- 
 peated two or three stories on the subject; but then it 
 always proved that there was some hidden cause for the 
 disease — in one, it was that they had been forced into a 
 marriage with a person they hated — in another, the fear of 
 not being able to provide for the coming offspring — and, 
 in a third, from a consciousness of guilt, in imposing 
 upon a husband the spurious offspring of illicit love. 
 
 “ Psha ! but none of these cases can apply to your 
 mistress said Mr. Levison, impatiently. 
 
 “ No, no — to be sure not,” returned the old lady, 
 casting down her eyes, Avith a sort of hesitation and per- 
 plexity, which struck Mr. Levison with surprise, indig- 
 nation, and horror. 
 
 “ Williams, you know or suspect more than you are 
 Avllling to say,” he at last uttered Avith difficulty; “ you 
 have been fifty years in my family — you nursed me, and 
 loved me as your OAvn, and I have ever been kind and 
 respectful to you — If, then, there is any thing concealed 
 from me — if you know any thing of the secret cause — and 
 yet you cannot, I am sure you cannot, dare not suspect — 
 I knoAv not Avhat I am saying, Williams — you liave dis- 
 tracted me, and 1 insist, I command, that you instantly 
 tell me Avhat you know, or fancy you know.” 
 
 “ The Lord have mercy upon me !” exclaimed the 
 poor old Avoman; “don’t look so Avild, for you terrify 
 me as bad as that poor young creature terrified me, 
 Avhile I Avas watching by her last night.” 
 
 “What did she say? Avhat did she do?” demanded 
 Levison, gasping for breath. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEP. 
 
 41 
 
 “ Why, it might be a dream — for her father had given 
 her a sleeping-draught, and had waited to see her, as he 
 thought, asleep ; but whether she was or was not, when 
 I coughed, she fancied that it was him, and she said, 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ It is no use going on in this way any longer — I 
 would sooner, at once, confess it all to him, and trust to 
 his mercy to provide for me and the wretched child, than 
 
 live to face that dreadful hour ’ and then she added, 
 
 in such an awful tone — ‘ I shall die, I know I shall — I 
 saw my mother in a dream last night, and she looked so 
 sternly at me; and when I stretched out my arms to her, 
 she shook her head and vanished — and I saw in her 
 place a coffin with my name upon it, not his name ! Oh, 
 no, he will not let me bear that, even in the grave ; and 
 yet I think that he will mourn for me, wretch as I am !’ 
 
 Mr. Levison hid his face, and liurst into tears; they 
 were the first he had shed since he had attained the age 
 of manhood, but they had not the effect of allaying the 
 tempest that raged in his bosom; and the old woman, 
 frightened at what she had done, sobbed in concert. 
 
 “ I will be satisfied, before I sleep he at length ex- 
 claimed, rising in a violent passion. “ Williams, I 
 charge you, be silent as to what you have heard — It 
 may, I pray fervently it may — be all the effects of deli- 
 rium ; but, for my sake, if you value me, do not tell any 
 one your suspicions.^^ 
 
 “ I would not say a word for the whole world,’^ re- 
 turned the old woman, still weeping. “ Fm sure I love 
 the poor thing, as if she was my own; and whenever 
 I’ve heard any hints thrown out among the servants, I’ve 
 always ” 
 
 “ So public, too,’^ interrupted Mr. Levison, starting; 
 
42 
 
 I'HE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ how have I slumbered all this while, or what infatua- 
 tion has so long blinded me?” 
 
 ‘‘That’s just what that saucy slut, the housemaid that 
 I sent about her business last week, said in my hearing 
 to one of the men — And, to tell the truth, that remark, 
 and not carelessness or untidiness, was the cause of her 
 being' turned away.” 
 
 “ What did she say, then?” demanded Levison, 
 anxiously. 
 
 “ Why, she said that she wondered how master could 
 be so blind, as not to see that he was imposed upon, and 
 would have an heir long before he had any right to ex- 
 pect one.” 
 
 Levison clenched his hands, and gnashed his teeth. 
 
 “ And I am the last to hear this !” he exclaimed, “ I 
 am the only one who could not see that I have been 
 cheated, fooled, betrayed— -made even the jest of my own 
 servants — the laughing-stock of the whole world.” 
 
 “ Oh, no ! I’m sure every body pities you,” said the 
 poor old woman. “ I was asked by Madam Askew, last 
 Sunday, as I was coming from church ” 
 
 “ Do not, for heaven’s sake, do not torture me any 
 longer !” exclaimed Mr. Levison, in agony. “ Where is 
 Tyrrell? — I will see him this moment, and demand satis- 
 faction of my doubts.” 
 
 “ He is with my mistress in her dressing-room,” re- 
 plied the housekeeper; “but, for heaven’s sake, don’t go 
 to be rash, my dear master, for your own sake, and the 
 poor young creature’s. Heaven knows best the secrets 
 of all hearts — but I do think that she is greatly to be 
 pitied.” 
 
 Mr. Levison rushed from the room, intending imme- 
 
THE GirSY MOTHER. 
 
 43 
 
 diately to seek Mr. Tyrrell, and boldly acquaint him 
 with the suspicions which had been excited in his bosom; 
 but, as he was passing- by an open window, he beheld the 
 father and daughter, arm-in-arm, coming up the long 
 avenue towards the house, and Elinor looked so lovely, 
 yet so fragile, as she leant on the supporting arm of her 
 father, and she smiled so sweetly, and kissed her hand to 
 him with such apparent affection, as he stood gazing at 
 her, that his resolution faltered. 
 
 “ I will not, cannot do it, in her presence,” he mur- 
 mured to himself. I will watch her narrowly through 
 the day, and, if I see aught to confirm my suspicions, I 
 will, when she has retired to her chamber, at once accuse 
 her.” 
 
 Mr. Levison, however, was but a novice in deception. 
 He tried to appear easy and kind as usual, and, when 
 they entered the house, he attempted to utter his plea- 
 sure at seeing her so much recovered, but the words 
 died in his throat, and he turned away, unable to speak — 
 for Elinor at that moment threw off the long cloak in 
 which she had been wrapped, and, as she did so, she be- 
 trayed that there was quite sufficient alteration in her ap- 
 pearance, to warrant the observations of his servants. 
 
 Elinor darted a look of consternation at her father, as 
 her husband turned away. 
 
 “ What can have happened ?” she observed, in a voice 
 of alarm ; we are betrayed !” 
 
 No, no — do not think so — something has disturbed 
 him — but it' is impossible it can be that!” returned 
 Tyrrell. “At any rate, keep up your spirits, and trust 
 to my prudence. Go, and dress for dinner — you know he 
 likes to see you looking well.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 
 Elinor retired to lier dressing-rooni, and took nn- 
 nsual trouble to decorate herself, though she was so 
 dreadfully agitated that she could scarcely stand. 
 
 The dinner-bell rang, and she descended the stairs; 
 ])ut no Mr. Levlson came to meet her, as was his usual 
 custom, and conduct her to the head of the table. On 
 the contrary, Mr. Tyrrell was alone, when she entered. 
 He glanced his eyes anxiously upon Elinor as she took 
 a seat at the table, but not a word was uttered by either. 
 
 At length Mr. Levison entered the dining-room, he 
 made a confused apology for being so late, and imme- 
 diately took his place at the teble. 
 
 Has any thing unpleasant occurred to vex yon, sir ?’ 
 incpiired Tyrrell. 
 
 Yes — no — yes — I have been rather — rather vexed,” 
 replied Levison with hesitation, but it is of no conse- 
 quence,” and he began to help himself, without apparently 
 noticing Elinor’s presence. 
 
 What will you take, my dear ?” inquired Mr. 
 Tyrrell, speaking unusually loud. 
 
 Mr. Levison seemed suddenly to recollect himself — 
 ])ut he did not even raise his eyes to Elinor’s face, as he 
 said — • 
 
 “ I bog your pardon — shall I send you some salmon?” 
 
 Elinor replied in the affirmative, and silence again 
 prevailed, until Mr. Tyrrell interrupted it, by some re- 
 mark on the quality of the dish he was eating of. 
 
 Levison, however, did not reply — his mind seemed 
 totally abstracted from what was passing around him, and 
 lie continued eating, without seeming to know that he was 
 doing so. 
 
 Once, only, did Elinor’s eyes encounter his^ — she spoke 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 45 
 
 in a low tone to her father, and, as if roused by the sound 
 of her voice, Mr. Levison suddenly darted a look of in™ 
 quiry towards her ; but he instantly withdrew his eyes, 
 with a sort of shudder, and almost immediately afterwards 
 pushed his plate, which he had just filled, with violence 
 from him, and throwing himself back in his chair, uttered 
 a deep gi’oan. 
 
 Tyrrell and his daughter both arose — “You are not 
 well, sir,’^ said the latter, in a trembling voice, as she 
 approached him. 
 
 “ Oh, yes, well — quite well !” he exclaimed, starting 
 up, as if to avoid her coming near him. “ I am quite 
 well, indeed — but this room is insufferably hot and close — 
 I cannot bear it !” and he rushed towards the door. 
 
 “ For Ileaven’s sake, what is the matter, Mr. Levison?” 
 exclaimed Tyrrell, hastily following him. “ You alarm 
 us dreadfully — look at Elinor — she is ready to fnint.” 
 
 Mr. Levison, however, did not venture to cast a single 
 glance towards her. 
 
 “ 1 will explain what is the matter, Mr. Tyrrell, when 
 
 I return, which will be when Mrs. when your 
 
 daughter has retired.” 
 
 The servants looked at each other in silent conster- 
 nation. 
 
 “ I will follow my master, if you please, sir,” said the 
 butler, quitting his place at the side-board. “ I have 
 been many years in his service, but never saw him before 
 in this way : and I am afraid ” 
 
 “ You can do as you please,” replied Tyrrell, coolly . 
 “ but I do not think there is any necessity for it.” 
 
 The man, however, did not wait for further permis- 
 sion, and Elinor, after a vain attempt to recover herself 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 sufficiently to resume her seat at the table, said, in a low 
 voice — 
 
 “ I had better go to my room, sir.” 
 
 I will conduct you,” said Mr. Tyrrell, still pre- 
 serving his coolness of’ manner, though his countenance 
 betrayed the inward workings of his mind. 
 
 ‘‘ Ring for Mrs. Levison’s maid,” he observed to the 
 footman, as he quitted the room, with his daughter lean- 
 ing on his arm. “ I shall return and finish my dinner in 
 a minute.” 
 
 “ Elinor,” he observed, as he led her to the staircase, 
 “ this is the crisis of our fate — we are suspected ! But 
 be firm, and do not betray yourself and me !” 
 
 Elinor could not utter a single Avord in reply. With 
 difficulty she reached the door of her chamber, and when 
 her maid, a few moments after, entered it, she found 
 her lying on the floor in a fainting fit. Before, how- 
 GA^er, the servant had time to summon assistance, she 
 unclosed her eyes, and looked Avildly round the room. 
 
 I am very ill, Anne,” she obserAmd, “ but do not 
 alarm any one — help me to pull off this finery, and get 
 me to bed.” 
 
 The servant entreated her to alioAv her to call Mr. 
 Tyrrell — but she exclaimed, Avith impatience, 
 
 “ No — no, I do not Avant him. I shall be better in 
 Imd, and he has enough — quite enough ” 
 
 The remainder of the sentence Avas uttered so indis- 
 tinctly, that Anne, anxious as she Avas to understand it, 
 could not comprehend its purport. She perceived, how- 
 ever, that it Avas of no use to oppose her mistress’s 
 determination, and the terrified girl, Avho was Avarmly 
 attached to her unfortunate mistress, hastened to comply 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ■i? 
 
 with her orders. In a short time, Anne had completed 
 her task, and Elinor closed her eyes. 
 
 You may go, now, Anne,” she observed, ‘‘ I feel 
 inclined to sleep.” 
 
 Anne felt unwilling to leave her, but her mistress 
 repeated the order, and she went to relate what had 
 occurred, and comment upon it in the servant’s hall. 
 But there, too, all was consternation and dismay. Mr. 
 Levison had struck the butler for daring to follow him 
 into the garden, and offering to condole with him. The 
 old man, divided between pity and anger, was loud and 
 bitter in his condemnation of those whose misdeeds had 
 so transformed a good master. 
 
 “ But it will all come out, now,” he continued, for 
 master has gone back to the dining-room, and I heard 
 him turn the key of the door, as soon as he Avent in, as if 
 he had made up his mind that Mr. Tyrrell should not 
 leave the room till he was satisfied.” 
 
 “ My poor mistress,” said Anne, despondingly ; ‘‘ I 
 am afraid it will go hard with her — oh, if you had but 
 seen her, Mr. Thomas — how like a corpse she looks — 
 her face whiter than the pillow it lies on — her beautiful 
 eyes looking as if they had tAvo black rings round them, 
 and her sAveet mouth, which ahvays speaks so kind and 
 gentle ” 
 
 There — there — that’s enough, girl !” interrupted 
 old Thomas, impatiently. “ It is that beauty which has 
 been the ruin of us all, — for I don’t scruple to say 
 my master is a ruined man — he’ll never be himself 
 again.” 
 
 “ Hark I what noise is that?” exclaimed one of the 
 men-servants. Surely, it Avas in the dining-parlour. 
 
4.8 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 I hope my master will not be rash. Mr. Tyrrell is a 
 very determined man, and if he is made desperate 
 
 The affrighted servants crowded to the door of the 
 hall to listen; but no sound was heard, and convinced 
 their fears had deceived them, they again returned to 
 their seats. 
 
 An hour elapsed without any order being issued from 
 the parlour — one by one the servants crept to the door 
 to listen ; but no sound was heard within, and at lenofth 
 the butler proposed that one of the w omen-servants 
 should venture, as if accidentally, to pass by the windows, 
 which looked upon a terrace-walk, and endeavour to 
 ascertain what was passing within the room. 
 
 No one except Anne, Mrs. Levison’s maid, would 
 venture upon this experiment ; but she, however, after a 
 few moments’ hesitation consented. Some time must ne- 
 cessarily expire before she could return, and this period 
 was passed in breathless suspense by the rest of the party. 
 
 At length she rushed into the room, pale as death, 
 and scarcely able to utter a word, in answer to their eager 
 inquiries, 
 
 I have seen her ghost ! it cannot be her !” she ex- 
 claimed. “ But yet it looked like her — and who else 
 could it be ?” 
 
 “ Who? what does the foolish girl mean?” demanded 
 the butler, impatiently. Where is my master? — where 
 is Mr. Tyrrell? — did you see themf^ 
 
 “ No, no,” she returned, ‘‘ I did not get so far — for I 
 had just mounted the terrace-steps, when I saAv a tall 
 figure, just like my mistress, all in white, glide from one 
 of the windows, and come towards me. I instantly ran 
 back as fast as I could, though it did not strike me, until 
 

 Ay/v/ ft/ y rj/ y/t)t>, 
 
 
 //■ / '///. > / ! '//.■ 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 49 
 
 I got into the hall, how impossible it was it could be my 
 mistress, whom I left in bed so ilL^^ 
 
 At this moment the bell in the dining-parlour rang 
 violently, and two or three of the, servants rushed simul- 
 taneously to obey its call. 
 
 Mr. Levison lay on the floor in strong convulsions, 
 and Mr. Tyrrell knelt by his side, administering some 
 restorative. 
 
 ‘‘ Your master’s strange conduct is now accounted 
 for,” he observed, to the butler. “ This attack has me- 
 naced him for some hours, and the violent pressure on 
 the brain has completely deranged him. The effects of 
 the fall from his horse will, I fear, after all, prove fatal 
 to him.” 
 
 The servants now crowded into the room, and Mr. 
 Levison was removed to a sofa. Bleeding and other 
 means were tried by Mr. Tyrrell, but he never dis- 
 covered the least sign of recollection or sensibility; and, 
 in less than an hour from the time Mr. Tyrrell had sum- 
 moned assistance, the unfortunate Levison breathed his 
 last. 
 
 “Where is my daughter?” inquired Mr. Tyrrell, as 
 he stood gazing on the lifeless corpse. “ This sad event 
 must be concealed from her, for, in her delicate state of 
 health and situation, it may have a fatal effect upon her.” 
 
 “ Does she not already know it?” said the butler, 
 fixing his eyes firmly upon him. “ She was here in the 
 room with you, a few moments before you called for 
 assistance.” 
 
 Mr. Tyrrell started. 
 
 “Here! my daughter here!” he exclaimed. “What 
 is it you mean?” 
 
50 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ‘‘ Her own maid saw her enter the terrace from that 
 window,” returned the butler, pointing to the unclosed 
 window, which opened to the ground. 
 
 “No, no!” exclaimed Anne, eagerly; “I did not say 
 it was her — I told you it looked more like a spirit than 
 a living person, though I thought it was my mistress.” 
 
 “ That is your mistress’s bell now ringing, if I mis- 
 take not,” said Mr. Tyrrell, listening. “ Go to her, 
 girl; and, for heaven’s sake, act with prudence; and do 
 not alarm her, either with what has happened, or the 
 effects of your imagination — for such it must have been, 
 that led you to suppose you saw your mistress here.” 
 
 Anne quitted the room to obey the summons. In a 
 few moments, Mrs. Williams, the housekeeper, was sent 
 for to her mistress’s room, and, in a very short time, it 
 was whispered among the servants, that a strange event 
 was likely to occur before the night was over. 
 
 The predictions of the experienced housekeeper, 
 though Mr. Tyrrell affected at first to disregard them, 
 were verified. Before the morning dawned, Mrs. Levison 
 had given birth to twin children — a boy and a girl — 
 who, in spite of his (Mr. Tyrrell’s) assertions that the 
 birth was premature, and occasioned by the shock his 
 daughter had received, were both fine, full-grown, 
 healthy children — a fact which the sage femme of the 
 adjacent village, who had been summoned at Elinor’s 
 own request, did not hesitate openly to declare to the 
 females around her. 
 
 Affecting to be wholly overcome by the melancholy 
 circumstance of Mr. Levison’s death, Mr. Tyrrell, hav- 
 ing sent for that gentleman’s steward, and, in his pre- 
 sence, affixed seals to the escritoir, and every place in 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 51 
 
 which it was supposed money or writings were 
 deposited, retired to his own chamber, having first 
 visited his daughter’s bed-side, and spoken to her for a 
 few moments, in a tone so low, as not to be heard by 
 the females who were in the apartment. 
 
 The patience and mildness of Mrs. Levison during 
 this trying scene, increased the pity and sorrow with 
 which she was beheld by those around her ; yet these 
 feelings could not blind them to the undeniable evidence 
 of her criminality, in having imposed upon her husband, 
 nor could they entirely subdue a suspicion of a much 
 darker nature, Avhich frequently made them shudder. 
 
 “ Is it not wonderful that she has never once men- 
 tioned my master, not even to ask if he was informed 
 of her illness ?” observed Anne, in a whisper to Mrs. 
 Williams. 
 
 The old woman shook her head, mysteriously. 
 
 It has a bad — a black look,” she observed, ‘‘ I hope 
 things may not turn out yet worse than they now are, 
 and that my poor master come by his end fairly; but 
 if it was really her whom you saw come out of the 
 dining-parlour, it will be hard for her to clear herself.” 
 
 Anne wrung her hands in agony. — “ Oh, how I wish 
 my tongue had been cut out, before I had ever said it, 
 if it should bring her to any harm — but I did not say it 
 was her — I only thought it was like her, and if I was put 
 to my oath ” 
 
 There is one thing which is quite sufficient to prove 
 that it was her, Anne. You helped to undress her, and 
 put her into bed before you came down stairs, you 
 told me.” 
 
 ‘‘ And so I did,” replied Anne. ‘‘ Oh merciful good- 
 
52 
 
 THK GTPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ness, I see it all now. When we came up stairs to her, 
 she was half-dressed, and her white wrapper laid on the 
 chair, that I left in the dressing-room before dinner.” 
 
 “ That’s just what I was going to say,” returned the 
 old woman, and we must be very careful, you know, 
 what we do say — for, you may depend upon it, we shall 
 all be put to our oaths — I heard the butler say, he should 
 go to the coroner directly, and have the body opened ; 
 and if he does, I am afraid ” 
 
 Anne shuddered with horror, at the dreadful ideas 
 that crossed her mind; but Elinor at that moment 
 unclosed her eyes and looked around her — and, forgetful 
 of every thing but her anxiety to administer to her 
 mistress’s comfort, the poor girl few to the bed-side, and 
 inquired if she could assist her, or give her any thing. 
 
 Elinor shook her head mournfully— No, my good 
 girl, nothing — I want nothing in this world,” she 
 replied. 
 
 But, my dear lady, you must take some nourish- 
 ment,” said the warm-hearted girl; consider how 
 many, many hours it is since you have taken any thing' 
 but a sup of water, and if you go on so, you will die.” 
 
 ‘‘ Die !” repeated her mistress, in a low and solemn 
 tone — “ oh, how welcome would death be now !” 
 
 ‘‘ Yes, madam,” observed the old housekeeper, you 
 might, perhaps, not dread death. Heaven grant you 
 may be prepared for it ! though the best of us can make 
 but a poor preparation for such an awful time — but, if 
 you die, what is to become of these poor dear babes. 
 They have no ” 
 
 She stopped, checked by Anne’s reproachful looks. 
 
 ‘‘ They have no father to provide for them — that is 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 53 
 
 what you meant to say, was it not, Mrs. Williams?’ 
 demanded Elinor, with quickness, and raising herself, 
 with almost supernatural strength, on her pillow. 
 ‘‘ Nay, do not shrink from telling me all ! Tell me that 
 
 Mr. Levison discards, detests, ahhors the wretch 1 
 
 will go instantly — I will leave the house — I will not stay 
 till he spurns me ! I can Leg with them, with these 
 poor ” 
 
 She sank back, exhausted ; and Anne with tears 
 reproached Mrs. Williams for her cruelty. 
 
 Elinor heard and understood her, though she could 
 not speak ; but she grasped with fervency Anne’s hand, 
 which held one of her cold ones within it. 
 
 Anne’s tears redoubled, as she continued to gaze upon 
 the pale marble-like face of her mistress, while mentally 
 she exclaimed — 
 
 “ I would almost die to serve her, even if she were 
 as guilty as that old woman pretends to believe her — 
 but she is innocent — I am sure she is innocent of that 
 foul crime; and as to the other, who can tell how she 
 may have been deluded and deceived — we are none of 
 us our own keepers, and happy are they whom God 
 keeps !” 
 
 Exhausted by long suffering, Elinor sank at last 
 into a deep slumber, and her two attendants resumed 
 their conversation on the dreadful and mysterious event 
 of the preceding evening, and the probable fate of their 
 unfortunate mistress. 
 
 On the former, they were both decidedly agreed that 
 Mr. Levison had been unfairly brought to his end ; but, 
 with regard to Mrs. Levison’s participation in, or know- 
 ledge of the deed, they were quite at variance ; Anne 
 
54 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 persisting' that she was sure she was as innocent of it as 
 herself, while Mrs. Williams, with all the pertinacity of 
 age, industriously brought together every circumstance 
 which could militate against her unhappy mistress. 
 
 The debate grew so warm between them, that their 
 voices insensibly were raised beyond the bounds of pru- 
 dence, and Anne’s triumphant observation 
 
 Besides, it must be plain to you that she does not 
 know he is dead, when she talked just now of his turn- 
 ing her and her children out to starve,” reached the ears 
 of the apparently sleeping Elinor. 
 
 Who is dead ?” she exclaimed, in a tone that made 
 them both start; why do you look at each other 
 without answering me she continued. “ Where is my 
 father ? why does he not come to me ? — But I will know 
 what has happened !” 
 
 She made an attempt to throw herself out of the bed, but 
 was prevented by Anne, who, considering it best, as she 
 observed, to put an end to her suspense, at once informed 
 her that Mr. Levison had been seized with a fit, before he 
 rose from the table, which had, in a short time, termi- 
 nated his existence. 
 
 Elinor stared wildly at her, while she was speaking — 
 Are you sure that is the truth?” she observed, or 
 are you concealing something worse from me ?” 
 
 ‘‘ Worse, Ma’am !” exclaimed Mrs. Williams, angrily; 
 “ what can be worse than the sudden death of your 
 husband ?” 
 
 My husband !” repeated Elinor, — “ true — he was 
 my husband. I ought to mourn for him, but I have so 
 much to mourn for.” 
 
 “ Aye, heaven knows you have cause enough to 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 55 
 
 mourn !” observed the old woman, “ but it is well if this 
 is not the worst cause for mourning that you have yet 
 met with.” 
 
 Elinor looked earnestly at her, but her thoughts 
 seemed wandering to other subjects, and without again 
 adverting to the information she had received respecting 
 Mr. Levisorfs death, she began to talk incoherently of 
 a long journey she was about to take, and the prepara- 
 tions that were necessary for it. 
 
 It was soon very evident, that the agitation of her 
 mind had produced a fever, and about midnight, Anne 
 became so much alarmed, that she judged it proper to 
 call up Mr. Tyrrell. The servant whom she despatched 
 for this purpose, returned, however, after having been 
 a considerable time absent, to say that he found it 
 impossible to rouse that gentleman, or obtain any 
 answer to his repeated calls and knockings, and he was 
 really afraid that something serious had happened. 
 
 Lord preserve us !” exclaimed Anne ; surely he 
 has never made away with himself, from fear that he 
 should be called to account for my poor master’s death.” 
 
 After a few minutes’ consideration, she determined on 
 sending for the butler, who was one of the watchers in 
 the chamber of death. 
 
 Thomas scarcely had patience to hear her out, before 
 he flew to 'Mr. Tyrrell’s room. But all his efforts to ob - 
 tain an answer were in vain, and without further delay he 
 desired some of the servants to fetch the necessary tools 
 to break open the door. 
 
 The order was punctually executed, and in a few mi- 
 nutes they entered, and found the room was empty — ^its 
 late inhabitant was flown. 
 
56 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ’ At first it was supposed Ills absence was intended to be 
 only temporary ; but a further investigation proved that 
 this supposition was not correct, for he had evidently re- 
 moved all that was valuable, and indeed it appeared nearly 
 certain, that his departure could not have been the result 
 of a momentary impulse, but must have been some time 
 in contemplation, or he must have had an assistant, as the 
 whole of his clothes, &c. were gone. 
 
 His secret flight, however, at such a moment, fully 
 confirmed the suspicions even of those who had before 
 been doubtful that he had been accessary to Mr. Levison’s 
 death. 
 
 The first thought that occurred was, that he ought to 
 be pursued ; but second consideration told them, that, 
 without any plea for such a proceeding, except their 
 vague suspicions, it would be hazardous for them to 
 do so. 
 
 “ The coroner will be here in the morning,” observed 
 the butler ; “ and it will be for him to decide what will 
 be proper ; and if he thinks there has been foul play, he 
 will soon send a hue-and-cry after him, that will find him 
 out, if he’s in the country. However, we must keep a 
 strict look-out that she don’t make off, too.” 
 
 “ There is no fear of that, Mr. Thomas,” observed 
 Anne, indignantly; “for I do not believe she will ever 
 quit this house, until she is carried to her grave.” 
 
 For some days Anne’s predictions seemed but too 
 likely to be verified, as Mrs. Levison lingered in a state 
 between life and death ; in the mean time, the investiga- 
 tion into the cause of her husband’s death had terminated 
 in pronouncing that he had died from the effects of poison, 
 suspected to have been administered to him by Martin 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 67 
 
 Tyrrell ; and, in consequence of this decision, a warrant 
 was issued for the apprehension of the latter. 
 
 It cannot be supposed that the wretched Elinor escaped 
 suspicion of being concerned in this dreadful ti’agedy, but 
 her melancholy situation, and the hourly probability of 
 her death, induced those who would, in other circum- 
 stances, have considered it necessary to have included her 
 in the accusation, to decline all inquiry into her conduct 
 for the present. 
 
 In about ten days from the period of Mr. Charles Levi- 
 son’s death, his brother, who had at the time been absent in 
 France, arrived at the Hall, and Anne began to tremble 
 more than ever for her unfortunate mistress, whose dis- 
 order had attained a favourable crisis, and who now 
 seemed likely to recover, only to meet more awful evils 
 than those which had heretofore threatened her. 
 
 Mr. Charles Levison was naturally prone to suspicion, 
 but, even had he not been so, there was, unfortunately, 
 quite sufficient in the reports that reached him respecting 
 his sister-in-law, to awaken in his bosom the utmost hatred 
 and disgust. 
 
 He had never seen her, and therefore her beauty, her 
 youth, the fascination of her manners, and that gentleness 
 and kindness of disposition which in every instance had 
 characterised her, though often dwelt upon by those 
 who spoke of her to him, weighed as nothing in the 
 balance against the crimes of which she was guilty, and 
 he was inexorably resolved to await only her sufficient 
 recovery, in order that he might formally accuse her of 
 being accessary to his brother’s death. 
 
 The two children, for whom a nurse had been pro- 
 vided by Mrs. Williams, from among the wives of the 
 
58 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 cottagers on the estate, were, immediately upon his arri- 
 val, ordered to be taken out of the house, and removed 
 to the house of their attendant, and Mr. Charles Levison 
 made no secret of his intentions towards the imhappy 
 mother, should she survive her disorder. 
 
 Night and day were the thoughts and meditations of 
 the simple and warm-hearted attendant of Elinor em- 
 ployed, in considering the means of enabling her mistress 
 to escape the ignominy and punishment of being commit- 
 ted to a common prison— a fate which she saw, from the 
 moment Elinor showed signs of returning health, too 
 surely awaited her. 
 
 I know that they never can prove her guilty,” she 
 observed, to the only person of whom she dare make a 
 confidant, “ because she is not guilty; and therefore they 
 must acquit her. But she will die of sorrow and shame, 
 if she is brought to public trial — and, then, what will 
 become of her poor children?” 
 
 The person to whom this was addressed, was a young 
 man, the son of a small farmer, who had long been 
 warmly attached to Anne, and was most willing to aid 
 her in any project to serve the unhappy Mrs. Levison, 
 whose kindness and benevolence he had had several op- 
 portunities of witnessing, among the poor in the neigh- 
 bourhood. 
 
 When she regained her recollection, Elinor was not 
 so much surprised as grieved on being informed that her 
 children had been sent away; but, while she trembled 
 whenever she heard the name of Mr. Charles Levison 
 mentioned, and seemed to dread the possibility of seeing 
 him as the greatest evil that could befal her, it was very 
 plain to her anxious attendant that no suspicion of the 
 
THE CxIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 59 
 
 heavy charge which hovered over her, entered her 
 mind. 
 
 The absence of her father she considered as the natural 
 consequence of Mr. Levison’s arrival, for she could not 
 expect he would remain to face the brother of the man 
 whom he had assisted to dishonour and deceive; and that 
 he had neglected to communicate to her his present resi- 
 dence also, did not surprise her ; for she was but too well 
 convinced, from his general conduct towards her, that it 
 would be the last thing that he would think of, to embar- 
 rass himself with any care for her, now that she could no 
 longer be made subservient to his advantage. But by 
 degrees the whole fatal truth was communicated to her, 
 and she beheld with horror the predicament in which she 
 was placed, by his flight. 
 
 The feelings with which Mr. Levison regarded her, 
 were soon no secret; but, instead of reducing her to de- 
 spair, as Anne expected, his obdurate and unjust conduct, 
 as she termed it, seemed to have the effect of rousing all 
 her energies. 
 
 “ Hard-hearted man !” she exclaimed, “ he shall never 
 have the opportunity of triumphing over me !” 
 
 Anne uttered a fervent prayer that he never might. 
 “ But how is it to be avoided, dear lady, unless you 
 could get away from here, without their knowledge? 
 And you are so weak, that you could not walk to the 
 park-gates.” 
 
 And if I could walk to the park-gates,” said Elinor, 
 who saw that something was meant by this observation, 
 more than met the ear, ‘‘ what good is likely to result 
 from such exertion ?” 
 
 With fear and trembling, Anne unfolded a plan which 
 
60 
 
 THE r,IPSY MOTHER. 
 
 had been discussed between her sweetheart William 
 Powell, and herself, though with little hope of being 
 able to eflPect it. 
 
 William was in the habit of passing the gate of Mr. 
 Levison’s park early every Saturday morning, on his 
 way to the next town, with the produce of the farm, to 
 dispose of in the market ; and it had occurred to him and 
 Anne, that could Mrs. Levison reach the spot, and bear 
 the jolting of the cart, he might convey her to the town 
 without much fear of detection. From thence, a coach 
 to London started about the time he would expect to 
 arrive there ; and if she could immediately secure a place 
 in it, she might be almost at her journey’s end before 
 her escape was discovered at the Hall. 
 
 “ And when you are once in London,” said Anne, 
 in conclusion, “ William says you would be safe — for 
 he tells me it is such a great place, and there are so many 
 people there, that nobody takes any notice of strangers, 
 as they do here in the country.” 
 
 Elinor knew that her only chance of concealment 
 certainly would be in the metropolis, but she shuddered 
 at the thoughts of such a journey, in her weak, 
 wretched, and unprotected condition. There was, 
 however, no alternative between this and the disgrace of 
 a prison. 
 
 The prospect seemed to renovate Elinor’s strength 
 hourly, but, in pursuance of their plan, she alFected to 
 be seized with a relapse of her disorder ; and again took 
 to her bed, at such hours as she was likely to be seen 
 by any of the servants, though there was only one or 
 two of them who occasionally supplied Anne’s place 
 for a few minutes — Mrs. Williams never entering tlic 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 61 
 
 room, except when sent by Mr. Levison, to ascertain the 
 state of his intended victim’s health. 
 
 At the hours when freed from the dangers of these 
 visits, Elinor exercised her strength in walking up and 
 down her own and the adjoining room ; and having at 
 length convinced herself and Anne that she was able to 
 reach the appointed spot, she began to make ready for 
 the journey. A change or two of clothes, all the jewels 
 with which Mr. Levison had presented her on her 
 marriage, and nearly fifty pounds, which he had also given 
 her as her first quarter’s private allowance, were packed 
 up, and secretly conveyed by Anne to her lover, on the 
 night preceding the time appointed for the attempt. 
 Several articles of value, and all the remainder of her 
 clothes, she would have given to Anne ; but the poor 
 girl represented to her the danger that would come 
 to her, were they known to be in her possession, and 
 she was, therefore, compelled to leave them, for Mr. 
 Levison to dispose of as he thought proper. 
 
 Every thing favoured the execution of their project. 
 The morning was fine, and not a creature was stirring 
 in the house, when, with trembling steps, the two 
 females stole down the back staircase, and entered the 
 park. Elinor shed torrents of tears as she walked 
 for the last time through the shrubberies, but the tender- 
 hearted Anne supported and consoled her. 
 
 William was in anxious expectation awaiting them, 
 and Elinor, after silently embracing the kind-hearted 
 girl, who uttered a thousand blessings and prayers for 
 her safety, was assisted by her conductor to seat herself 
 on the straw in the bottom of the cart. 
 
 Anne remained gazing after them, until a turning in 
 
62 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 the road ^ hid them from her view, and then hastily 
 returned home, to prepare for the arduous trial that 
 awaited her. 
 
 It cannot be supposed, that, in thus apparently desert- 
 ing her children, and leaving them to the mercy of one 
 who could not be expected to feel much compassion for 
 them, Elinor did not undergo a severe struggle with 
 her feelings ; but Anne had already seen enough of Mr. 
 Levison’s disposition to be convinced, that, vindictive as 
 he felt towards the mother, from the impression which 
 existed in his mind of her enormous guilt, those feelings 
 did not extend to the poor infants, whom he had often 
 spoken of, in terms of the greatest pity. He had also 
 shown himself very solicitous for their comfort, and had 
 had them removed, with their nurse, to a more comfort- 
 able and commodious cottage, and had very liberally 
 provided every thing that Mrs. Williams considered 
 necessary. 
 
 ‘‘ My brother would have done so, I am convinced, 
 if he had lived,” he observed, ‘‘ and I will act as he 
 would have done,” was his reply to Mrs, Williams, 
 when she observed that there was no need to go to any 
 great expense. ^ 
 
 If he would do so much, while intending nothing 
 but the bitterest revenge against the mother,” argued 
 Anne, “ there could be no fear but he would continue to 
 provide for them, when she was gone.’’ 
 
 Anne was no great casuist, but her arguments, added 
 to the necessity of the case, prevailed, and Elinor, as wc 
 have seen, left her children to Mr. Levison’s charity. 
 
 She did not, however, do this without forming a 
 reserve in her own mind, that time and fortune might 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 6.S 
 
 enable her, if she lived, at some future period to reclaim 
 them ; and that expectation, as well as the desire 
 to make, if possible, an impression on Mr. Levison’s 
 mind in her favour, induced her to pass the last day of 
 her residence under the same roof with him, in writing- a 
 full and unvarnished narrative of the events that had led 
 to her present degradation and misery. 
 
 This she enclosed, and left directed for him on her 
 dressing-table. 
 
 From that period, neither the unhappy Elinor or her 
 father was ever heard of in Cumberland. 
 
 Mr. Levison’s rage, at finding she had escaped his 
 meditated vengeance, was at first most violent; and 
 Anne, with all her imaginary prudence and precaution, 
 became immediately the object of his suspicions. 
 
 Terrified by his threats, that she should be immediately 
 committed to prison, and tried as an accessary, unless she 
 confessed how long her mistress had been absent, and 
 where she was concealed, the poor girl at length 
 acknowledged that she had been gone ever since the 
 preceding morning, and she believed had proceeded by 
 the mail to London ; but, though she confessed that she 
 had seen her as far as the gate of the domain, neither 
 promises nor threats could draw from her any farthei* 
 clue; and Mr. Levison considering this account as 
 untrue, and not believing it possible that one, who had 
 been represented to him as little removed from a dying 
 state, could have attempted such a journey, renounced all 
 attempt at pursuit in the direction pointed out, and con- 
 tented himself with having the strictest search made in 
 the neighbourhood, in which he judged she was for the 
 present concealed. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 CA 
 
 We need not say how fruitless this search proved, but 
 it will perhaps a little surprise our readers to learn, that 
 no one, not even Anne herself, so much rejoiced at the 
 unhappy woman’s escape, as Mr. Levison. 
 
 The fact, however, was, that the pathetic narrative 
 she had addressed to him, had totally changed his feel- 
 ings towards her; and though he felt the policy of con- 
 cealing it from the world, he would have sacrificed half 
 his fortune, to have been able to have shielded and pro- 
 tected her from the perils and miseries to which he felt 
 she must be exposed. 
 
 To Anne alone, whose fidelity to her unfortunate 
 mistress had exalted her in his eyes beyond all praise, he 
 candidly avowed these sentiments ; and, while the warm- 
 hearted girl took credit to herself for her judgment m 
 having always believed Elinor to have been innocent 
 of intentional and premeditated crime, he listened 
 patiently to her reproaches for having, by his severity, 
 driven the poor creature forth a wanderer on the face of 
 the earth. 
 
 It was a matter of no little wonder and speculation, 
 among not only her fellow domestics, but many of a 
 higher class, that when, about twelve months after these 
 tragical events, Anne thought fit to reward the constancy 
 of her sweetheart, William Powell, with her fair hand, 
 Mr. Levison not only put him into a good farm, but 
 furnished the house for them, and gave aivay the bride 
 himself; and still more surprising it appeared, that he 
 seemed by no means displeased at finding that Anne 
 still continued to display her attachment to her late 
 mistress, by the fondest and most unwearied attention 
 to the children whom she had left behind. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 65 
 
 Elinor and William Tyrrell, for so they were called, 
 (the first names having been given to them by Anne, and 
 the second appropriated to them by apparently common 
 consent,) were two lovely children ; nor did Mr. Levison 
 gaze on them with the less interest, when, as was often 
 the case, he casually beheld them at the house of William 
 Powell, because Anne would minutely point out the re- 
 semblance which each of them bore to their unfortunate 
 mother. 
 
 ‘‘ William,” she would say, has exactly her fine black 
 eyes and hair, and clear complexion ; and Elinor, though 
 she is different in most respects, has her very mouth 
 and teeth, and that lovely smile, which used to make my 
 heart glad when I beheld it. Poor thing, she seldom 
 
 smiled after but I won’t talk of old times ! Heaven 
 
 grant that they may be happier than their poor mother ! 
 but, somehow, I often sit and think what a dismal thing 
 it will be, when they grow up, to hear that ” 
 
 ‘‘ They shall never hear it, if I can prevent it,” inter- 
 rupted Mr. Levison. “ Do not ask me what I mean to 
 do, Anne, for perhaps it will only grieve you ; though, as 
 you will soon have a family of your own, the loss of these 
 infimts will not be much felt ; and you may be sure 1 
 will always do that which will promote their benefit.” 
 
 Time, however, passed on, until the children had 
 readied their third year, before Mr. Levison made any 
 further declaration of his intentions, and Anne never 
 dared to interrogate him on the subject: for although he 
 had a heart replete with humanity and kindness towards 
 his fellow creatures, Mr. Levison was always positive, 
 and sometimes harsh and repulsive in his manners. 
 
 Anne, however, possessed great influence over him, 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHEPt 
 
 because lie valued her as she deserved to be valued : but 
 he never forgot the difference of their stations in life, and 
 Anne’s natural good sense prevented her from ever 
 trespassing upon the bounds of his pride. 
 
 From the time of his first settling in his patrimonial 
 estate, under such peculiarly melancholy circumstances, 
 Mr. Charles Levison had nearly altogether secluded himself 
 from the world — but he could not bring himself to feel 
 entirely independent of that world’s opinion ; and by va- 
 rious circumstances he was informed that his patronising, 
 and even seeming to regard with affection, the poor chil- 
 dren, whose birth had entailed on them only infamy and 
 disgrace, gave rise to many unpleasant and bitter animad- 
 versions among' those whom his pride and reserve had 
 displeased. Once, too, he was reminded that those very 
 children were, by law, considered the children of his bro- 
 ther ; and, as such, might hereafter be induced to prefer 
 claims, which it might be difficult to adjust to his satisfac- 
 tion ; and, in short, the whole affair, so far from dying 
 away in the remembrance of those ith whom he was 
 partially connected, was so constantly brought forward, 
 and gave rise to so many unpleasant reflections, that Mr. 
 Levison at length felt his abode in the country very irk- 
 some, and accordingly made known his intention of re- 
 suming his continental tour, which his brother’s death had 
 interrupted. 
 
 And the children ?” said Anne, in an apprehensive 
 tone. 
 
 “ Idle children I shall remove to another part of the 
 country, where their unhappy history is unknoAvn,” he 
 replied ; “ and of this be assured, I will not only take 
 care of them while I live — but, after my death, they will 
 be amply provided for,” 
 
Drawn kEna by M EbeyaDcr 
 
 She had now a little gill of her own 
 v/honx she had also called Fdinoi'." 
 
 />y V/rf/o . ’//is '.Xri'th/i/n^t/ir X^tuu'/ 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 67 
 
 Anne dared not remonstrate against this decision ; and 
 as she had now a little girl of her own, whom she had 
 also called Elinor, and in whose round chubby face she 
 would fancy there was as strong a resemblance to her 
 lamented mistress, as existed in either of the orphans, she 
 was, perhaps, the more easily reconciled to parting with 
 her really living portraits. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The storm that wrecks the wintry sky, 
 
 No more disturbs their sweet repose 
 Than summer evening’s latest sigh 
 
 That shuts the rose. Monigomkry. 
 
 Mr. Levison’s intended departure from Cumberland 
 was now publicly spoken of, and conjecture was busy as 
 to what he intended to do with the children. Few cre- 
 dited his real goodness of heart — still fewer believed him 
 a man likely to act with romantic generosity — and it was 
 confidently predicted that his extraordinary attention to 
 them would soon cease, when they were far removed from 
 him. 
 
 But, before these busy conjectures were set at rest, an 
 event .took place, which superseded for a time all other 
 topics of conversation, and made the poor children still 
 greater objects of interest and attention than ever. 
 
 The two little ones had strayed together, as was often 
 the case, to some distance from the cottage-door in 
 which they had been reared. Their nurse, occupied in 
 preparing breakfast for them and her husband, had not. 
 
OS 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 it appeared, for some time missed them ; but when at 
 length she sought them in their usual haunts, they were 
 not to be found. 
 
 For hours she continued her terrified inquiries in all 
 directions, and at length, in utter despair, she tlew to the 
 Hall, to communicate her doleful tidings. 
 
 Scarcely could Mr. Levison have discovered greater 
 agitation had they been his own children, than he did 
 on this occasion. Flis servants were sent out in every 
 direction : William Powell’s farm was deserted by all but 
 Anne, whose child was ill, and who was therefore con- 
 strained, though much against her inclination, to remain 
 at home ; but, in spite of all their exertions, the night 
 passed away, without any certain tidings of the children, 
 and Mr. Levison was in despair. 
 
 It was discovered, however, that a gang of gipsies 
 had been for some days encamped at a few miles distance, 
 and they immediately became objects of suspicion. 
 
 With difficulty, William Powell succeeded in tracing 
 the direction they had taken, on breaking up their en- 
 campment that morning ; and at length he overtook them. 
 But the children were not with them, nor were any of 
 their members absent, except one woman, whom they had 
 left, they said, lying dangerously ill in a cottage on their 
 road. 
 
 Wearied and dispirited, Powell returned some hours 
 after day-break, to communicate the failure of his inqui- 
 ries. He at first intended to go straight to the Flail, but 
 his own house was only a few yards out of the direct road, 
 and he could not resist the temptation of' calling there 
 first. 
 
 The voice of Anne, uttering varied exclamations of 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 60 
 
 surprise, joy, and regret, struck his ear as he alighted; 
 and lie entered to behold Anne wondering, weeping-, and 
 rejoicing by turns over the two children, who seemed 
 scarcely to know whether they should laugh or cry Avitli 
 her. 
 
 The only information respecting them which Powell 
 could procure from his wife was, that she had been 
 roused from a half slumber, which had overtaken her 
 after sitting all night with her own child in her lap, by a 
 voice, which seemed familiar to her ear, calling “Anne!’^ 
 but that, on going to the door, she could discover no- 
 body but the two children, who seemed heartily rejoiced 
 to see her, but refused to come in without some person 
 Avhom they kept looking about for, but did not know 
 how to name. 
 
 She told us she would come back with more straw- 
 berries,” said William, ‘‘and I know she will — for she 
 is not a story-teller.” 
 
 After waiting some time, however, at the door, they 
 became convinced that their friend had really deserted 
 them, and at last reluctantly consented to come into the 
 house. 
 
 By questioning them, Anne had learned that it was “a 
 pretty good woman,” who said her name was Elinor, as 
 -well as the little girl’s, and who had given them nice 
 cakes, and bread and milk, and had talked about their 
 “ Aunty Anne,” a title which Anne had fondly taught 
 them to give her. 
 
 This information excited a deep interest in the breast 
 of the affectionate Anne, and bitterly did she regret 
 that the unfortunate mother, for she did not for a 
 moment doubt that it was her that the children had 
 
70 
 
 THE GirSY MOTHER. 
 
 seen, had not had sufficient confidence in her fidelity, 
 and come openly to the house. 
 
 I should have been satisfied and happy, if I could only 
 have once more seen her, and have known that she was 
 doing well,” she observed; “and I should have been so 
 glad to have told her that Mr. Levison, whom she so 
 much feared, pitied her, and was convinced of her inno- 
 cence; and I know, too, that he would have been re- 
 joiced to have told her so himself, and would have 
 assisted her — and, poor thing, who can tell but she stands 
 in need of assistance. The little she carried from here, 
 must have been long ago spent.” 
 
 Powell, however, was not of the same opinion as his 
 wife. He thought that her taking the journey to see her 
 children, as she must, in all probability, have come a 
 considerable distance, was a convincing proof that she 
 was tolerably comfortable in her circumstances. 
 
 “And who knows, Anne,” he continued, “perhaps 
 she is married again, and may have her reasons for keep- 
 ing altogether out of the way of any body that has known 
 her before.” 
 
 Anne, however, would not believe that Mrs. Levison 
 would ever marry again, and still less under any circum- 
 stances of deception; but it was of little use, they ob- 
 served, to make themselves uneasy by speculating upon 
 a subject on which they could not hope to gain any in- 
 formation, and Powell, having learned all he could from 
 the children, set off without delay to the Hall, to com- 
 municate to Mr. Levison what had occurred. 
 
 Mr. Levison was at once surprised and grieved. From 
 the time that he had read the unvarnished tale which had 
 made him acquainted with the sorrows and sufferings of 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ri 
 
 Elinor, he had anxiously longed to behold her; and he 
 heard, with feelings of the utmost vexation and impa- 
 tience, how near he had been to the attainment of this 
 wish, without accomplishing it. Every endeavour, how- 
 ever, to obtain intelligence of the person who had thus 
 given rise to so much alarm and conjecture, was in vain; 
 and Mr. Levison was at length obliged most reluctantly 
 to relinquish all hope of ever seeing the unfortunate 
 female who had excited such deep interest in his bosom. 
 
 About three months after this incident, he quitted his 
 paternal mansion, the children having been previously 
 sent off, under the care of their nurse, to be placed (as 
 he alleged) under the superintendance of a respectable 
 woman, in a sea-port town in a distant county, in order 
 that they might be brought up with, and receive the same 
 education, as her own family. None of Mr. Levison’s 
 old servants accompanied him, but remained at the Hall, 
 it being his avowed intention to return thither at no very 
 distant period, and pass the remainder of his life there. 
 
 Before, however, he quitted England, an event oc- 
 curred, which made a considerable alteration in his inten- 
 tions, and induced him to delay his departure for some 
 months. He received intelligence that his younger bro- 
 ther, who had for some years been a resident in India, 
 had died on his passage to England, whither he was 
 returning to establish his health, accompanied by his 
 only child, but a few years old, and who was now the pre- 
 sumptive heir to the name and estates of the Levison 
 family. The mother of this child had died in child-birth, 
 and Mr. Charles Levison, whose name he bore, was now 
 left his sole guardian and protector. 
 
 Mr. Levison was at first undecided whether he would 
 
12 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHEll. 
 
 not at once give up liis intention of making a foreign 
 tour; but be had some strong reasons for wishing to re- 
 visit Switzerland, and, as the health of his nephew was 
 very delicate, and the physicians had declared that it 
 would probably be improved by travelling, he at length 
 resolved on pursuing liis original plan ; and, accordingly, 
 a few weeks after the arrival of the child in England, he 
 again quitted it with his uncle. 
 
 Contrary to the expectations of the feAv who were in- 
 terested in his welfare, Mr. Levison remained abroad 
 several years. The remembrance of the strange occur- 
 rences at Levison Hall, which bad given rise to so much 
 talk and conjecture at the time, gradually died away, and 
 the name of Tyrrell was almost forgotten, except by the 
 old domestics at the Hall, and William Powell and his 
 wife, with whom it sometimes formed a subject of con- 
 versation by their hre-side. 
 
 Anne was now the mother of a fine family, yet she 
 never forgot the two deserted infants of her unfortu- 
 nate mistress; and often felt uneasy at not having ever 
 heard of them, from the time that Mr. Levison quitted 
 England, at which period he wrote to assure her that he 
 had seen her two little favourites, William and Elinor, 
 and that they were well and happy in their new establish- 
 ments 
 
 It was about seven years after this, and a few months 
 only before Mr. Levison’s return to his estate, that 
 William Powell had occasion to go into Dorsetshire, to 
 receive, a legacy from a distant relation, 'and Anne 
 learned with pleasure that he would have to pass witliin 
 a few miles of the place where the children had been 
 placed ])y Mr, Levison. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTIIEP. 
 
 73 
 
 I would go to see them, if it were twenty miles out 
 of my way,” observed William; if it were only to 
 make your mind easy.” 
 
 Having, therefore, got as clear a direction as he could 
 from the nurse, who had been sent back, after remaining 
 there a few weeks, till the children became habituated to 
 their new residence, William commenced his journey, 
 promising to write to his wife, the moment he reached 
 his journey’s end, and had seen the objects of her care 
 and anxiety. 
 
 Anne, however, was doomed to disappointment; for 
 William wrote only to say, that, after the strictest 
 search, he could discover no traces of the person to 
 whose charge the children had been committed. There 
 were a few persons in the neighbourhood, who recol- 
 lected a woman of that name (Davenport), and her 
 family, having been resident there for a short time; but 
 they knew nothing of her connexions, or to what place 
 she went when she left there; and, most unwillingly, 
 Powell was obliged to return, without gaining any 
 further information. 
 
 “ They are the children 'of mystery altogether,” ob- 
 served the steward, to whom Anne communicated her 
 disappointment ; but should Mr. Levison return, as I 
 have reason to think he will, shortly, your mind will be 
 set at rest.” 
 
 Mr. Levison did return, as we have said before, in a 
 few months; and Anne, full of anxiety and anticipation, 
 accompanied her husband to the Hall, in order, with 
 the rest of the tenants, to receive and welcome their 
 master. 
 
 Orders had been rccci^uHl at the Hall, to prepare for 
 
74 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 the reception of Mr. Levisoii’s nephew, his tutor, and 
 three visitors, besides several additional servants. 
 
 Anne’s surprise, however, was excessive when the car- 
 riage which contained the visitors drew up, and she helield 
 that two out of the three were children — the one a boy, 
 and the other a girl — and precisely of the same age as 
 those whom she was so anxious about. 
 
 It must be them,” she whispered to her husband, 
 
 who else can they be?” 
 
 William was of the same opinion — but they were 
 doomed to disappointment. Mr. Levison, as soon as he 
 recognised Anne and her husband, greeted them with 
 great kindness ; but he did not, or would not understand 
 the anxious looks which Anne threw, from time to time, 
 towards the young visitors, who stood, with an elderly 
 lady, at some distance. 
 
 It was not till they were seated with the other 
 tenants, at the festive hoard which was provided for the 
 occasion, that Anne learned who the objects of her solici- 
 tude Avere. 
 
 “ The young lady,” said the butler, is my master’s 
 daughter — the boy, an orphan of fortune, bequeathed to 
 his care by his parents.” 
 
 “ His daughter !” repeated Anne ; has Mr. Levison, 
 then, been married ?” 
 
 That does not always folloAv, Mrs. Powell,” returned 
 old Thomas, smiling, “ nor have we any business to 
 trouble ourselves about it. All I can tell you is, that the 
 pretty creature is called Miss Fanny Levison, and that 
 she calls my master, papa.” 
 
 And what is the boy’s iicime?” said Anne, in a tone 
 of vexation and disappointment. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 75 
 
 “ His name — his name — I cannot remember it — it is 
 a strange, outlandish sort of a name; — but here comes 
 Mr. Osborne, and he will recollect it.” 
 
 From Mr. Osborne, the steward, Anne learned that 
 the young stranger was called Denzil Montgomery, and 
 though cruelly disappointed with the information she had 
 received, she was obliged to defer satisfying her impatience 
 to know what was become of Elinor’s children, until Mr. 
 Levison should introduce the subject himself. 
 
 It was some time before this opportunity occurred, 
 and then Anne learned, with more surprise than sorrow, 
 that the children were both dead ! 
 
 Mr. Levison said that he could give her very little 
 information on the subject; but they had died nearly 
 together, soon after he left England. 
 
 “ I certainly ought not to fret,” said Anne, wiping 
 away her tears, “ for I know they are better off than 
 they could be in this world — but yet, they were two 
 such lovely creatures, and they would now have been, I 
 dare say, as tall and 
 
 ‘‘ Yes, they were about the same age as Denzil 
 and Fanny,” said Mr. Levison, hastily interrupting 
 her. 
 
 And that young lady, then, is your daughter, sir ?” 
 said Anne, looking at Fanny, who, with her two bro- 
 thers, as she called Charles Levison and Denzil, was 
 walking on the terrace before the windows, at which 
 Anne was standing with Mr. Levison. 
 
 “ Yes, she is my daughter,” replied Mr. Levison, a 
 slight flush crossing his cheek, and that is my nephew,” 
 he continued, pointing to Charles; you would scarcely 
 think he is two years older than his companions, who 
 
76 
 
 THK GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 are both of the same ag-e, or at least there is onl}^ a few 
 weeks difference between them.” 
 
 Anne remained silent. There were suspicions in her 
 mind, which she scarcely knew how to define to herself; 
 and as she earnestly gazed first at one and then at the other, 
 she endeavoured to trace some resemblance to the two 
 children whose images were so indelibly impressed on her 
 mind. 
 
 Elinor’s hair was a great deal lighter, certainly, and 
 her face and form different from those of the pretty deli- 
 cate girl, to whom she had been so much attached ; “ and 
 I could never have thought that William, though he was 
 a fine black-eyed boy, would ever have been half so 
 handsome as that noble, elegant youth,” she murmured 
 to herself ; “ and yet it is strange — exactly the same age, 
 and we never heard a word about Mr. Levison’s having 
 a daughter !” 
 
 The more she refiected, the more convinced Anne 
 became, in her own mind, that Mr. Levison Avas deceiv- 
 ing her, and that these Avere the identical children whose 
 loss she regretted ; but though she persuaded herself that 
 she had made this discover}^, she could bring’ no one else 
 to give any credit to the idea. The steAvard, Mr. 
 Osborne, laughed at her, Avhen she at length, by her hints, 
 made him comprehend Avhat she believed ; and her hus- 
 band very seriously reproved her for indulging such idle 
 romantic fancies, Avhich he predicted Avould infallibly 
 bring her into disgrace Avith Mr. Levison, should it 
 reach his ears. 
 
 Anne, hoAvever, Avith the usual pertinacity of her sox, 
 still clung to the idea she had formed ; and though she 
 had prudence enough to confine her secret to her oavii 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 bosom, she never relinquished the conviction that Fanny 
 Levison and Denzil Montgomery were brother and 
 sister. 
 
 Whether she would have continued this prudent 
 reserve, after the parties grew up to man’s estate,” and 
 when it became pretty evident to all but Mr. Levison, 
 who never seemed to dream of the possibility of such an 
 event, that they regarded each other with very different 
 feelings to those of fraternal affection — must remain a 
 matter of doubt; for, before that period, poor Anne, to 
 the inestimable grief and loss of her family, was conveyed 
 to the grave, and with her was buried all probability of 
 such a suspicion being infused into the minds of those who 
 were the objects of it. 
 
 The elderly lady, whom we mentioned as having 
 accompanied Mr. Levison on his return to Levison Hall, 
 was a maiden sister, who had long been estranged from 
 him, on account of the gaieties in which he had, up to the 
 period of his brother’s death, indulged. 
 
 The manner in which the latter, Mr. Alfred Levison, 
 had lived at the Hall, had been as little consonant to her 
 inclinations and habits, and she had therefore chiefly 
 resided in a distant part of the country ; but upon her 
 brother Charles returning to settle for life with the three 
 children, and her being convinced that he had in reality 
 renounced his former follies, and become a complete 
 domestic man, she consented to take up her residence 
 with him, and preside as mistress of the Hall. 
 
 Mrs. Powell was a great favourite with Miss Rachel, 
 for so the old lady was called, though she had long 
 passed the period when it would have been decorous to 
 have assumed a more matronly title ; and dui’ing Aitue’s 
 
78 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 last illness, long and frequent conversations had been 
 held between them, of which the unhappy Elinor and 
 her children had been the theme ; but Mrs. Powell soon 
 discovered, that, if there was any deception practised, 
 the old lady was not a partaker of it, and she never, 
 therefore, ventured to hint lier suspicions. 
 
 In perfect unconsciousness of any mystery existing 
 respecting tliem, Fanny Levison and Denzil Montgomery 
 grew together, until they had attained the age of 
 eighteen; at which period, under the care of their pro- 
 tectors, they, for the first time, visited London: and 
 where, a very short time after their arrival, Denzil met 
 with the adventure which we have recorded in our first 
 chapter, and which effectually destroyed the visions of 
 happiness in which he had for some time been accustomed 
 to indulge. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Tis sweet to watch Affection’s eye, 
 
 To mark the tear Avith love replete, 
 
 To feel the softly-breathing sigh, 
 
 When Friendship’s lips the tones repeat. 
 
 Mitford, 
 
 Denzil, on leaving Fanny, retired to his own room ; 
 but it Avas in vain that he sought, by recalling every 
 circumstance connected with the adventure of the pre- 
 ceding evening, to convince himself of what he devoutly 
 wished, and Charles had roundly asserted, namely, that 
 the whole Avas an attempt to impose upon his credulity, 
 and take advantage of his ignorance of the Avorld. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 79 
 
 The more, indeed, he reflected, the more he became 
 convinced that the man and woman he had seen, were 
 persons who, by some means, were in possession of 
 secrets respecting himself, which he would have given 
 worlds to have had elucidated. 
 
 He had hitherto been perfectly satisfied with the ac- 
 count Mr. Levison had given him of his birth and pros- 
 pects in life. He had stated, that he (Denzil) was the 
 son of an officer in the army, who had died abroad, and 
 that his mother had not long survived him. Mr. Levison 
 believed, he said, that it had been what the world called 
 an imprudent marriage, for Mrs. Montgomery appeared 
 to have neither friend nor connexion, when he had met 
 with her, residing in a boarding-house at Lausanne, in 
 Switzerland, where she had died, leaving her child to his 
 care and guardianship. 
 
 ‘‘ Then I am entirely indebted to your benevolence, 
 sir, for my support,” replied Denzil, colouring with agi- 
 tation, when this detail was given him, which was when 
 he was about the age of sixteen, and when he first began 
 to think that it would bo quite impossible for him to 
 be happy, if Fanny Levison did not share that hap- 
 piness. 
 
 ‘‘ You are very hasty, Mr. Denzil Montgomery,” re- 
 plied Mr. Levison, in his usual dry and deliberate way, 
 when he felt oflended ; very hasty, indeed, sir — but if 
 you would' just allow me to go on without interruption, 
 
 I would tell you, that, though left friendless, you were 
 not left destitute of that which will always secure you 
 the friendship of the world. I need not now mention 
 the sum Avhich will be yours, when you become capable, 
 by law, of taking your affairs into your own hands j but 
 
80 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 I will tell you, that it will secure you from any fear of 
 wanting bread and cheese.” 
 
 Denzil knew enough of Mr. Levison’s odd method of 
 expressing himself, to he quite satisfied with this expla- 
 nation, as to his future prospects; and as to the rest of 
 the affair, no doubt of its correctness intruded upon his 
 mind. He therefore felt no surprise that Mr. Levison 
 never spoke of his father or mother, since the one, it ap- 
 peared, was entirely unknown to him, and his acquaint- 
 ance with the other, was limited to a knowledge of her 
 misfortunes and premature death. 
 
 Denzil, though hasty and impetuous, was reflective and 
 considerate. He saw immediately how great were his 
 obligations to Mr. Levison, who ever treated and consi- 
 dered him exactly in the same light as his own nephew 
 and heir; and he would never, therefore, suffer himself 
 to be betrayed even into a laugh at the weaknesses and 
 eccentricities of his benefactor. 
 
 The solemn warning he had received, however, nov/ 
 gave rise to a train of reflections on the circumstances 
 which Mr. Levison had communicated, which served 
 only still farther to confirm the impression it had made. 
 
 “ It is improbable,” he thought, that were I the 
 child of parents of respectable birth, and possessed, too, 
 of a competent fortune, there should not be some one to 
 whom my existence and welfare would be of some im- 
 portance ; and is it likely that my mother should choose 
 rather to confide her child to the care of an entire stran- 
 ger, and one too of whom she had seen so little, since 
 she must have been an invalid during the whole of the 
 short period that he was residing in the same house with 
 her? Yet, if I am the same age as Fanny — and how 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 81 
 
 often he has repeated that — Oh, God ! what would I not 
 give, to he assured that he has spoken truth in all that 
 he has told me — and yet her mother, too, died at Lau- 
 sanne ! Well do I remember the agitation — the deep 
 emotion he betrayed when his favourite, Mrs. Powell, 
 was buried, and we were about to join her children in 
 the funeral procession — ‘ Papa,’ said Fanny, with the 
 tears standing in her beautiful eyes, ‘ where was my mo- 
 ther buried ? — you have never told me, and it would be 
 some comfort to see even her grave.’ Well do I recol- 
 lect the faltering voice and varying colour with which 
 he replied, ‘ That is a comfort, my child, which I as Avell 
 as you are denied — your mother’s grave is many, many 
 miles from this place — the sea rolls between it and us. 1 
 have told you before, Fanny, that you were born at 
 
 Lausanne, and it is there ’ He could not finish the 
 
 sentence, and I interfered to draw his attention from it. 
 Yet he spoke to me of my mother’s death, without ap- 
 pearing to feel any emotion. It cannot be that I am his 
 son, for what motive covdd he have for concealing it, 
 
 since he has acknowledged but no, I will not, I cannot 
 
 believe it !” 
 
 Though determined not to believe it, Denzil could not 
 shake off the impression that had been made upon his 
 mind, and when the dinner-bell rang, he felt himself so 
 unequal to the task of meeting the object of his affection, 
 that he pleaded a severe head-ache, as an excuse for re- 
 maining in his own room. 
 
 ‘‘ Aye, aye, this is the effect of his last night’s 
 frolic !” observed Mr. Levison ; but it is no matter 
 what he suffers — it will teach him, I hope, to be a 
 little more cautious. Does he know that Fanny is ill 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 through your folly, he continued, addressing himself to 
 Charles. 
 
 I do not know, sir — I have not seen him, for I have 
 been asleep, till within this half hour.” 
 
 “ A very pretty avowal for a young man to make — 
 then you may add to your catalogue another day lost,” 
 observed Mr. Levison, who was now completely out of 
 humour, at the absence of those in whose society he took 
 so much delight. The dinner was found fault with, the 
 servants were scolded, and poor aunt Rachel sat in com- 
 plete fidgets, until the cloth was removed, and she was at 
 liberty to retire. 
 
 And pray, young man,” said Mr. Levison, when he 
 was left alone with his nepheiv, pray, may I be allowed 
 to ask you, what was the violent temptation that induced 
 you and your companion to risk your safety in the streets 
 of London, at such an hour — to say nothing of risking 
 my displeasure?” 
 
 Indeed, uncle, it was no temptation,” returned 
 Charles ; “ but Denzil had made an appointment that I 
 considered it dangerous for him to attend alone, and 
 therefore I went with him.” 
 
 “ An appointment !” repeated j\Ir. Levison; an 
 appointment ! and with whom can Denzil have already 
 formed a connexion, that he dare ” 
 
 ‘‘ I have given my word of honour, sir, that I will 
 not mention what or who it was tliat took us out, and I 
 am sure you would not like me to forfeit it,” said 
 Charles. 
 
 “ Certainly not — certainly not,” replied his uncle, 
 hastily, but I shall take upon myself to let Mr. Denzil 
 Montgomery know that he is in the high road to 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 83 
 
 ruin, and that I will not sutFer him to disgrace either 
 
 himself or me, by 1 know too well, Charles, the 
 
 misery which young men often entail, not only on them- 
 selves, but others, and ” 
 
 “ You mistake, indeed, uncle,” interrupted Charles ; 
 “ you think it was a female, but I assure you, you are 
 wrong; for Denzil is not likely to form any connexion 
 of the kind you mean. It was only some scheme to get 
 a little more money out of him than could be done by 
 the common method of asking charity; but it failed, 
 I suppose, in consequence of my being present, and I 
 dare say the attempt will not be renewed.” 
 
 Mr. Levison seemed astonished, and remained for some 
 minutes lost in thought. “ It was not a female, you 
 say ?” he at length observed. “ I do not wish to tempt 
 you, Charles, to forfeit your word — but this may be of 
 more importance to Denzil than you can form any idea 
 of. It failed, you say, because you were present — I 
 shall not say a word more on the subject to Denzil; but, 
 I beg, if you value his happiness, that you will keep a 
 strict watch, and if any further attempt is made, avoid 
 pledging yourself to secrecy, and let me know what is 
 passing. I have a suspicion — a strong suspicion — and yet 
 
 I do not know how it is possible ” 
 
 Again he was silent, and seemed lost in thought. 
 
 - “ This is one of my uncle’s mysteries, in which he so 
 much delights,” — thought Charles; “however, I will 
 certainly do as he tells me — for Denzil is such a hot- 
 brained, romantic fellow, that he is likely enough to get 
 into some scrape, if he is left to himself.” 
 
 And you did not, then, see any female?” said Mr 
 Levison, after a long pause. 
 
84 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ No — I do not remember to have noticed any — 
 except, indeed,” suddenly recollecting himself, “ a gipsy 
 woman, who wanted, I believe, to tell our fortunes, and 
 to whom Denzil, 1 think, was foolish enough to give 
 some silver.” 
 
 Mr. Levison struck his hand with such violence on 
 the table, that Charles started. 
 
 ‘‘ It is the very person !” he exclaimed. ‘‘ I would 
 
 wager my life, it is she — but how could she she can 
 
 only suspect, at most, and I will take care she shall 
 
 not 1 would give a hundred pounds, Charles, to see 
 
 that woman !” 
 
 “ Indeed, uncle, you are in error,” said Charles, sur- 
 prised at the incoherence of his manner, and the agitation 
 he betrayed. This was (|uite a common beggar- 
 woman, with flowers, I think, in her hand to sell — and 
 had no connexion with the person Denzil went to meet.” 
 
 “ You know nothing about it, boy ! you know 
 nothing about it ! It is all a plan, a scheme, and should 
 it succeed, Denzil is ruined. I wish I had never come to 
 London ! ' It has always been fatal to me — but do not 
 breathe a word of all this to Fanny, nor Denzil, and I 
 charge you not to let him suspect that I know any thing' 
 more than what you told me in his presence.” 
 
 Charles readily promised this, and indeed he had his 
 own motives for concealing what had passed between 
 him and his uncle ; for he knew Denzil would be angry 
 with him for having said so much, and he firmly believed 
 that his uncle’s important suspicions and warnings would 
 turn out to be founded in mere nonsense, and therefore 
 were not worth troubling his head about. 
 
 The family did not all meet togetlier, till the following 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHElt. 
 
 85 
 
 morning, at breakfast. Fanny looked pale, but professed 
 to be perfectly recovered, and seemed in more than her 
 usual spirits, while Denzil tried to appear as if nothing 
 extraordinary had occurred to disturb him. 
 
 It was very evident, however, to Mr. Levison, who 
 kept a scrutinising eye upon him, that his ward was more 
 than usually thoughtful and uneasy; and he saw, too, 
 that Fanny was cooler than usual in her manner towards 
 him. 
 
 ‘‘ We are all very dull, this morning, I think,” he 
 observed ; suppose we order the carriage— I think I 
 am well enough to bear a drive round the Parks, and the 
 lads can have their horses ; or, perhaps, Fanny would 
 rather ride with them, than go in the coach witli us old 
 folks.” 
 
 Oh, no, papa — I would rather be with you and my 
 aunt,” said Fanny, eagerly. 
 
 Denzil coloured, but oifered no opposition, and the 
 carriage and the horses were ordered. 
 
 ‘‘ What has happened between you and Denzil, my 
 dear?” said Mr. Levison, as soon as his daugliter and him- 
 self (Miss Rachel having declined accompanying them) 
 were seated in the carriage. 
 
 Nothing, indeed, dear papa — nothing, I assure you,” 
 replied Fanny, blushing. 
 
 He has not made you the confidant of his midnight 
 adventure, has he?” demanded her father, looking 
 earnestly in her face. 
 
 No, indeed,” returned Fanny, with surprise, “ nor 
 should I seek to know it — for it has evidently had no 
 good effect upon him.” 
 
 I do not think it has, indeed,” said Mr. Levison, 
 
8() THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 flrily, “ but I would not have you notice it, my dear — 
 it will only make matters worse.’’ 
 
 During; the whole time they were out, Denzil was 
 melancholy and absent, and Mr- Levison observed that 
 he was constantly glancing around, as if in expectation of 
 seeing some one. 
 
 It seemed, however, as if no one appeared whom he 
 expected to see, and they commenced their return home 
 to dinner. 
 
 On turning the corner of St. James’s Street, Denzil 
 lingered for a moment behind his companions, and as he 
 glanced casually around, he observed a man walking 
 slowly along the pavement, whose figure he thought 
 strongly resembled that of the man whom he was so 
 anxious to see again. 
 
 Determined to be convinced, he reined in his horse, 
 and approached close to the pavement. At that moment 
 Mr. Levison, who had missed him fi'om the side of the 
 carriage, put his head out to look for him, and the man 
 suddenly raised his eyes, which were before fixed on the 
 earth. The moment he beheld Mr. Levison, he turned 
 suddenly round, and darted away in a contrary direction 
 from that in which he was before going. 
 
 Denzil saw this, and observed, too, the look with 
 which Mr. Levison regarded him, and without a moment’s 
 hesitation he threw himself from his horse and was 
 about to follow him, when he was arrested by Mr. Levi- 
 son’s desiring him to stop. 
 
 Habituated to attend instantly to his commands, Denzil 
 turned to speak to Mr. Levison, and the man was gone. 
 
 “ Where in the world were you hurrying to, Denzil ?” 
 inquired Mr. Levison. 
 
THE GIPSY 310THEH. 
 
 87 
 
 Deiizil looked confused — “ I thought I knew that 
 man,” he replied. 
 
 ‘‘And what could you know of him, for goodness’ sake,” 
 said Mr. Levison, “ that could make you so anxious to 
 renew your acquaintance wifh him? Now I will tell you 
 candidly, Denzil, I do know that man — know him for 
 one of the most dangerous scoundrels in existence. Be- 
 lieve me, if you have any thing to say to him, he will 
 give you cause bitterly to repent it — for a more vile, 
 artful, or unprincipled impostor, never existed ! He 
 once robbed me of a considerable sum of money, under 
 a false pretence — and he has now, I suppose, been trying 
 to practise on your credulity. I do not ask you, Denzil, 
 how you became acquainted with him — I do not want to 
 hear any thing about him — but I wish to impress on your 
 mind the necessity of shunning him. Recollect, if he brings 
 you into trouble after this solemn warning, it will be 
 yourself whom yc a will have to blame — and recollect, 
 toOj, ii;at you .ose mj Tienfeu? for ever, should I 
 discover that you hold any correspondence him f‘ 
 
 Denzil was surprised, and almost shocked at the vehii- 
 mence with which Mr. Levison uttered this. Accus- 
 tomed to consider him as a good and benevolent man, 
 but one of very common every-day feeling and senti- 
 ments, he could not have believed that any subject could 
 have excited in his mind such intense feelings as he now 
 manifested. His features appeared almost convulsed with 
 emotion, and the cold dew stood on his forehead in large 
 drops, as with a look of earnest expectation he awaited 
 Denzil’s answer. 
 
 “ I will not, sir— I will never again listen to him, 
 should he seek me,” he replied. “ I own he has already 
 
88 
 
 I’flE GIl’SV .MO'I'ilEK. 
 
 rendered me very unliappy, by what Ire has contrived to 
 insinuate, rather than ” 
 
 ‘‘ I have no donbt of it,” interrupted Mr. Levison, 
 hastily ; “ but, believe me, Denzil, he is as false as Hea- 
 ven is true — and he seeks not your good, but your des- 
 truction. Promise me then, my dear boy, that you will 
 never again hold any communication with him.” 
 
 I will solemnly promise, if you will answer me one 
 question, sir,” said Denzil ; ‘^not now, but at some future 
 opportunity,” he continued, glancing at Fanny, who, in 
 the greatest surprise and agitation, had been a silent wit- 
 ness of their conversation. 
 
 I will not submit to be questioned by you, sir,” re- 
 plied Mr. Levison; either I am your friend, Mr. Den- 
 zil Montgomery, or I am not—but I will have no con- 
 ditions made with me !” 
 
 Denzil felt dreadfully disappointed. He thought that 
 he was on the very verge of satisfying all his doubts, and 
 he now saw himself farther than ever from the explana- 
 tion he so ardently desired. 
 
 The longer he reflected on the conversation that had 
 passed between him and Mr. Levison, the more he was 
 convinced that some strong motive must exist, to induce 
 the latter thus vehemently to interdict all correspondence 
 Avith the stranger : and if that motive Avere only his 
 knoAvledge of his character, Avhy not at once explain Avho 
 he AA^as, and where he had met Avith him. 
 
 Such Avere the thoughts that passed through Denzil’s 
 mind, as he retired to his apartment, to prepare for din- 
 ner. Before he Avas ready, Charles entered 
 
 What in the Avorld is the matter noAv, Denzil P” he 
 exclaimed. I have lieard my uncle seriously consulting 
 
THE (ill’SY .ArorHJ^K. 
 
 89 
 
 with aunt Rachel,, whether it Avould not be possible for 
 us to go off back again into the country at once, instead 
 of remaining here three months; and giving, as his reason 
 for such a hasty proceeding, that you will be ruined if 
 you stay here.’^ 
 
 ‘‘ I stand quite as great a chance of being ruined, if I 
 go into the country,’^ returned Denzil, hastily. Nay, 
 I will not go there, unless something is done to quiet 
 these horrible suspicions.” 
 
 Charles stared at hini in surprise — Well, I really 
 think London has turned all our brains,” he observed. 
 ‘‘You were all quite right and comfortable, when I 
 stopped at Ebers’s library, and when I get home, I find 
 my uncle talking of running out of London, as if he had 
 been bitten by a mad dog; and when I go to speak to 
 Fanny, she flies away from me, with a look like a startled 
 deer.” 
 
 Denzil turned away, to conceal the emotion which the 
 name of Fanny had aroused in his bosom, but Charles 
 saw it not. Seldom troubled himself with those pangs 
 which are occasioned by excessive sensibility, he was not 
 very quick-sighted in discovering them in others, and, 
 though really good-natured, frequently gave intense pain 
 by his mal-a-propos remarks and observations. 
 
 The desire to tranquillise Fanny’s mind, induced 
 Denzil to endeavour to appear at his ease, when he met 
 her at the dinner-table ; at which he found, besides their 
 own family, a Mr. and Mrs. Irwin, who, he soon under- 
 stood, were old friends of Mr. Levison and his sister. 
 
 The lady cast a scrutinising glance at Denzil, who was 
 the last that entered the room; and, upon his being in- 
 troduced to her by Mr. Levison, the old lady, not satis 
 
90 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 fied with her first investigation, deliberately drew out 
 her spectacles, and renewed it a second time. 
 
 Well, really,” she observed, turning to Mr. Levison, 
 
 if you had not previously introduced your nephew to 
 me, I should have taken t/izs young man to have been 
 him. He has just the complexion and hair of the Le- 
 visons, while your nephew’s are quite light — the first of 
 the family whom I remember to have seen with light 
 hair and eyes.” 
 
 “ Charles resembles his mother more than our family,” 
 said Mr. Levison; ‘‘but there is another light-haired 
 one,” he added, looking at Fanny, “and yet I am flat- 
 tered, sometimes, that she is like me.” 
 
 Mrs. Irwin continued to gaze at Fanny’s blushing 
 face — 
 
 “ Why* yes,’’ she obs^'-ved, “ there is a likeness, cer- 
 tainly — what we etill a flxmil, .ikeiutss — but ^ shouW 
 much rather have judged this ^ aung gentlem^i to have 
 been a near relation of yours, than either of the others — 
 Is he of the Montgomeries of ” 
 
 “ I really cannot answer any questions as to Denzil’s 
 pedigree,” interrupted Mr. Levison; “all I can vouch 
 for is, that his father was a Major in the army, and of 
 course a gentleman; and his mother was a very accom- 
 plished woman.” 
 
 Denzil’s heart throbbed violently during these obser- 
 vations, which, though uttered in a low tone, were per- 
 fectly audible to his ear. 
 
 He was unwilling to believe Mr. Levison would deli- 
 berately utter an absolute falsehood ; and yet the manner 
 in which this explanation of his birth was given — tlie 
 desire his guardian evidently manifested to change the 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 91 
 
 subject — and Mrs. Irwin’s observations upon the fancied 
 resemblance between himself and the Levison family — 
 all conspired to increase his doubts and his misery; and 
 when the conversation took a different turn, he found it 
 impossible to force his attention so as to join in it. 
 
 Mr. Irwin, who, unlike his lady, was inclined to be 
 taciturn, yet appeared anxious to converse with Denzil, 
 and twice addressed observations to him, without being 
 able to obtain an answer. 
 
 “ Denzil has left his wits in the country, I believe,” 
 observed Mr. Levison. 
 
 “ It is to be hoped he will find them safe, when he 
 gets back there,” returned Mr. Irwin, drily. 
 
 ‘‘ I suppose they are in the possession of some canny 
 Cumberland lass,” observed the old lady, smiling. 
 
 “ Oh, no, no,” replied Mr. Levison, hastily. “ It will 
 be time enough, some years hence, for him to think of 
 such matters.” 
 
 ‘‘How old is Mr. Montgomery?” demanded Mrs. 
 Irwin, looking attentively at him. 
 
 The question aroused Denzil from the absence of mind 
 which had rendered him totally inattentive to the pre- 
 ceding conversation; and he looked anxiously at Mr. 
 Levison for an answer. 
 
 “ There is only a few weeks’ difference between 
 Fanny and him,” said the latter ; “ and I believe she has 
 just told you that she is nearly eighteen.” 
 
 Denzil seemed to breathe more freely at hearing this, 
 which was given in a manner so free from all restraint, 
 so perfectly natural, that he could scarcely doubt its 
 truth ; his satisfaction, however, was immediately damped 
 by Mrs. Irwin’s reply. 
 
THE GJl’SY 31 OTHER. 
 
 ^)2 
 
 Only a few weeks ! surely, you must be mistaken ! 
 It cannot be possible !” she observed. Why, I am 
 sure, he looks three or four years older.’’ 
 
 Impossible as it appears, it is nevertheless true,” re- 
 plied Mr. Levison, in a tone which shewed that he felt 
 rather displeased at the freedom of the old lady’s re- 
 marks. 
 
 I beg your pardon, Mr. Levison,” she said, ‘‘ but I 
 was really surprised; and, as I did not know how long 
 the young gentleman had been under your care, I 
 thought it possible that you might be mistaken.” 
 
 “ I am not mistaken, I assure you,” he observed; “ be 
 will be of age just seven weeks before Fanny Levison 
 will have attained the same important period.” 
 
 Ah, how well do I remember when your poor bro- 
 ther Alfred came of age,” returned the garrulous old 
 lady. I was then quite a girl — but I remember, as if 
 it were but yesterday, the feastings and rejoicings which 
 kept the whole country alive for two or three weeks. 
 What a fine, handsome young man he was ! I beg par- 
 don — it is bringing melancholy recollections back to 
 your mind; but, pray, is it true that that wretched wo- 
 man is dead, and that she confessed before her death ” 
 
 I know nothing at all of the circumstances you speak 
 of,” interrupted Mr. Levison, hastily. “ I know not 
 whether she is dead, or living; and as to confessing, I 
 do not believe she could confess any thing that was not 
 known to me !” 
 
 Good heavens, then, she did acknowledge ” 
 
 “ Pardon me,” said Mr. Levison, again interrupting 
 her; ‘‘it is a subject which, even at this distance of time, 
 I cannot bear to discuss; but I will do this justice to her 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 93 
 
 memory, if she be dead, (though of that I am doubtful), 
 that I do, from the bottom of my heart, believe her inno- 
 cent of the foul crime of which she was accused ; and 
 that she was, on the whole, ‘more sinned against, than 
 sinning,’ and, therefore, more to be pitied than con- 
 demned.” 
 
 “ Well, I am surprised to hear you say so,” returned 
 Mrs. Irwin, who seemed pertinaciously bent on conti- 
 nuing the subject; “ but, if that was the case, Mr. Le- 
 vison, why did she not ” 
 
 “ It is useless for us now to enter into a discussion, 
 which can only poison the comfort of our meeting,” ob- 
 served Mr. Levison; “besides,” he added, looking sig- 
 nificantly towards the young people, “ I have another 
 reason for not entering on the subject at present.” 
 
 Mrs. Irwin was at length silenced, though it was evi- 
 dent she was disappointed, in not being allowed to pursue 
 the subject. 
 
 The young men having remained a short time after 
 the ladies had left the table, withdrew together into the 
 library. 
 
 “ Have you ever heard the circumstances to which 
 Mrs. Irwin alluded, at dinner-time?” inquired Denzil, 
 who had felt greatly interested in the subject, and the 
 more especially because he had seen Miss Rachel’s 
 usually placid countenance betray the deepest emotion, 
 though she had taken no part in the conversation. 
 
 “ Something, but not distinctly, I have heard of the 
 history of my uncle Alfred,” returned Charles. “ He 
 was, as I have understood, poisoned, either by or at the 
 instigation of his wife, in consequence of an illicit attach- 
 ment, as I suppose, to some one.” 
 
94 . 
 
 THE GirSY MOTHER, 
 
 “ But your uncle, by what he said to-day, considers 
 her innocent — for, of course, it was her to whom Mrs. 
 Irwin alluded,” observed Denzil. 
 
 It would appear so,” said Charles, ‘‘ but I knov/ 
 very little about it; and what was told me, was under 
 the seal of secrecy, by old. Mrs. Williams, the house- 
 keeper at the Hall. You recollect how often we have 
 felt surprised at my uncle’s never using- the large dining- 
 room that opened on the terrace, and which we some- 
 times were in the habit of making the scene of our boyish 
 sports?” 
 
 “ Yes, and I remember, too, how angry both Mrs. 
 Williams and the butler were, when they sometimes 
 caught us getting in through the windows, to play there 
 on a wet day, when we could not keep out of doors,” 
 replied Denzil. 
 
 ‘‘ Yes, but you did not know that I was frightened out 
 of going there, at last,” said Charles, ‘‘ by being told 
 that it was the scene of a most foul and unnatural mur- 
 der, with the addition, which I suppose arose solely from 
 the old woman’s own imagination, that sights had been 
 seen, and sounds heard in that room, which were quite 
 sufficient to account for its being disused. She was so 
 much afraid of my betraying my knowledge of the story 
 to my uncle, by whom, it seems, all the old servants had 
 been cautioned never to reveal it, that I could only glean 
 from her the outlines of the affair.” ' 
 
 It is singular, though, that you never told me any 
 thing about it,” replied Denzil. 
 
 Not at all — I knew, too well, your turn for romance 
 - -you would have been immediately seeking for adven- 
 tures, and my uricle would have found out that you were 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 95 
 
 acquainted with that which he has always particularly 
 desired to keep secret from you.” 
 
 From me ! why from me, particularly?” said Denzil, 
 with surprise. 
 
 “ I did not mean you, particularly — the prohibition to 
 speak of the story was given generally — but Mrs. Wil- 
 liams was more especially afraid of your knowing it, be- 
 cause she was sure, she said, you would not rest content, 
 without trying to have ocular demonstration of the fact 
 that the room was haunted ; and then, if you got a fright, 
 she would be blamed for having put it into your head. 
 
 Denzil smiled. “ A very sufficient reason, certainly,” 
 he observed ; ‘‘ but I suppose the same motives for silence 
 did not exist towards Fanny — for I now recollect, that 
 she would never join us in our trespasses in the dining- 
 room.” 
 
 “ Do you think it possible that aunt Rachel could or 
 would possess any secret which Fanny did not share?” 
 said Charles. I am sure, I should consider it a mi- 
 racle, if I ever discovered that such a thing had existed.” 
 
 ‘‘ And yet,” thought Denzil, if there is any decep- 
 tion practised respecting my birth and origin, it is cer- 
 tain that Miss Rachel must be acquainted with it, and 
 equally certain that Fanny is not.” 
 
 “ What are you thinking of, so intently ?” said 
 Charles, after sitting for nearly a quarter of an hour in 
 silence by his side, during which Denzil had been assi- 
 duously recalling to his mind every circumstance he 
 could think of, that tended to prove the correctness of 
 Mr. Levison’s statement as to his birth. 
 
 Denzil started at the question. 
 
 “ 1 would lay my life,” continued Charles, ‘‘that you 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 OG 
 
 are pondering’ over what you have heard, and wishing 
 yourself at the Hall, that you might have an oppor- 
 tunity of exploring the secrets of the haunted chamber. 
 I know you will never rest now, till you have learned 
 all the particulars of the mysterious story.” 
 
 ‘‘ I confess I am greatly interested in it — but you are 
 mistaken in thinking' that I wish to go back to Cumber- 
 land. In the present state of my feelings, I would not — 
 could not return to Levison Hall,” said Denzil. 
 
 Surely,” replied Charles, ‘‘ you cannot be serious — 
 What difference could it make to you? — But it is of no 
 use for me to make remarks, unless I was acquainted 
 with the important secret which has made such a won- 
 derful alteration in you, and it seems you do not think 
 me worthy of your confidence.” 
 
 “I dare not trust you, Charles — not that I do not 
 think you worthy, but that ” 
 
 ‘‘ Well, well, never mind; it will all come out in due 
 time, I dare say,” interrupted Charles, ‘‘and you know 
 that impertinent curiosity is not one of my foibles.” 
 
 “ It will come out in time,” returned Denzil, thought- 
 fully; “and you will then know, or at least better com- 
 prehend ” 
 
 “ For heaven's sake, Denzil, do not look so utterly 
 miserable,” interrupted Charles; “you will, indeed, un- 
 willing as I am to think so, make me believe that some- 
 thing serious has occurred — Yet I cannot, for the life of 
 me, comprehend — Oh, no, it must be that you, with 
 your usual sensitiveness, overrate some trivial occur- 
 rence, and fancy miseries which have no real existence.” 
 
 “ Would to heaven I could believe so !” exclaimed 
 Denzil; “but we will say no more on the subject — I 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 97 
 
 must try to bear it with patience, till some fortunate 
 event relieves me from the tortures of suspense. But 
 here comes Fanny — do not let her suspect the topic of 
 our conversation.” 
 
 It would seem as if she already divined it,” observed 
 Charles ; ‘‘ for she looks as pensive and melancholy as if 
 she fully participated in your feelings.” 
 
 Fanny had not, it appeared, been aware they were in 
 the library when she entered, and as soon as she beheld 
 them, she half drew back, as if unwilling to interrupt 
 them; 
 
 ‘‘ You are just come in good time, my dear cousin,” 
 said Charles ; ‘‘ for Denzil and I are half asleep, for 
 want of something to amuse and interest us.” 
 
 Fanny’s countenance brightened into a smile — ‘‘ Is it 
 possible,” she replied, “that my cousin Charles could 
 utter that gallant speech — and to me, too, of all the people 
 in the world?” 
 
 “ And why not to you, Fanny, as well as any one else? 
 I am sure you have never had any reason to suppose that 
 I do not think as highly of you, as of any of your sex,” he 
 returned. “ Nay, to tell you the truth, I think better of 
 you, than I do of most — for I think you a very good, 
 reasonable girl, and I am sure I do not know many to 
 whom I could pay the same compliment.” 
 
 “ Better and better, still !” said Fanny, laughing. 
 “ Well, coz, I shall never think our visit to London 
 entirely thrown away, though it has not quite answered 
 all our expectations,” (and she threw a sly look at Den- 
 zil,) “ since it seems it has opened your eyes to a proper 
 sense of my merits. But come, let me hear what else 
 you have to say, for I am rather suspicious this is but a 
 
 o 
 
98 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 covert attack upon my good-nature. It is not the first 
 time, you know, that you have condescended to coax me 
 into an alliance with you in some of your schemes, of 
 which you have had all the profit, and poor I all the 
 discredit.” 
 
 “ No, indeed, Fanny, I have spoken the plain truth,” 
 replied Charles, “ nor have I any scheme at present to 
 execute, unless, indeed, you could propose any to frighten 
 away that prosing old woman, Mrs. Irwin, and her 
 nonentity husband, and persuade your father to let us all 
 go to see the new pantomime at Drury Lane, as he pro- 
 posed yesterday, before he thought of sending to invite 
 them !” 
 
 Oest impossible^ tovte impossible said Fanny, shak- 
 ing her head. Aunt Rachel and Mrs. Irwin have got 
 so deep into a review of their younger days, — the 
 history of the conquests they achieved, — the beautiful 
 sacks, petticoats, and negligees they wore, — the compli- 
 ments that were paid them, and the vast superiority of 
 men and manners, particularly female manners, in their 
 time, over those of the present age — with a variety of 
 other particulars, too numerous to mention — that they 
 will not, I am afraid, have finished before bed-time ; and, 
 indeed, I expect it will be an adjourned debate, to be 
 resumed at our next meeting, for, except on the subject 
 of pedigrees, in which I understand she is quite au fait, 
 
 I do not really think the old lady possesses any subjects 
 of conversation.” 
 
 “ Oh, she is clever at pedigrees, is she ?” said Charles : 
 
 then I will help her to mount her hobby-horse, when 
 I go to tea — for I will ask her whether Mrs. Irwin is 
 descended from the famous Sir Hildebrand de Irwin, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 99 
 
 who performed such wonderful ftats in the Holy 
 Wars?” 
 
 Was there such a person?” said Fanny, innocently. 
 
 “ Not that I know of, coz,” he replied; “ but I know, 
 if she prides herself on her pedigree, she will be very 
 anxious to establish her relationship, and it will be fun to 
 hear her attempt it.” 
 
 “ Oh, then, pray do not do any such thing,” said 
 Fanny, seriously ; you know my father is inclined to 
 set an inordinate value on ^ good blood,’ as he styles it ; 
 and he will never forgive you, if he finds out that you are 
 jesting on such a subject.” 
 
 Well, then, I will not,” replied Charles; ‘‘but I 
 may at least be allowed to recommend myself to the old 
 lady’s favour, by avowing my admiration of the ladies 
 and dresses of the last century.” 
 
 “ And do you expect to get credit for your taste ?” 
 said Fanny, smiling; “ do you think aunt Rachel has 
 forgotten the offence you gave her, by ridiculing her 
 stiff-flowered damask and brocaded petticoat, and, above 
 all, her toupee, in the picture which represents her in all 
 her youthful charms? No, no, Charles — if you have 
 no better scheme for the amusement of the evening, than 
 turning Mrs. Irwin’s foibles to account, I am afraid we 
 are likely to have a dull time of it.” 
 
 “ Cannot you help me, Denzil?” demanded Charles. 
 “ Come, ascend the heaven of your invention, and see 
 what your fancy can produce, to counteract the spells of 
 dullness, which else will enthral us.” 
 
 “ I cannot fancy it possible to be dull, while Fanny 
 is smiling,” replied Denzil, trying to assume the cheerful 
 tone of his companions. 
 
100 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER 
 
 “ Oh, now 1 must run away from you,” returned 
 Fanny, laughing. “ Another compliment, and from 
 Denzil, too ! The grave, sententious -Denzil ! it is 
 enough, I am sure, to turn my giddy little brain.” 
 
 “ How long have I deserved the epithets you have 
 bestowed on me, my dear Fanny?” said Denzil, with 
 tenderness, as Charles arose, and quitted the library. 
 “You were wont to reprove me for indulging in exuberant 
 gaiety, and have not unfrequently been my Mentor, in 
 advising me to restrain my inordinate propensity to 
 mirth. How comes it that you have so completely 
 altered your opinion of me, as to apply to me the terms- 
 grave and sententious P’ 
 
 “ How comes it that you are so completely altered 
 as to deserve them?’ replied Fanny, looking earnestly 
 in his face. “ How comes it, that, instead of looking as 
 you were wont to do, the very spirit of gaiety and anima- 
 tion, you are become the personification of sorrow and 
 despair — the very representative,” she continued, assum- 
 ing a livelier tone, though the tears trembled in her eyes, 
 “ the very representative of ‘ the knight of the rueful 
 countenance,’ and, like him, I suspect, mistaking the 
 phantoms of your own imagination for realities.” 
 
 “ Heaven grant it may prove so !” exclaimed Denzil, 
 with fervour. Heaven, in its infinite mercy, grant it ! I 
 can abide your laughter — I can submit to your elud- 
 ings — any thing — every thing — but to know that 1 no 
 longer dare ” 
 
 “ Dare what, Denzil ? why do you thus suddenly 
 pause, at the moment you have raised my curiosity to 
 the highest pitch ?” demanded Fanny. 
 
 “ Because I dare not speak — I dare not raise, in your 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 101 
 
 pure and innocent mind, suspicions and doubts, which 
 almost shake my own reason.” 
 
 “ I will not ask you another question, Denzil,” said 
 Fanny, “whatever this dreadful secret is that thus 
 oppresses you, I can still hope — so long as I feel con- 
 vinced that you regard me with the same feelings, the 
 same affection — for I will not hesitate to pronounce that 
 word, which you have hitherto done — I must confess I did 
 think,” (and she blushed violently,) “that your feelings 
 towards me were changed, and that you had met some 
 one whom you thought more worthy of your regard 
 than ” 
 
 “ Never, never, Fanny — never shall I feel for any the 
 love, the adoration, the esteem — but that is a cold word, 
 and yet, perhaps, it ought to be the only one I should 
 use — the only one that I could properly apply — but I 
 cannot — Oh no, I cannot banish from my mind feelings 
 which have ‘ grown with my growth, and strengthened 
 with my strength.’ Oh, Fanny, I am miserable — mise- 
 rable beyond what your imagination can conceive !” 
 
 “ And is it your affection, your regard for me, that 
 renders you miserable, Denzil?” demanded Fanny, re- 
 proachfully. If so, I am, indeed, unfortunate.” 
 
 “ No, no, do not say so, Fanny. It is I who am un- 
 fortunate — you may soon find some one worthy of your 
 affection — some one in whose love you will forget the 
 unhappy Denzil, but never, never shall I meet with one 
 who can be what you have been — what you are to me !” 
 
 “ I must not — I cannot talk with you any longer, 
 Denzil — you are, indeed, incomprehensible! One ques- 
 tion, however, I will ask you. Is it my father whom 
 you fear will oppose our happiness? Have you any rea- 
 
103 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 son to think that he knows of — of that he would not 
 
 consent Denzil, you know what I would say.” 
 
 She hid her lovely blushing face in her hands, in the 
 deepest confusion, as she concluded. 
 
 “ I do not know that Mr. Levison has the slightest 
 suspicion of our attachment, Fanny,” returned Denzil. 
 “ If I did — if I were convinced that he did know it, I 
 should be at once relieved from all fear — for he could 
 not, he dare not, be so cruel, so devoid of common feel- 
 ing, as to suffer for a moment such a fatal delusion to 
 exist.” 
 
 ‘‘Denzil, what is it you allude to?” exclaimed Fanny. 
 “ I said I would not ask you another question — but you 
 alarm, you terrify me! I am fearful that your mind is 
 diseased, and that these horrid doubts and fears, which 
 you speak of, are the mere fantasies of a heated brain !” 
 
 Denzil shook his head with a melancholy smile — “ No, 
 no, I am not mad, Fanny,” he replied, “ though it would 
 be better far that I should be so, than that my fears 
 should prove to be well-founded.” 
 
 The return of Charles prevented Fanny’s reply, and 
 she hastily retreated by another door, to prevent her cou- 
 sin’s discovering her excessive agitation. 
 
 “ I thought as much,” said Charles, looking signi- 
 ficantly at Denzil, “ I thought, after I had left you with 
 Fanny, that I had done wrong, and that you would get 
 into your heroics again, and make that poor girl miserable.” 
 
 “ And do you suppose, then, that I intentionally make 
 her or myself miserable ?” returned Denzil, angrily. 
 
 “ Oh, well I am glad to see that you are vexed,” said 
 Charles; “if I could once rouse you into a passion, I 
 should have some hope of you. But come, aunt Ra- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 103 
 
 chel has been waiting for us this half hour, to come to 
 tea; so do, pray^ dear your sombre brow, and try to 
 look a little like other people.” 
 
 Denzil felt that his face could be no true index of his 
 mind, if it did look like others. 
 
 “ For no person,” he murmured to himself, as he fol- 
 lowed his companion to the drawing-room, “ no, not one 
 individual in the world, can feel the misery that I feel.” 
 
 Fanny was iiot in the room when they entered, and 
 Miss Rachel testified considerable impatience at her 
 tardiness. 
 
 “ She has been with you, has she not ?” she inquired, 
 looking at Denzil, “ and why could she not as well come 
 with you, since it seems plain that she prefers your com- 
 pany to ours.” 
 
 Denzil felt astonished at this attack; though Rachel was 
 often peevish with her brother and her nephew, and con- 
 sidered it a part of good housewifery to scold the servants 
 pretty often, yet Fanny and himself had hitherto been 
 privileged persons, for they were both favorites, and she 
 never seemed to think they could do wrong. 
 
 Unconsciously he glanced from her to Mrs. Irwin, 
 and was immediately struck with the scowling look and 
 consequential air, with which she regarded him. 
 
 “ It is to her interference, then, that poor Fanny and 
 I are indebted for this unusual severity, on the part of 
 aunt Rachael,” he thought ; and the sentence that was 
 involuntarily rising to his lips, with the intention of ex- 
 culpating Fanny, by declaring that she had accidentally 
 encountered them in the library, was suppressed ; aiid^ in 
 lieu of it, he observed with pointed emphasis — 
 
 “ Fanny, I am sure, my dear aunt,” (so he was accus- 
 
J04 
 
 THE GIPSY MO'ITIER. 
 
 tomed to call her) at all times prefers your company to 
 that of any one else in the world ; but she considered you 
 were engaged with your friend, and thought her presence, 
 perhaps, a restraint on your mutual communications.” 
 
 “ Miss Levison will not want a champion, it seems, 
 while Mr. Montgomery is near,” observed Mrs. Irwin, 
 with a sneering smile. 
 
 Certainly not, madam,” returned Denzil, with spirit; 
 
 but I believe this has been the first time that she has 
 needed one — and it is somewhat unfortunate that it should 
 happen now, particularly.” 
 
 Fanny entered, but Denzifs reply seemed to have quite 
 disarmed her aunt’s resentment, and she made no remark 
 on her absence, except to say — 
 
 We have waited tea for you love, for your father 
 and Mr. Irwin decline taking tea with us.” 
 
 ‘‘I am sorry, dear aunt,” said Fanny, with her usual 
 sweetness of manner, “ but I was in the library with Den- 
 zil and Charles, and was not aware you had sent for me, 
 until I went to my dressing-room.” 
 
 ‘‘You are very fond of reading, I suppose. Miss Levi- 
 son?” said Mrs. Irwin. 
 
 Fanny replied in the affirmative. 
 
 “ Aye, when I was a girl, books were not thought so 
 necessary as at present for females,” replied the old lady. 
 “We were taught what was requisite to make us good 
 wives and good mothers, and had little time for study. 
 I question if I ever passed two hours at a time in my fa- 
 ther’s library, in my life.” 
 
 Fanny looked disconcerted at this unexpected attack 
 upon her habits and propensities, and Charles muttered 
 an execration between his teeth, at the old lady’s offi- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 105 
 
 ciousness, while Denzil felt too indignant to express his 
 feelings, except by looks. 
 
 I never, in my life, knew any good come of making 
 women too learned,” continued Mrs. Irwin, finding no 
 one ventured to oppose her ; “ I am not casting any re- 
 flections on you, my dear,” addressing Fanny, “ but I do 
 think it a great misfortune that you have been brought up 
 in the manner you have — the constant companion of two 
 young men, whose habits and taste must of course have 
 influenced yours. My mother would not suffer my sisters 
 and me to associate even with my brothers, except in 
 her presence : for, she said, it destroyed that distinction 
 which ought to be always kept up between the sexes, and 
 rendered girls bold, presuming, and regardless of those 
 restraints which ought to regulate every female^s conduct.” 
 
 You have ocular demonstration then, madam, of the 
 error of your mother’s theory,” said Denzil, fixing his 
 piercing eyes upon her, with a look of defiance ; “ for 
 nobody, not even you, will assert that Miss Levison is 
 bold or presuming; and, even on points of domestic 
 economy, I rather suspect she might challenge a compa- 
 rison with any one — aye, even if they were so blissfully 
 ignorant as not to be able to read even the title-page of a 
 book — and yet she had the misfortune, as you observe, to 
 have been not only educated with her cousin Charles, and 
 myself, but to have far outstripped us in many points.” 
 
 I wish her friends, sir, may always have as much 
 reason to exult in her acquirements as you seem to think 
 they have,” said Mrs. Irwin, drily. 
 
 I am sure they will,” said Denzil, warmly. During the 
 latter part of this conversation, Fanny had been occupied 
 with her aunt at the tea-table ; but, though she did not 
 
 p 
 
106 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 distinctly hear all that had passed, she learned enougfi, 
 from Denail’s animated look, and Mrs. Irwin’s offended 
 and haughty manner, to know that he had been successfully 
 pleading her cause against the prejudiced and narrow- 
 minded friend of her family,” as Mrs. Irwin had more 
 than once emphatically styled herself. 
 
 The tea-things were about to be removed, when Mr. 
 Levison and his friend entered the room, but evidently 
 under the influence of wine. 
 
 Here’s the two milksops,” observed Irwin, clapping 
 Denzil familiarly on the shoulder ; ‘‘ they’re not like you 
 and I were, Levison, at their age — we could take our 
 quantum suff. like two jolly dogs then, and never stole 
 away to the tea-table.” 
 
 “ That was the difference of education, sir,” said Denzil, 
 stealing a triumphant glance at Mrs. Irwin, ‘‘ keeping up 
 the proper distinction between the sexes.” 
 
 “ Aye, Denzil, you are right, my boy — our education 
 differed materially from yours, but I don’t think we were 
 much the better for it, friend Irwin. I rather think we 
 should have been spared, if a different mode had been 
 adopted, many aches and pains, which now torment us — 
 not to mention the heart-aches, which have sometimes 
 arisen from such causes. No, no, my two hoys are yet 
 boys, and they have no disposition to prove themselves 
 men, by such means as you and I thought necessary to 
 shew our manhood.” 
 
 “ Oh, you are too moral and sentimental for me, 
 Charles !” returned Mr. Irwin. “ I do not know what 
 sort of stuff your heart is made of — ^but mine, J assure 
 you, was never so tender as to feel any very deep wound.” 
 
 “ Yet, if you were to reflect upon some little affairs, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 107 
 
 Irwin but I won’t tell tales; I forgot Mrs. Irwin was 
 
 present — though those are days gone by, and therefore 
 of no consequence to her !” 
 
 “ There, now, you have brought a pretty hornet’s nest 
 about my ears — I shall be stung to death, to-night, with 
 her conjectures and reproaches,” said Mr. Irwin, in a 
 low voice. 
 
 Pshaw, she can’t be so ridiculous ! she is too good a 
 wife, I am sure, to wish to pry into the peccadilloes com- 
 mitted long before she ever even heard of you,” replied 
 Mr. Levison. 
 
 Denzil listened to this conversation with a species of 
 mischievous exultation, for he perceived that Mrs. Irwin 
 had sense and shrewdness enough to see how completely 
 it was at variance with her own doctrines; and though 
 she was evidently on the fidgets, to give both Mr. Irwin 
 and his friend a lecture, she restrained her impatience, 
 and only recommended them to take some tea to clear 
 their heads. 
 
 “ Well, what are we all looking so solemn about?” 
 said Mr. Levison. Are we not going to have a little 
 music? Charles, where is your flute? and Fanny, come, 
 there’s a darling, let us have one of your very best new 
 songs, and Denzil will accompany you.” 
 
 “ This is quite a musical age,” said Mrs. Irwin, while 
 Denzil was occupied in placing the music-books for 
 Fanny, and Charles was screwing together his flute 
 
 In my younger days ** 
 
 She stopped abruptly, for she caught Denzil’s satirical 
 glance. 
 
 Aye,” rejoined Mr. Levison, ‘‘ in your younger 
 days,' when playing ‘ God save the King,’ ‘ the Battle 
 
108 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 of Prague/ and singing, without time or tune, ‘ Water 
 parted from the Sea,’ and two or three more, was the 
 extent of a young lady’s musical education, those vvho, 
 like my friend Irwin and I, had a taste for something a 
 little better and more scientific, were compelled to seek 
 it among the nymphs of the Opera, or the Theatres. I 
 remember myself being violently in love for a whole 
 season, with a pretty creature who used to sing the songs 
 in Rosina delightfully, at one of the play-houses; and 
 being driven out of the house, every time I came home, 
 by Rachel’s squalling the same songs, and accompanying 
 herself with a jangling old harpsichord, that sounded as 
 discordant in my eare as the tones produced by the set>- 
 ting of a saw.” 
 
 All but Mrs. Irwin laughed heartily — not even except- 
 ing aunt Rachel — at this description of her musical 
 powers; but the old lady, who saw herself again defeated 
 in her dogmatisms, looked even more consequential and 
 sour than before. 
 
 The evening passed away pretty well, though Denzil, 
 sometimes, as he gazed at Fanny’s lovely face, and heard 
 her harmonious voice uttering, in concert with his own, 
 the tender est melodies, descriptive of love, turned away 
 with a sickening sensation of the misery that perhaps 
 awaited him; but he was careful to conceal from Fanny 
 the effects of this impression, and she, anxious and doubt- 
 ful as she felt, hailed the appearance of tranquillity as the 
 indication of his complete restoration. 
 
 It was not till Mrs. Irwin and Miss Rachel united 
 their powers of scolding, that Mr. Levison and his friend 
 could be prevailed on to separate. 
 
 “ It is many years since we met,” observed the former, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 109 
 
 ‘‘ and seldom that we have enjoyed so many hours ration- 
 ally, as well as pleasantly together; and it is hard that our 
 pleasure should be shortened, by the prudential conside- 
 rations of two foolish old women : however, I suppose we 
 must yield, friend Ned, or else, if either you or I should 
 chance to have the head-ache to-morrow, we shall be 
 abused, and have our folly of to-night thrown in our 
 teeth. Rachel, I suppose, will refuse to nurse me, much 
 more pity me.” 
 
 “ Then I will nurse you, papa, ” said Fanny, coming 
 behind him, and throwing her arms around his neck, 
 while she bent over him, and pressed her ruby lips to 
 his forehead. “ You know,” she continued, playfully, 
 ‘‘ that you have said that I was the best nurse in the 
 world, except my aunt.” 
 
 Not excepting anybody,” said Mr. Levison fondly, 
 “ and, besides, if you want a character, ask Denzil — you 
 know, he said that he could be content to be sick for a 
 year, if you would nurse him, as you did the few days 
 he was confined, in consequence of jumping into the 
 water with his clothes on. Nay, never blush, Denzil — I 
 am not going to trumpet forth your good deeds.” 
 
 Denzil did blush, but it was not from the cause his 
 guardian had assigned, but from the recollections he had 
 aroused. 
 
 Those few days to which Mr. Levison had alluded, 
 had been the happiest days of his life; for it was while 
 Fanny had assiduously attended his sick couch, that he 
 had first become conscious of the nature of his own feel- 
 ings towards her, and felt how necessary those tender 
 cares, those affectionate endearments would be to his fu- 
 ture happiness. 
 
lio 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Fanny had, at first, appeared not to comprehend him, 
 when he ventured to breathe this in her ear; but she, 
 too, was awakened to the consciousness that her hap- 
 piness was inseparably united with that of Denzil, and 
 with all the candour of her nature and of innocence, she 
 acknowledged that her heart was his own. 
 
 It was these rapturous moments that Mr. Levison’s 
 remark now brought so forcibly back to his recollection, 
 and the contrast with what he then felt, and the misery 
 and doubt he was now suffering, struck with such force 
 on his mind, that, unable to conceal his agitation, he 
 rushed precipitately from the room. 
 
 That lad is one of the bravest, and yet the most 
 modest in the world,” said Mr. Levison. ‘‘ He had 
 nearly lost his life in saving a poor boy that had fallen 
 into the fish-pond near the Hall — and now he cannot 
 bear to hear it mentioned.” 
 
 Very singular modesty, indeed,” said Mrs. Irwin; 
 “ but, I think. Miss Levison’s condescension in nursing 
 him, quite as remarkable. He ought to feel very grateful 
 for it, I should think !” 
 
 “ Grateful!” repeated Mr. Levison, struck with the 
 tone in which this was pronounced. “ He feels, I dare 
 say, as he ought to do — that it was sisterly kindness of 
 Fanny, and the same as she would have done for me.” 
 
 Fanny had retreated in dismay at the sarcastic tone 
 which Mrs. Irwin had assumed; but she returned when 
 her father made this observation. 
 
 “ Well, well,” replied Mrs. Irwin, “I must yield to 
 your superior sense, Mr. Levison; but I must repeat my 
 observation, that I think it was a condescension on the 
 part of your daughter. Who is this young man? What 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Ill 
 
 is he, that the daughter of Mr. Charles Levison, the last 
 
 representative of the ancient house -but I lay no more 
 
 — ^it is not my business, only I should be sorry if your 
 hopes and expectations were disappointed!” 
 
 “Pshaw! pooh! nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Levison, 
 evidently disconcerted ; “ you old women are so exceed- 
 ingly sharp-sighted, that you see what never was to be 
 seen. Fanny is a good, kind-hearted girl, and Denzil 
 one of the best lads in the world; and, I am sure, would 
 never think of doing any thing to displease me.” 
 
 “You are a man of the world, Mr. Levison, and a 
 man of sense,” returned Mrs. Irwin; “but, in this case, 
 I must say you do not act like either; and so, with that 
 caution, I wish you good night.” 
 
 Mr. Levison remained for some minutes after she left 
 him in silent meditation, and Fanny, though she affected 
 not to notice it, felt confounded at the change which was 
 visible in his coimtenance. 
 
 “ Pshaw !” he at length exclaimed, starting suddenly 
 up, “ I am a fool, to make myself uneasy about such 
 nonsense, which is entirely her own creating — I will 
 think no more about it.” 
 
 In spite of this wise determination, it was plain, how- 
 ever, that it had made a great impression on him; for, 
 though Denzil did not appear to be conscious of any 
 alteration in his manner, Fanny was fully aware of it. 
 Mr. Levison was cooler, more formal, and yet not less 
 kind, when he had occasion to address Denzil, than 
 usual; but Fanny could see that he attentively watched 
 every look and word of the latter, as if seeking yet fear- 
 ing to find that the suspicions, which Mrs. Irwin’s obser- 
 vations had excited in his bosom, were well founded. 
 
112 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 There is no occasion,” thoug-ht Fanny, ‘Tor him to be 
 suspicious; for it is plain, whatever may be the cause of 
 the alteration, Denzil no longer wishes to entertain feel- 
 ings which would be objectionable to him.” 
 
 Denzil, indeed, so far from acting towards her in any 
 manner that could give his guardian reason for suspicion, 
 now seemed almost to forget her presence; he avoided 
 even looking towards that part of the room in which she 
 happened to be seated, and scarcely ever joined in conver- 
 sation, when she was one of the speakers. 
 
 In fact, DenziPs thoughts, on the morning after the 
 visit of Mr. and Mrs. Irwin, seemed wholly engrossed liy 
 some subject totally unconnected with those present; and 
 Mr. Levison, at length, forgetting the restraint he had 
 at first felt towards him, seemed most anxious to divert 
 the melancholy which he so obviously betrayed. 
 
 “ How do you propose to occupy yourselves to-day, 
 young folks?” he demanded, “ you know you must make 
 the most of your time while you are in London. You 
 cannot have seen half the lions yet — Fanny was not with 
 us, when we visited the exhibition of pictures at Somerset 
 House, the other day. Suppose we pass the morning 
 there ? — or, as I rather trespassed on my usual habits last 
 night, and do not feel the better for it this morning, it 
 will perhaps be as well that I should stay quietly at home; 
 but you can take care of Fanny, lads, even if Rachel can- 
 not go, as I suspect, by the wise shake of her head, she 
 means to insinuate.” 
 
 “ I meant no such thing, brother,” returned Miss 
 Rachel, “ though I certainly have no wish to go — for 
 you know I hate a crowd, and take no delight in looking 
 at pictures; but that was not what I shook my head at — but 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER 
 
 113 
 
 at seeing you grow so inattentive to 3^0111’ health, as to 
 think of gadding out this morning, after ” 
 
 “ After Avhat ? — after getting tips)', I suppose you 
 would say,” he replied. “Well, I do not deny that I 
 was a little imprudent, and that I expect to suiter for it, 
 and therefore I Avill stay at home, and you may stay Avith 
 me, if you like; for I dare say the young ones Avill he 
 quite as Avell pleased Avithout us.” 
 
 Not me — I Avould rather — I must — that is, I have 
 no Avish to go — hut Charles and Miss Levison,” — said 
 Denzil, colouring deeply, and stammering at every 
 word. 
 
 “ Well, hut Miss Levison does not want to go, you 
 hear,” replied Mr. Levison, who supposed Denzil applied 
 this appellation to his sister. 
 
 I did not mean that, sir,” returned Denzil, looking 
 down Avith confusion ; “ I meant that Charles Avould of 
 course accompany his cousin, and excuse me, as I really 
 am not quite Avell.” 
 
 Mr. Levison stared at him for a feAv moments, in 
 silence. 
 
 How long has Fanny been Miss Levison Avith 3''ou, 
 Mister Montgomery!'''' he at length demanded, in a sar- 
 castic tone ; “ hut I heg your pardon, Denzil,” he added, 
 recollecting himself; I Avill not — I ought not to Avish 
 to pry into your motives for the change — hut, call her 
 Avhat you Avill, Fanny, I am sure, Avill ever he dear to 
 3'ou as a sister !” 
 
 Denzil started — the hlush .Avhich had crimsoned his 
 cheek at the commencement of Mr. Levison’s speech, 
 faded into the most ghastly paleness. 
 
 ‘‘ Yes, as a sister,” he at length Avith difficulty articu- 
 
114 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 lated — as a sister, I will — I must love her — and only 
 as a sister.” 
 
 “ Denzil, you are — what I have always thought you — 
 a noble fellow !” exclaimed Mr. Levison ; “ there are 
 some circumstances connected with Fanny’s history, and 
 with your own, which, at some future time, may be re- 
 vealed to you, and which, at present, I cannot explain; 
 but you will never, I trust — whatever my conduct may 
 have been in other respects — You will never have reason 
 to complain of it. I have been, I will still be, a father 
 to you, — but, as regards Fanny, I must caution you not 
 to indulge fallacious ideas. I have, perhaps, acted 
 foolishly, in allowing you to reach this age, without hav- 
 ing more fully explained myself; but I will now tell 
 you, plainly, and shall take the first opportunity of telling 
 them^ that I hope and expect to see Fanny and Charles 
 united at a proper age.” 
 
 Denzil scarcely heard the conclusion of this sentence — 
 for the first part assured him that his fate was decided ; 
 and he sat struggling against the feelings that over- 
 whelmed him, while Mr. Levison proceeded, without 
 seeming to notice his emotion, to detail the numerous 
 advantages that would result from the proposed union of 
 his daughter and nephew. 
 
 “ Do you not agree with me, my dear boy?” he at 
 length demanded, finding that Denzil did not assent to, 
 or offer any argument against the positions he laid down. 
 
 “ Certainly — oh yes,” returned Denzil, with a heavy 
 sigh, and a look which shewed that he was scarcely con- 
 scious of what he was saying. 
 
 “ Come, my dear boy,” continued Mr. Levison, 
 “ rouse yourself, and go and get ready to accompany 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 115 
 
 Fanny and Charles, who will, of course, expect you to 
 go with them.” 
 
 Fanny, however, had left the room for a purpose very 
 different to what her father supposed. He concluded 
 she had left them to prepare for going out, when, in fact, 
 she had retreated to avoid doing so, and in order to con- 
 ceal her grief and mortification at hearing Denzil, for 
 the first time in his life, decline her company 
 
 Denzil did not seem to comprehend him, but he arose 
 mechanically, as Mr. Levison arose, and tottered rather 
 than walked to the door. 
 
 The latter followed him, in alarm — Denzil, my dear 
 lad, for heaven’s sake, speak !” he exclaimed. “ You are 
 ill — you must not go thus — sit down, and let me ring for 
 some one. Good heavens, I did not think you would 
 have taken this so seriously to heart — I shall never for- 
 give myself, if ” 
 
 But Denzil was already out of hearing of his exclama- 
 tions — for, as if roused by the fear of any other person 
 witnessing his agitation, Mr. Levison no sooner pro- 
 posed calling for assistance, than he darted away up the 
 stairs, and, entering his room, turned the key of the 
 door, and threw himself on the ground. 
 
 His fate, then, was confirmed beyond the possibility of 
 doubt — there was no longer even the shadow of a hope, 
 and he was condemned to drag a weary life, struggling 
 with a sinful, a horrible passion — for never, oh never, 
 he felt assured, could he obliterate from his mind, the 
 feelings with which he regarded her, whom he was now 
 forbidden, by every law, human and divine, to think of 
 as an object of love. 
 
 His heart throbbed, his brain seemed on fire, and his 
 
no 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 reason appeared on the point of deserting- him, as he 
 recalled the dreadful sentence which had sealed his fate. 
 
 “ Sister ! sister ! sister !” he repeated, in a frantic 
 tone. “ Yes, how often, in boyish innocence, have I 
 called her by that title, and wished that she was indeed 
 my sister ! would that I could now feel as I did then ! 
 but I must not — dare not — think of her — and Charles, too 
 
 he, in whose bosom there exists not one spark of the 
 
 flame that consumes me — who never can feel for her as I 
 have done — and ever shall do, while I exist ! nothing 
 but death can extinguish these guilty wishes and feel- 
 ings ! Death ! — it is in my own power, and had I not 
 better die, than continue to nourish in my bosom this 
 horrible, this dreadful feeling ?’’ 
 
 He started upon his feet, and began to pace the cham- 
 ber, while purposes the most horrible came into his 
 mind — ])ut he continued in this state only for a short 
 time. His eye accidentally rested on a book, which had 
 been the gift of his tutor, a learned and excellent man, 
 who had recently died. It recalled to him the precepts 
 he had been taught — the example he had tried to 
 emulate — and, with deep contrition, he mentally implored 
 forgiveness for the act he had meditated. By degrees 
 he became more calm, though not less wretched. 
 
 “ Mr. Levison,” he exclaimed, will not surely Insist 
 on my remaining with her— and thus foster this guilty pas- 
 sion, by constantly beholding her. He will not surely con- 
 strain me to suffer the horrible torment of seeing another 
 enjoy that happiness, which I dare not even wish to be 
 
 mine, and yet must incessantly No, he is too good, 
 
 too kind, I am sure, to require it. I will propose to him 
 that I should leave him for a time, at least, until — but that 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 117 
 
 time will iiev^or come — never must I again beJiold her ! 
 He cannot refuse his permission, or, if he does, I will not 
 relinquish my purpose — no, in this instance, at least, I Avill 
 I e firm !” 
 
 — — 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 With thee, my bark, I’d swiftly go, 
 
 Across the foaming brine; 
 
 Nor care what land thou bear’st me tO; 
 
 So not again to mine. Byron. 
 
 Indisposition afforded Denzil a plea for confining him- 
 self to his room during the remainder of that day, and 
 the next ; nor was it merely an excuse, for the agitation 
 of his mind had produced real bodily illness, and hourly 
 he was tormented with remonstrances from aunt Rachel, 
 because he would not submit to medical assistance, nor 
 take the recipes she would have administered. 
 
 The boy will die, brother,” she exclaimed, if he 
 goes on in this obstinate manner. He is in a high fever, 
 you may depend upon it.” 
 
 “ I will go and talk to him myself,” replied Mr. Levi- 
 son ; but he assured me this morning that it was no- 
 thing but a slight cold, and that he was getting better.” 
 
 I have come to talk seriously to you, my boy,” he 
 observed, as he entered Denzil’s dressing-room, ‘‘Rachel 
 tells me that she is convinced you are much worse than 
 you will acknowledge yourself to be, and if that is the 
 case ” 
 
 “ I am not well, certainly, sir,” replied Denzil* but 
 
118 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 medicine could do me no good, I think — if any thing 
 would benefit me,” he continued, sighing deeply, ‘‘it 
 would be change of scene, and active employment of some 
 sort.” 
 
 “ And what would you please to employ yourself in, 
 young man?” demanded Mr. Levison, sarcastically; 
 “ bind yourself apprentice to some trade, or go for a sol- 
 dier or a sailor ?” 
 
 “ The last would be most consonant to my inclinations, 
 sir,” returned Denzil. “ I, indeed, wish to go to some 
 distant part of the globe — but I know not how I am to 
 gratify that wish, without youT assistance.” 
 
 “ And do you really expect, Mr. Denzil Montgomery, 
 that I shall lend a hand to the furtherance of such a wild- 
 goose scheme ?” said Mr. Levison. “ A pretty thing, 
 truly ! A young man, brought up with every comfort of 
 life at his command, and with a handsome fortune at his 
 disposal, with nothing to disturb his peace but a foolish 
 fancy crossed — nay, Denzil, you need not dart that fiery 
 glance at me — I repeat it, a foolish fancy, that in a few 
 years, perhaps a few months, you would yourself be sur- 
 prised at, and despise ; — that with nothing but this, I say, 
 to vex him, he should want to desert his friends and his 
 home, and embrace a toilsome and dangerous profession, 
 of which he knows nothing. But you must do as you 
 please, Mr. Denzil — you must act as you think proper — 
 I can only advise, and my advice is, of course, worth 
 nothing. 
 
 “ I am sure I have never acted as if I thought so, sir,” 
 replied Denzil. “ I have ever paid the greatest deference 
 to your advice, and in the present instance I only sug- 
 gested the idea, and submitted it to you for your appro- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 119 
 
 bation. I would not do any thing- of which you disap- 
 prove — but on one point I am — I must be — decided. 
 I must quit you for a time^I cannot, without distraction, 
 remain to ” 
 
 “ You are a foolish boy, Denzil,” observed Mr. Le- 
 vison, seeing him pause, unable to finish the sentence; 
 “ but, at the same time that I say so, I am glad, very 
 glad, that even your very extravagance convinces me 
 of the rectitude of your principles. You fancy, no doubt, 
 that you are violently in love — and to fancy it, is to be 
 so for the time ’’ 
 
 “ I cannot — I must not speak — I must not think on 
 this subject,” said Denzil, with extreme agitation ; “ but 
 I must repeat that I cannot remain here — time will, I 
 hope, calm the feelings which now drive me to despera- 
 tion — ^but not while I am daily, hourly 
 
 “ Well, well, your wishes shall be complied with; 
 we shall see what can be done — you shall go somewhere 
 — though I should not like you to make a voyage to the 
 North Pole, or go on a journey of discovery through the 
 wilds of Africa. But, now, this is agreed upon, do try 
 and rouse up your spirits, there’s a good lad, and come 
 down to dinner. You cannot, you know, start off this 
 instant — there must be some little time for preparation 
 and consultation; and it would have a strange appear- 
 ance to Charles and Fanny — whom I wish to keep 
 ignorant of the cause of your absence — were you to per- 
 severe in secluding yourself till the last moment of your 
 departure. Try, then, to forget what has passed, and 
 meet them as cheerfully as usual; and, when I have 
 finally resolved as to Avhere it will be most expedient for 
 you to go, during this voluntary exile, we will announce it 
 
120 
 
 THE Girsy im()thp:u. 
 
 to them, so as to prev^ent its having any extraordinary 
 appearaiKje.” 
 
 .Denzil forcibly felt the impossibility of forgetting 
 what had passed, but he was unwilling entirely to 
 refuse this request, when his own had been so promptly 
 complied with. 
 
 I cannot to-day, sir, indeed I cannot meet them,” 
 he replied, but to-morrow, at breakfast 
 
 ‘‘ Well, to-morrow be it then,” returned Mr. Levison; 
 “ and by that time I shall be prepared with my plans.” 
 
 On the following morning, Denzil was first in the 
 breakfast room, for he felt that to wait till the family 
 were assembled, and to encounter all their eyes at once, 
 would have shaken his fortitude, and prevented his re- 
 taining that calmness which he flattered himself he had 
 succeeded in assuming. 
 
 Most heartily, however, did he repent his precipitation, 
 when, a few moments after he had taken his usual chair, 
 close to the large easy one appropriated to Mr. Levison, 
 Fanny slowly entered the room. 
 
 Evidently unprepared to encounter him there, she 
 started and hesitated ; but the tone in which he uttered 
 the usual salutations of the morning, forced as it was, 
 seemed to re-assure her, and, though with more restraint 
 of manner than was usual to her, she replied to him with 
 cordiality, and with kindness expressed her pleasure at 
 his recovery. 
 
 But those formalities having passed, each seemed to 
 feel the aukwardness of their situation — Denzil dared not 
 lift his eyes from the newspaper, which he held before 
 him, without being able to comprehend a word; and 
 Fanny began, with assumed anxiety, to examine the 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 121 
 
 superscriptions of two or three letters to Mr. Levison, 
 which were upon the table. 
 
 In a few minutes, however, they were relieved by the 
 entrance of Charles; but his very first words, instead of 
 removing, increased their mutual embarrassment. 
 
 “ Oh, oh,” he exclaimed, so you have made a good 
 use of your convalescence, Denzil, I perceive — stolen a 
 tHe-h-tHe already — I ought to beg pardon, I suppose, for 
 interrupting it ; but, the fact is, I am desperately hungry, 
 and want my breakfast. Come, Fanny, my darling, 
 make the tea. Aunt Rachel will be here in a moment — 
 she has only stopped on the stairs to commence her day’s 
 recreation by scolding the housemaid for leaving one of 
 the rods of the stair-carpeting unfastened; and, when 
 she has convinced her of her crime, we may expect to 
 see her.” 
 
 Aunt Rachel entered at the moment — hut she did not 
 attend to the general smile with which she was greeted, 
 but proceeded to inquire into Denzil’s health, and give 
 him some friendly cautions not “ to make too free with 
 himself,” &c. &c. — which lasted till Mr. Levison hob- 
 bled in. 
 
 ' “ I am glad to see you among us again, Denzil,” he 
 observed ; “ but you look like me — no great things. You 
 had better have taken Rachel’s advice, I think, and been 
 well doctored.” 
 
 I am no friend to the doctors, you know, sir,” re- 
 plied Denzil, assuming a cheerful tone; “and I hope I 
 shall get well without requiring their aid, on the present 
 occasion.” 
 
 “ I hope so, too,” returned Mr. Levison, “ but, I will 
 tell you candidly, I don’t like your looks — that hectic 
 
 R 
 
122 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 flush is not the indication of health — though, I suspect, I 
 could prescribe a better remedy than physic.’’ 
 
 “ Any thing woidd be better to me than physic,” 
 replied Denzil, blushing still deeper; for he felt rather 
 than saw that Fanny’s eyes were earnestly fixed upon 
 him. 
 
 Well, then, I will tell you at once,” replied Mr. Le- 
 vison, “ that my prescription would be a warmer climate 
 for the winter than England. What say you, Denzil? 
 Would you like to leave your friends behind you, and 
 take a trip — say, a regular tour — through France, Swit- 
 zerland, Italy, and, if you felt inclined—-” 
 
 I should, indeed, like it, sir,” said Denzil, eagerly, 
 and immediately comprehending his guardian’s intention; 
 
 that is,” he added, with some hesitation, I have no 
 wish to leave my friends behind me — but I should be 
 highly gratified to have it in my power, with your appro- 
 bation, to ” 
 
 “Say no more, my dear boy, the thing is settled; for 
 I am convinced it will be the best thing that can be done 
 for you— so make what arrangements you like, and as 
 soon as you like.” 
 
 “ You can never be serious, brother!” exclaimed Miss 
 Rachel, who saw with alarm the efiect this sudden an- 
 nouncement had made upon Fanny. “ You can never 
 seriously intend — if you think Denzil’s health so preca- 
 rious — to suffer him to go into a strange country alone ! 
 You must be mad, to think of such a thing!” 
 
 “ No, no, I am quite in my sober senses, I do assure 
 you, Rachel,” he replied. “ Denzil has no ailments but 
 such as change of air and scene will soon drive away, and 
 he will come back to us in a few months, as hearty and 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 1 
 
 strong- as ever. — But why do you look so pale and 
 solemn about it, Fanny? You have more sense, I hope, 
 than to fancy, because your friend and companion is going 
 to leave us for a few months, that he is never coming 
 back! Oh, yes — he will come back again, and that in 
 time to dance at your wedding. Mind, Denzil, though 
 — I bar your bringing back with you a French made- 
 moiselle, or an Italian signora — keep your heart whole 
 and sound, my lad, till you return, and in the meantime 
 I will look out for a wife for you.” 
 
 Denzil tried to speak, but his tongue refused utter- 
 ance. The tone of raillery which Mr. Levison had 
 assumed to support his spirits, completely failed of its 
 intended effect. He dared not raise his eyes to look 
 upon Fanny, lest he should behold, in her counte- 
 nance, emotions which would completely overturn his 
 assumed calmness, and he remained silent, while Mr. 
 Levison proceeded to point out the route he considered 
 it advisable for him to pursue. 
 
 During all this conversation, Charles, whose gourman- 
 dine was always more conspicuous than graceful, had 
 been silently occupied with his breakfast — but, having 
 now finished his repast, he threw himself back in his 
 chair, observing — “And now, uncle, may I be allowed to 
 move an amendment upon the ‘ original question,^ as they 
 say in the House of Commons ?” 
 
 “ Certainly, I am always willing to yield to your 
 superior sagacity, nephew,” said Mr. Levison, smiling'. 
 
 “ Well, then, I will tell you at once, that my propo- 
 sition will set at rest both aunt Rachel and Fanny’s 
 fears respecting Denzil’s being left alone and neglected 
 in a foreign country — and to effect this, I simply propose 
 that / may be allowed to accompany him !” 
 
124 
 
 THE GIPSY IMOTllEK. 
 
 Mr. Levison shook his head — 1 cannot agree to that, 
 Charles, for many reasons — one is, that we cannot spare 
 you. What do you think would become of us, all the 
 winter, without you to scold and laugh at? But, seri- 
 ously, I have other motives for denying your request, 
 and v/ill, at no very distant period, communicate them.” 
 
 Denzil’s heart throbbed with agony — He knew well 
 what were the motives to which Mr. Levison alluded, 
 and he scarcely attended to Charles’s discontented mur- 
 murings at his uncle’s determined refusal of his request, 
 Mr. Levison, however, turned a deaf ear to all he 
 could say on the subject; and, without either noticing 
 his sister’s reprobation of his project, or Fanny’s silent 
 consternation, demanded of Denzil how long it would be 
 before he could be ready. 
 
 Ready ! oh, I am ready now, sir — that is ” he 
 
 added, checking himself, “ I shall be quite ready to- 
 morrow.” 
 
 ‘‘ Yes, yes — but we shall not be quite ready to part 
 with you so quickly, Denzil,” replied Mr. Levison, 
 smiling ; “ besides, you will have some purchases to 
 make, and- a proper servant to procure — for your own 
 groom would be still more at a loss in a foreign country, 
 than he was when he first arrived here from Cum- 
 berland.” 
 
 1 should be sorry to part with the lad, sir,” said Den- 
 zil, “ he is honest, faithful, and intelligent, and, though 
 
 his manners are not very polished ” 
 
 “ You mistake me — 1 do not wish you to part witli 
 liim — but I think it will be necessary for you to have 
 another servant, who knows something more of the 
 world than he does.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 125 
 
 Bat I am afraid, dear sir, that two servants will he 
 prejudicial to my wish of travelling unnoticed,” observed 
 Denzil, and though Ned may blunder a little, and excite 
 some merriment by his clownishness, he is quick enough 
 in apprehension, and can soon comprehend and adapt 
 himself to those whom he is among. Besides,” he added, 
 forcing a laugh, “ I wish to begin my career economically. 
 It will be very easy, at any time, to enlarge my establish- 
 ment — but it is always rather a difficult matter to re- 
 trench.” 
 
 “ You are perfectly right, Denzil — perfectly right,” 
 said Miss Rachel. ‘‘ It is a proof that my brother’s con- 
 tidence in you is not misplaced — I wish Charles had but 
 half your prudence.” 
 
 “ I have never yet had an opportunity given me of 
 showing my prudence, aunt,” replied Charles. 
 
 During the whole of this conversation, Fanny had re- 
 mained silent; but Mr. Levison now addressed her. 
 
 ‘‘ You must give Denzil a commission, I suppose, 
 Fanny, for some gew-gaws from Paris. I must loosen 
 my purse-strings a little on this occasion.” 
 
 Fanny tried to speak, but her lips moved, without 
 uttering a sound. 
 
 Oh, you need not hurry yourself, my dear,” conti- 
 nued Mr. Levison, without appearing to notice her agi- 
 tation. ‘‘You can write down what you wish for, a day 
 or two hence.” 
 
 For the first time, Denzil ventured to look at her ; but 
 the anguish she endured was so visible throughout the 
 struggle she made to appear calm and indifferent, that it 
 struck like a dagger to his heart, and he turned to Miss 
 Rachel to conceal his emotion. 
 
126 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 You, too, madam, will honour me with some com- 
 mission, will you not? I will endeavour, faithfully, to 
 obey your instructions.” 
 
 ‘‘ Yes, my dear boy, there are several things I will 
 trouble you to purchase for me,” she replied, pleased 
 with his attention; ‘‘but, as my brother says, two or 
 three days hence will be time enough to think of that.” 
 
 Denzil, however, thought otherwise. He had now 
 his guardian^s permission to go, and he felt that every 
 moment of delay increased his misery. 
 
 Miss Rachel at last arose from the breakfast-table, 
 and, contrary to her usual custom, Fanny quitted the 
 room with her — Charles strolled into the library, and 
 Mr. Levison and Denzil were then left together. 
 
 “We have managed matters pretty well, my hoy,” 
 observed the former ; “ but I have made a discovery 
 which has given me a great deal of pain, and has also 
 convinced me that I have been acting very foolishly; but, 
 however, I hope this journey will make all right again; 
 for Fanny is a good and a sensible girl, and, I am sure, 
 would not wish to give me pain. I have been thinking, 
 Denzil,” he continued, after a pause, “ that you are per- 
 fectly right, in wishing to leave as speedily as possible. 
 Your preparations may be easily completed, for any pur- 
 chases you want, may be made as well in Paris as you 
 could make them here; and it will he advisable to 
 shorten, as much as possible, what I feel must be a com- 
 plete purgatory to both parties. If, therefore, you think 
 you shall be able to start to-morrow, I will give orders 
 for a chaise — your horses can follow with Ned; or, per- 
 haps, it will be better for you to go by the mail to 
 Dover — travelling alone, in a post-chaise, is not the 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 127 
 
 most pleasant thing’ in the world for a young man, quit- 
 ting, for the first time in his life, his home and friends.” 
 
 ‘‘ I should prefer the mail, certainly, sir,” replied 
 Denzil; and, as it must be obvious to you how desi- 
 rable it would be to avoid the ceremony of leave-taking, 
 it would, perhaps, be the most prudent way to say 
 nothing of my intentions, but to take my departure while 
 you and the family are at Mr. Irwin’s, to-morrow even- 
 ing, and leave you to make my excuses.” 
 
 “ You have exactly hit upon it, my good lad — I was 
 myself dreading the consequences of leave-taking, as you 
 say. I should not like Charles’s eyes to be entirely 
 opened, as to his cousin’s present feelings, and I very 
 much fear that would be the case, were we to have a 
 formal parting; but, by the means you propose, we shall 
 certainly avoid it.” 
 
 Mr. Levison now entered into the subject of the pecu- 
 niary arrangements, which Denzil, with gratitude, ac- 
 knowledged were more liberal than he either wished or 
 wanted. 
 
 I wish you to have every indulgence and comfort 
 the world can bestow, Denzil — your mother — but I will 
 not speak of her, she was injured and unfortunate, and I 
 acted cruelly, rashly, and unjustly. I have sworn to 
 protect you — to be a father to you, in every respect, and 
 I will keep my oath !” 
 
 Denzil hid his face with his hands, to conceal the tears 
 which shamed his manhood. 
 
 “ I am not sorry, on another account, that you are going 
 to leave England,” resumed Mr. Levison, after a few mi- 
 nutes’ silence. “ That man — how he contrived to discover 
 you, I know not — but I know that his motives for seek- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 j 
 
 iiig you, \Yere aiiytliiug' but honourable. He is a villain 
 of the deepest die! a villain, whose life has long" been for- 
 feited to the laws of his country! Yet, I wish not to be 
 the means of delivering him to justice! No — let his own 
 conscience — let the life of shame and misery he is leading 
 — be the avengers of his crimes! Your removal will, I 
 hope, prevent his ever crossing my path again; and should 
 ill fortune ever throw him in your way, shun him, Den- 
 zil, as you would the deadly serpent!” 
 
 I will — I will be guided by you, sir,” uttered Den- 
 , zil, in an agitated tone — “ One question, and one only, I 
 would solemnly ask you. You spoke, just now, of my 
 mother — say, is she yet living, or ” 
 
 “ Denzil, I will reply to you with sincerity — I may 
 never see you again, my dear lad, for, light as I have 
 seemed to make of our parting, I feel that it is very pro- 
 bable that, before you return, I may be food for the 
 worms! Nay, boy, do not let that thought fret you! 
 We must all go, some time or another — and I could be 
 better spared out of the world than many others — but I 
 have not yet answered your question. In the first place, 
 then, I must inform you, that what I have hitherto told 
 you, respecting your mother’s death, is not true — I most 
 solemnly assure you, that I am as ignorant of your 
 mother’s fate as yourself, — though I believe, that, were 
 she living, she would, long ere this, have sought her 
 children. I have every reason to conclude that she is no 
 more.” 
 
 Charles at this moment re-entered the room, and the 
 conversation dropped, much to Denzil’s dissatisfaction; 
 who wished to have ascertained what had been his mo- 
 ther’s name and situation in life, in hopes that he might 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 129 
 
 thus gain some clue by which he would be enabled to 
 trace her fate. 
 
 7’he word ‘‘children,” however, which Mr. Levison 
 had used, opened a new train of thoughts in his mind. 
 It was, then, plain that Fanny and himself were the 
 offspring of one mother, and the tales Mr. Levison had 
 hitherto told of her birth and age, were untrue, and in- 
 tended only as a means of deception. Why he should 
 have acknowledged her as his daughter, and have educated 
 him as the child of strangers, he could not account for; 
 but it was very evident that such was indeed the fact. 
 
 The disclosure which Mr. Levison had made, had, 
 however, one good effect — it prevented Denzifs entirely 
 dwelling on the subject which had hitherto absorbed all 
 his thoughts. The probability that his unfortunate mo- 
 ther was still living — living, perhaps, in poverty and 
 misery, had awakened a train of reflections in his mind, 
 Avhich had at least the good effect of dividing his atten- 
 tion, and preventing his dwelling altogether on that 
 which he could not consider without the deepest anguish. 
 
 “ I may yet be able,” he thought, “ to gain some clue 
 by which I may trace her fate, and perhaps ameliorate it. 
 He said that she was unfortunate, and he acknowledged 
 she had been treated with cruelty and injustice!” 
 
 A thousand tender feelings rushed into his mind — If 
 she should be, as in all probability she was, suffering the 
 evils of poverty, it was at least a proof that she had not 
 voluntarily submitted to a life of guilt and shame, and 
 that she had felt a proper spirit of resentment against her 
 seducer, — and that seducer was his father — the man 
 whom he had been accustomed to regard with filial re- 
 verence and respect — to whom he now owed every 
 
 s 
 
130 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 advantage he possessed, and whom, even now, he could 
 not hut regard as a model of generosity and feeling, in 
 spite of his avowal that he had acted otherwise. 
 
 There was one important circumstance, however, 
 upon which he was still ignorant, and that was, the name 
 and station in life of the unfortunate woman of whose 
 fate he avowed his ignorance. 
 
 Denzil blamed himself for not having, on the instant, 
 made the inquiry; but he considered that it would be 
 easy to repair this omission, and he resolved to renew the 
 subject on the very first opportunity. 
 
 Mr. Levison, however, evidently avoided recurring to 
 the conversation, and Denzil saw the hour fast approach- 
 ing which was to separate them, perhaps for ever — with- 
 out having been able to get the satisfaction he so earnestly 
 desired. He considered, however, that he could better 
 write on the subject than speak, and he resolved that, 
 the first time he wrote to Mr. Levison, he would plainly 
 ask him for the particulars he so much wished to learn. 
 
 No suspicion seemed to be raised in the minds of his 
 companions, that Denzil intended to leave them sooner 
 than the time that had been fixed by Mr. Levison for his 
 departure, and his declining to accompany them to dinner 
 at Mr. Irwin’s excited no surprise, as his want of both 
 health and spirits was evidently not a feigned excuse. 
 
 ‘‘ I would much rather stay at home, and keep you com- 
 pany, Denzil,” observed the kind-hearted Rachel ; “ you 
 look so pale and so melancholy, that lam sure you ought 
 not to be left by yourself; and I know Fanny thinks so, 
 too, though she does not say anything.” 
 
 Denzil dared not trust himself to look at Fanny, as he 
 replied, with a forced smile — ‘‘ Indeed, my dear madam, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 131 
 
 thoug'h I am very thankful, both to you and Fanny, for 
 your kindness, you may be assured that I shall be much 
 happier in knowing that you are enjoying yourselves 
 with the friends who, I understand, are to meet you at 
 Mr. Irwin’s, than I should be if you were to remain at 
 home, encouraging my vapours.” 
 
 “ Vapours, do you call them?” returned Miss Rachel; 
 “ indeed, Denzil, I should be very glad to believe them 
 mere vapours; but unfortunately, I know, too well, what 
 real iUness is, to be deceived by your declaration — and I 
 do say, decidedly, that you are really ill.” 
 
 shall be better by and by,” said Denzil, sighing; 
 “but I am sure it would not make me better, to know I 
 was the cause of keeping you at home, and disappointing 
 your friends. 
 
 Rachel gave up the point, though it was evidently 
 with great reluctance ; but at the moment she was going 
 to quit the room, followed by Fanny, whose looks alone 
 had declared her participation in her aunt’s feelings, 
 Denzil hastily followed them. 
 
 “ You are not going to leave me thus?” he observed, 
 — “ without shaking hands, and saying good-bye?” 
 
 “ Heaven bless you, my dear boy ” said Rachel, ex- 
 tending her hand with cordiality. “ Do, pray, take care 
 of yourself.” 
 
 “I will,” murmured Denzil; but he was scarcely 
 conscious that he spoke, for he was now holding Fanny’s 
 trembling hand in his, while, with a look of the keenest 
 apprehension, she seemed to seek in his countenance the 
 cause of his excessive agitation. 
 
 “ And will not you, Fanny,” he observed, in a low and 
 faltering voice, — “ will not you second your aunt’s prayer 
 for my welfare and happiness?” 
 
132 
 
 'IJiL >^lVhY .UO'lHi.li. 
 
 ‘‘Do you doubt it, DeuzH? — do you doubt ibat I wish — 
 that I pray — that every happiness may attend you?'’ she 
 replied. “ I am not changed, Denzil!” 
 
 “ Nor 1, Fanny,” returned Denzil. “Alas, I feel too 
 forcibly I am not changed ! But the time will come, when 
 you will know all, and when you do know it, you will 
 perhaps despise and loathe me, that I am not changed — 
 that I still love you desperately — madly love you — to my 
 utter destruction love you ! What a wretch, a very 
 wretch, am I making of myself!” he added, dropping her 
 hand, and retreating to a chair, on which he threw him- 
 self, as if overcome with agony. 
 
 Before Fanny could utter a word, the voice of Mr. 
 Levison, speaking angrily to some one, was heard on the 
 stairs, and Denzil started up and walked to the window, 
 to conceal his agitation. In a moment Mr. Levison 
 entered the room with Rachel, who had, unobserved by 
 Denzil, hastily quitted it, at the commencement of his 
 address to her niece. 
 
 “ What is all this about, Denzil?” he demanded, “ what 
 have you been doing to frighten these foolish w^omen 
 into the belief that you meditate some desperate act? Ra- 
 chel has been insisting that we are not to go out, or 
 leave you alone, and Fanny looks as if you had terrified 
 her out of her wits.” 
 
 “ I am very sorry, I am sure, sir, if I have inadver- 
 tently given any cause for such a supposition,” returned 
 Denzil, “ but certainly, there is not the least foundation for 
 any alarm — I neither meditate nor will commit any act of 
 which you would not approve, and I think that is quite 
 a sufficient guarantee for my conduct.” 
 
 “ How could you be so nonsensical!” said Mr. Levison, 
 turning to Rachel, “ I see nothing the mutter with the 
 
THE GIl'SY MOTHER. 
 
 133 
 
 lad, more than has been for some time — he will not be 
 better till he gets out of London; and the sooner he does 
 so, the better; for I am sure it Aviil not be the Avay to 
 get Avell, to be listening to your apprehensions and con- 
 jectures — so do, pray, come along, and do not tease him 
 any longer, with your old-womanish nonsense !” 
 
 Rachel knew it Avas in vain to oppose her brother, 
 Avhen he Avas decided on any subject; she therefore 
 beckoned Fanny to folloAV her, leaving Denzil alone Avith 
 Mr. Levison. 
 
 I did not think you Avere so destitute of proper 
 firmness, Denzil,” observed the latter, reproachfully; 
 “but I hope this is now all over, and you will act like 
 yourself, with energy and decision. Do you intend to 
 folio Av the plan Ave agreed on?” 
 
 “ Certainly, sir,” returned Denzil. I have noAv seen 
 Fanny for the last time, and I trust you Avill have no 
 further cause to blame me.” 
 
 “I do not blame you, my good lad — I doubt Avhetlier 
 I should have acted half as Avell as you have done — but 
 1 must not stand talking; for, in the first place, they 
 Avill suspect there is something betAveen ns, and, in the 
 second, I shall keep Irwin’s party Avaiting. Farewell, 
 therefore, my dear boy — be sure to Avrite, the moment 
 you land at Calais, and by every other opportunity.” 
 
 He shook Denzil by the hand, and hurried aAvay; and, 
 in a few moments, the latter heard the carriage drive 
 from the door. lie hurried to the AvindoAv to catch a 
 parting glimpse of Fanny — but it Avas too late — the blind 
 Avas drawn up on that side, and he returned to his seat 
 Avith a sensation of the bitterest disappointment. 
 
 Ihe entrance of his servant, to say that the Dover 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 181 - 
 
 mail would start from the Gloucester coffee-house, Pic- 
 cadilly, at seven o’clock, and that he had secured two 
 phtces, reminded him that he had no longer any excuse 
 for lingering there; and having written a few words to 
 Charles, alleging that his spirits were too weak to bear 
 a formal leave-taking, and charging him to make his 
 excuses to the rest of the family, he desired Ned to pro- 
 cure a hackney-coach to convey him to Piccadilly. 
 
 Ned, however, who had no notion of stealing away 
 from his fellow-servants, some of whom had been his 
 companions from infancy, as if, as he said, he had done 
 summat he was ashamed of,” had ventured, as soon as 
 Mr. Levison was gone, to communicate to them the fact 
 that he and his master were going to leave them; and 
 Denzil found it impossible to avoid the importunities of 
 Mrs. Williams, who attended herself with the tea-board, 
 and requested that he would take tea before he left. 
 
 Denzil saw that the old lady expected the compliment 
 that he would request her to make it for him ; and he 
 could not avoid gratifying her, though his heart was 
 torn to pieces by her remarks during the time he was 
 taking it. 
 
 Age and long service had given Mrs. Williams the 
 privilege of saying any thing she pleased, and she now 
 indulged herself in much pointed reprobation of Mr. 
 Levison’s conduct, in sending a young man like him into 
 the world, in such a way, after bringing him up as if he 
 had been his own son. 
 
 ‘‘ I am sure,” she continued, ‘‘ we have always 
 thought that it was a made match between you and Miss 
 Fanny, and that that was my master’s motive for keeping 
 you always together at home, instead of sending you and 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 135 
 
 Mr. Charles to college, like other young men ; and, 
 whatever you may think of it, Mr. Denzil, though you 
 do not say any thing, and so I do not know what your 
 opinion is, but I say again — however you may take it — 
 I am sure that Miss Fanny will go near to break her 
 heart, at your being turned out like a dog, as one may 
 say, to go wandering about in foreign parts. I little 
 thought, when you began to lose your fine colour, and 
 look so thoughtful and melancholy — I little thought what 
 was the cause of it — but I suppose Mr. Levison had told 
 you then what his intention was — though if I had known 
 it, I know, whether he had been angry or pleased, I 
 should have said a great deal that he would not have 
 liked to hear.” 
 
 Denzil was obliged to let her run on to the end of her 
 tirade, before he informed her that it was at his own 
 request that he was going abroad. 
 
 Mrs. Williams shook her head with an air of incre- 
 dulity. 
 
 ‘‘ You would persuade me, too, I dare say, that it is 
 Miss Fanny’s wish,” she replied, “ though the poor 
 thing has looked like death ever since ; and Lucy tells 
 me that she does nothing but sigh and weep, when she is 
 in her own room, and does not sleep one hour in the 
 night — she that was all spirits, and health, and good- 
 humour.” 
 
 “ Do not, pray do not say any more, Mrs. Williams — 
 every word that you utter, makes me ten times more 
 wretched !” exclaimed Denzil ; but, be assured, you 
 0re mistaken in thinking that Mr. Levison is the cause 
 of my leaving England.” 
 
 ‘‘ I wouldn’t care so much,” resumed the old woman. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 13C> 
 
 without tippoaiTiig' to notice what he said, I wouldn’t 
 lialf so much care, if you liad any friends or relations 
 liviug to g’o to, or to look after you; hut an orphan, 
 without any one to care for him, or protect him — and, 
 besides, what can be the reason that you are to go in this 
 dandestical manner, Avithout so much as saying ^ good- 
 bye’ to one that has been a sister to you, ever since you 
 Avere both babes together, as I may say ? Mr. Thomas 
 says that he can see through it all, and that master Avants 
 Miss Fanny to marry her cousin, and so sends you aAvay, 
 because he tliinks you might be a hindrance. And, 
 indeed, Mr. Denzll, if that’s his plea, I should not Avon- 
 der — for, not that I should say it, and I don’t speak it 
 out of any disparagement to my master’s nepheAV neither 
 — but he certainly is no more to be compared to you, 
 than chalk is to cheese.” 
 
 Ned entered to say that the coach Avas Avaiting, and tliat 
 it Avanted but a quarter of the hour appointed, and Deu- 
 zil, glad to escape from the torture he Avas suffering, rose 
 to depart. 
 
 The old Avoman Avas affected, even to tears, Avhen he 
 shook hands Avith her, and the servants all croAvded into 
 the hall, to utter their Avishes for his safety and speedy 
 return. 
 
 Denzil could scarcely command his voice to reply to 
 them Avith firmness, and having left a handsome testimony 
 of his gratitude toAvards them, in the hands of the butler, 
 he threw himself into a corner of the coach, and Avas 
 soon out of hearing of their prayers and blessings. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 137 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 The course of true love never did run smooth. 
 
 Shakspeare, 
 
 The first inquiry of Miss Rachel Levison, when she 
 returned from her visit, was whether Mr. Denzil was 
 gone to hed. 
 
 He is gone out, madam, replied the footman, 
 who did not like abruptly to ^communicate Denzil’s 
 departure. 
 
 Out !” repeated Miss Rachel, with astonishment. 
 
 ‘‘ Out !” echoed Charles, looking at his uncle, whom 
 he expected to see break out into a storm of passion ; 
 but, to his surprise, Mr. Levison’s countenance testified 
 neither anger nor alarm. 
 
 What can be the meaning of this, brother ?” de- 
 manded Rachel, turning to Mr. Levison. 
 
 It will all be explained, I dare say, to your satisfac- 
 tion,” he returned ; if you will come up stairs, and not 
 keep us standing here, where the wind is cutting my legs 
 like a knife ! I shall be laid up with the rheumatism, 
 to-morrow, I expect.” 
 
 Rachel hurried up stairs at this intimation, and, as 
 soon as they entered the drawing-room, again demanded 
 if her brother could explain the cause of Denzifs acting 
 so madly, so inconsistently. 
 
 T 
 
138 
 
 THE filPSY MOTHER. 
 
 He lias done neitlier the one nor the other !” said 
 Mr. Levison ; “ the truth is but where is Fanny ?” 
 
 Good heavens, brother, how you alarm me!” ex- 
 claimed Miss Rachel. “ Fanny cannot be far olf — she 
 was here, this moment — but what has that to do with 
 Denzil ? — I am all impatience-- ” 
 
 ‘‘ I dare say you are,” returned Mr. Levison, drily; 
 ‘‘ but is it not rather surprising* that Fanny should not be 
 equally anxious to know what has become of her friend 
 and companion?” 
 
 “ So it is, indeed,” said Miss Rachel, recollecting her- 
 self, ‘‘ I am really surprised that she should go away 
 at such a moment, — but do, pray, explain ” 
 
 ‘‘ It is. all explained, aunt,” observed Charles, who 
 had been reading' Denzil’s note to him, which had been 
 put into his hand by a servant ; ‘‘ Denzil is gone — has 
 taken French leave, because he could not bear a formal 
 parting.” 
 
 The mad, foolish, headstrong boy !” exclaimed 
 Rachel, and all the pains, then, I have taken, will be 
 throAvn away ! I was this whole morning preparing 
 the famous cordial that has cured so many of consump- 
 tion ” 
 
 ‘‘ But never cured one of our own family,” interrupted 
 Mr. Levison ; “ for, I believe, three-fourths of the last 
 generation of the Levisons have died of decline, though 
 they were no doubt plentifully dosed with your famous 
 recipe. I think, Denzil shewed much discrimination in 
 leaving it behind.” 
 
 “ And, I dare say, he has not even provided himself 
 with flannel clothing,” continued Miss Rachel. 
 
 Which he cannot have the slightest occasion for, in 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 139 
 
 the g-enial climate to which he is going,” added Mr. 
 Levison ; ‘‘ but do, pray, if you have concluded your list 
 of his omissions, go and see what has become of Fanny — 
 learn what has induced her to run away in this unac- 
 countable manner.” 
 
 ‘‘I am going, brother — but I only want to know 
 
 whether Denzil had your approbation ” 
 
 He had — he had — there’s enough of it — now do go 
 and look for Fanny.” 
 
 ‘‘ What has my brother taken into his wise head about 
 Fanny?” said Miss Rachel, as she left the room. Surely, 
 he does not fancy that she has run away, too — Poor 
 girl,, she will fret, I dare say, when she finds Denzil is 
 gone !” 
 
 Fanny, however, was already in bed, and, as she pre- 
 tended, almost asleep, when Miss Rachel approached her 
 bed-side. 
 
 “ Would you believe it, my dear,” she observed, 
 “ Denzil is gone — and without even saying good-bye?” 
 
 Indeed !” replied Fanny, without raising her head 
 from her pillow; “well, I am not surprised, aunt; for 
 it is all of a piece with his late conduct. But, never 
 mind, do not let it disturb you — It shall not break my 
 rest !” and again she pretended to be too sleepy to talk. 
 
 Rachel, however, unsuspicious as she was, could 
 scarcely believe that this indifterence was real. She 
 looked at Lucy, who was busied in folding her mistress’s 
 dress, and immediately read in her countenance a confir- 
 mation of her suspicions; and, having waited till the lat- 
 ter had concluded her task, she beckoned her out of the 
 room, leaving Fanny apparently fast asleep. 
 
 “ What did your mistress say, when she came up 
 
140 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 stairs, Lucy.^^” she demanded, “ Was she aware, do yon 
 think, that Mr. Denzil was gone?^’ 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, yes, ma’am, I am sure she was,” returned the 
 girl, “though she did not say a word; but began to 
 undress herself, the moment she came into the room; 
 but she looked — oh, so dreadful! — that I was quite 
 frightened. I told her that I was sure she was very ill, 
 but she said, ^ Oh, no, Lucy, I am only tired and sleepy 
 — so make haste, and undress me !’ and I heard her mut- 
 ter to herself — ‘ No, never — never-never I I will die 
 first!”’ 
 
 “ Ah ! I know very well what that meant,” said Miss 
 Rachel, “ but my brother is so obstinate!” 
 
 “ Fanny is gone to-bed, brother,” she observed, on 
 entering the drawing-room. 
 
 “ Without even saying good-night?” returned Mr. 
 Levison, in an angry tone. ‘‘ I am surprised that she 
 should have so little regard to common civility.” 
 
 “ You should make some little allowance for her, bro- 
 ther — she is much agitated at what she has heard from 
 you this evening.” 
 
 “ Pshaw, nonsense ! what right can she have to lie 
 agitated— what right can a girl like her have to 
 form ” 
 
 Miss Rachel glanced towards Charles, who, with 
 Denzil’s note still in his hand, was standing apparently 
 in deep meditation. 
 
 What is the matter with you, Charles ?” demanded 
 Mr. Levison, “ jmu look as if you were displeased at 
 your friend’s giving you the slip ; but I think he acted 
 very prudently and wisely.” 
 
 “ Very likely,” returned Charles ; “ but I was not 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 141 
 
 thinking of that just now — I was thinking’ how hard it is 
 tliat I> who would give the world to enjoy the advantages 
 he has, of seeing every thing worth seeing, am to be 
 cooped up here: and he, who wants to stay at home, is 
 driven abroad.” 
 
 Mr. Levisoii was startled at this indication of rebellion 
 against his authority 
 
 “ I thought I gave you a pretty clear explanation of 
 my views, this evening, young man,” he observed. ‘‘ 1 
 certainly was forced into it rather prematurely, but it was 
 my intention to acquaint you with my wishes the first op- 
 portunity; and, let me tell you, Charles, I believe there 
 are few young men who would receive such an intimation 
 with the indifference you seem to shew. Fanny Levison, 
 witli the fortune I can give her, is a match for any noble- 
 man in England ; and you ought to consider the offer I 
 have made you as the highest proof of my regard for you 
 and your interests ” 
 
 I know all that, uncle,” interrupted Charles ; ‘‘ and, 
 I am sure, I am not ungrateful to you, but ” 
 
 ‘‘But what?” demanded Mr. Levison angrily, observ- 
 ing he hesitated to finish the sentence. 
 
 “ Why then, sir, I will tell you the truth,” said 
 Charles. “ I have no inclination to marry — and, even if 
 I had, I have been so accustomed to consider Denzil and 
 Fanny ” 
 
 “ I tell you it is no such thing, sir !” exclaimed Mr. 
 Levison, with vehemence. “ Denzil knows his duty to 
 me better than to think of such a thing — and it Avould be 
 well for you to Imitate his example, and learn to pay pro- 
 per deference to the dictates of those who are the best 
 judges of what is right and proper for you,” 
 
142 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ My uncle will not persuade me that I don’t know 
 what is right and proper in this instance,” said Charles, 
 after Mr, Levison had quitted the room, in violent resent- 
 ment at the disposition his nephew had shown to oppose 
 his wishes. I know it cannot be right anrl proper 
 that he should endeavour to make Denzil, Fanny, and 
 me miserable, in order to gratify his whims; for if he 
 thought Denzil good enough for a match with Emma 
 Lazenby, — which I know he did, for I could see he 
 tried to set him off in her eyes, at every opportunity, 
 before we left Cumberland, — he cannot pretend that 
 he is not a sufficient match for his daughter. Besides, 
 why should I be forced into matrimony against my incli- 
 nation? — I am not the first of the family who has pre- 
 ferred a single life !” 
 
 Rachel, to whom these observations Avere addressed, 
 observed, with a smile, “ You would be the first, Charles, 
 I suspect, who at your age formed a resolution, or even 
 felt an inclination, to live single; and, I must confess, 
 I very much doubt your sincerity, in expressing any 
 aversion to matrimony. I am inclined to believe, that 
 if it Avere Emma Lazenby, instead of Fanny Levison, 
 Avhom your uncle proposed to you ” 
 
 “ Indeed, aunt, you are mistaken!” interrupted Charles, 
 colouring violently. Emma is a very nice, good- 
 humoured girl, and I Avas always glad of her society, 
 because she is so cheerful that she made us all alive, Avhen 
 she Avas at the Hall — but I never thought of her in any 
 other light.” 
 
 I am glad to hear it,” returned Miss.Rachel, be- 
 cause, AAdiatever your uncle might think of her, as a suit- 
 able match for Denzil, I do not think he would agree to 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 143 
 
 your marrying' her, even if he were to g-ive up his plan 
 of uniting’ you to your cousin, which he is not at all 
 likely to do.” 
 
 But which he will be forced to do, I rather suspect!” 
 muttered Charles, as he bade his aunt good-night. “ I 
 wish,” he continued, as soon as he got out of hearing, “ I 
 only wish that Denzil had stayed, and supported me, as I 
 would have supported him, and I would have been bound 
 to conquer — though I will defeat them now, for I will not 
 have Fanny, and that’s flat — not only because I don’t 
 want to be shackled with a wife, before I’ve known what 
 it is to be my own master, but because I know it would 
 break poor Denzil’s heart, if any one should have her but 
 himself.” 
 
 Fanny’s appearance at the breakfast-table, on the fol- 
 lowing morning, sufficiently betrayed ' the effect which 
 the occurrences of the evening had produced upon her. 
 Yet she affected to be in good spirits — spoke of Denzil’s 
 clandestine departure as a trick, which she would some 
 time or other revenge upon him; and laughed at her 
 aunt’s regret at his having left behind all the preparations 
 she had made for him, or without hearing the many ex- 
 cellent cautions she intended to have given him. 
 
 ‘‘ There is another misfortune, too, which you have 
 forgotten to enumerate, my dear aunt,” she observed, 
 laughing. Denzil has, by his stolen march, avoided 
 the trouble of executing our commissions, of which, en- 
 couraged by papa’s promised liberality, I had ventured 
 to make a tolerable long list — I suppose, however, I 
 must make up my mind to be content Avith my old frocks, 
 and scarfs, and shawls, and ribands, instead of figuriug, 
 as I had anticipated, in neAV ones, d la Francoise’^ 
 
THE GirSY MOTHER. 
 
 ] 14 
 
 “ (31i, no, Fanny, we can easily manage to repair that 
 omission,” replied Mr. Levison, who took all she said 
 literally, though it was very obvious that Fanny was en- 
 deavouring, by this raillery and badinage, to disguise her 
 uneasiness. We can very easily write to Denzil, as soon 
 as he gets to Paris, and request him to purchase what you 
 want.” 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, no, papa, pray do not burthen the poor young 
 man, with any trouble on my account,” returned Fanny, 
 in a sarcastic tone. ‘‘ My aunt, of course, may do as she 
 pleases about her Eau de Cologne, and the rest of her 
 Avants; but I am quite content Avith English manufac- 
 tures. But recollect, papa, although I shall certainly not 
 trouble Denzil to buy any thing for me, I shall call upon 
 you for the money you intended to bestow upon me for 
 that purpose — I dare say I can find a better Avay of dis- 
 posing of it, than in buying French gcAv-gaAvs.” 
 
 I am ready to ansAver your demand, Avhenever you 
 please to draAV — provided you are not too unconscionable, 
 Fanny,” returned Mr. Levison, Avho Avas delighted to 
 see his daughter bear so Avell an event Avbicli he Iiad 
 feared would have had a very different effect upon her ; 
 but Fanny, though she thus successfully disguised her 
 feelings, Avas in reality suffering the bitterest anguish, at 
 Denzifs apparent desertion and cruelty. 
 
 Fler father had on the preceding evening, in reply to 
 an insinuation of Mrs. Irwin’s, respecting Denzil’s ob- 
 vious attention to Miss Fanny Levison, replied 
 
 ^‘You are quite mistaken, I assure you, Mrs. Iinvin — 
 Denzil Montgomery has no such vicAA's or intentions as 
 you attribute to him ; and, as I Avish at once to put an 
 end to all conjectures on the subject, and do justice to 
 
THE GIPSY MO'J'HEIG 
 
 145 
 
 the poor lad, I will assure you that Denzil is acquainted 
 with, and fully approves the union which I propose shall 
 take place between my daughter and her cousin Charles. 
 There are reasons which render it impossible that Denzil 
 should entertain such feelings towards Fanny as you 
 more than hint at ; and I trust you will be convinced of 
 it, when I tell you that he is going immediately to the 
 Continent, and will not return until long after Fanny has 
 been united to Charles.” 
 
 This, though said in a low voice, and apparently not 
 intended to be heard by either of the parties concerned, 
 reached the ears of both. Fanny liad been somewhat 
 prepared for it, by the hints she had received from her 
 aunt ; but Charles was utterly astonished at a proposition 
 which had never for a moment entered his thoughts, and 
 which was quite as unacceptable to him, as to his cousin. 
 
 Charles, indeed, spoke the truth, when he assured both 
 his uncle and his aunt Rachel, that he had never yet en- 
 tertained a thought of matrimony ; for he was too volatile, 
 and too little accustomed to reflection, ever to have 
 thought of any plan for his future life ; and looked for- 
 ward to his attaining the age of manhood, only as the 
 period when he should be freed from the troublesome 
 restraint in which he was kept by his uncle, who, con- 
 scious that his nephew possessed no extraordinary strength 
 of mind, or powers of conduct, seemed to think it ne- 
 cessary on all occasions to treat him as a boy, incapable 
 of judging for himself, and scarcely to be trusted out of 
 sight. 
 
 This was certainly the worst method Mr. Levison 
 could have adopted, of improving his nephew’s deficien- 
 cies : but Mr. Levison had never been a very accurate 
 
 u 
 
 t 
 
14G 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 reasoiier, and in seeking- to remedy present evils, he fre- 
 quently overlooked the important ones which might 
 result from the course he pursued. 
 
 But though Charles’s habits of dependence on his 
 uncle and Denzil, who were in every case his oracles, 
 had prevented his reflecting very deeply on the subject, 
 it was certain he entertained a more than ordinary pre- 
 dilection in favour of Emma Lazenby, the young lady to 
 whom his aunt had alluded, on the evening when Mr. 
 Levison had thought fit to make known his intentions 
 respecting the future settlement of his daughter. 
 
 Emma was the only child of a widow lady of family 
 and fortune, and was certainly, as Charles had delineated 
 her, a lively, good-humoured girl ; but these qualities 
 were not her only attractions. She was also very pretty, 
 and would be, if she married with her mother’s consent, 
 very rich ; and these various advantages had suggested to 
 Mr. Levison’s mind, in one of her visits to the Hall, that 
 she would be a very suitable wife for Denzil, who was a 
 very great favourite with her mother. 
 
 Denzil, however, had turned a deaf ear to Mr. Levi- 
 son’s hints, and the young lady herself seemed totally 
 imcouscious of his project. Charles, — whose gaiety and 
 love of fun (as he called it) approximated much nearer to 
 her own disposition, than the more grave and sensitive 
 Denzil, who sometimes even ventured to disapprove and 
 prevent their schemes of mischief, when they were likely 
 to wound the feelings of others, — was the decided favourite 
 of the romping, mirth-loving Emma ; and the preference 
 she uniformly showed him, was not without a correspond- 
 ing eflect. Charles Levison’s heart was not susceptible 
 any very deep or tender feelings, but his aunl/s 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 147 
 
 observation, and Mr, Levison’s open avowal of his inten- 
 tions towards him, now awakened him to the fact that he 
 preferred Emma Lazenby much before his cousin Fanny, 
 and infinitely before any other girl in the world. 
 
 ‘‘ If I am to marry, I will have Emma, and nobody 
 else !” was his magnanimous resolution, when he retired 
 for the night; ‘‘and so I will tell my uncle, the first 
 opportunity.” 
 
 That opportunity, however, did not occur, until letters 
 from Denzil to himself and Mr. Levison, announced the 
 arrival of the former in France, and related that he had 
 formed a very pleasing acquaintance with an Irish family, 
 whom he had first met on board the packet, and to whom 
 the name and situation in life of Mr. Levison seemed well 
 known, though they had not explained by what means 
 they had become acquainted with them. 
 
 “ Mr. Delaney, the head of the family, is a very well- 
 informed, intelligent man,” wrote Denzil, “ and his lady is 
 a clever, sensible woman — the daughters are two romping, 
 laughing Hebes, to whom my gravity, and the melancholy 
 which I cannot get rid of, when I think of the friends I 
 have left behind me, render me a very unsuitable compa- 
 nion, though they are too good-natured to laugh at me. 
 They often put me in mind of our pretty little favou- 
 rite, Emma Lazenby — especially the younger, who re- 
 sembles her ill person, and still more in the love of mis- 
 chief. The only son is about my own age, and the least 
 agreeable of the family; for his education seems to have 
 been neglected, which I am much surprised at, and he is 
 impetuous and overbearing in his manners; though I 
 am perhaps ungrateful in making these observations — for 
 to me he is extremely courteous; but you charged me, 
 
14.8 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 dear sir, to be particularly candid in my remarks upon 
 such society as I might fall into, and, you see, I am lite- 
 rally obeying your instructions. 
 
 I do not know whether our travels together will 
 extend farther than Paris, whither we shall proceed in a 
 few days, Mr. Delaney having very politely expressed a 
 wish that I would remain with them until then. He has, 
 indeed, been of much service to me in this my first debut, 
 having before travelled on the Continent, and being 
 thoroughly acquainted with the customs, &c. which, 
 without his assistance, would rather have embarrassed 
 such a novice as myself, especially with such an incum- 
 brance as Ned, who is a more inveterate ‘John Bull’ 
 than ever — and, I believe, will never smile again, until 
 he gets back to canny Cumberland. Ned, indeed, ex- 
 tends his antipathies to foreigners so far, that he will not 
 condescend to acknowledge even the natives of the sister 
 kingdom as his countrymen; and I have had no little 
 trouble, I assure you, to induce him to be upon civil 
 terms with Mr. Delaney’s Irish servants, A scrape, how- 
 ever, which he got into with some of the town’s-people 
 yesterday, and which he was indebted to the adroit- 
 ness of the two Irishmen for getting out of without far- 
 ther mischief than the loss of his new chapeau, has, I 
 fancy, taught him the policy of forming a treaty offensive 
 and defensive with his companions; and I trust I shall 
 have no more domestic broils. Mr. Delaney is highly 
 diverted at Ned’s nationality, but I have had some diffi- 
 culty in reconciling his son to it. 
 
 “ Tell my dear aunt, — for so I hope I may still be 
 allowed to call her, — that she need be under no appre- 
 hensions for me; for, were I inclined to neglect her 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 149 
 
 advice and cautions against carelessness, she has an excel- 
 lent substitute in Mrs. Delaney, who is quite what she 
 would call a motherly woman. She is as kind and 
 careful of me, as if I were her own son.” 
 
 ‘‘ I do not like these sudden friendships,” observed Mr. 
 Levison, “ I shouldn’t at all wonder if these people turn 
 out no great things after all.” 
 
 “ That is just like you, brother,” said Miss Rachel, 
 ‘‘ always suspecting people, though nobody is more apt 
 to be taken with fresh faces than yourself. Now, for my 
 part, I am very happy to think the poor lad has met with 
 such comfortable people — are not you, my dear?” turn- 
 ing to Fanny. 
 
 ‘‘ Very,” returned Fanny, laconically, ‘‘ but that is not 
 all the letter — is it, papa?” 
 
 ‘‘All that is worth reading, my dear,” replied Mr. Le- 
 vison, hastily glancing his eye over the remainder of the 
 letter, which he then put into his pocket. “ The boy is 
 mad !” he murmured, after some minutes’ silence, during 
 which he appeared to have been meditating on something 
 that had been said in the latter part of the letter. “ He 
 has certainly lost his senses!” he repeated, apparently 
 unconscious that all eyes were fixed upon him with 
 curiosity, and that Fanny’s pale face varied from pale to 
 red, and then to pale again, twenty times in a minute. 
 
 “ I don’t think he has been in his right senses a long 
 time,” observed Charles. “ I am sure he has not acted 
 as if he was — but what is the matter now, uncle?” 
 
 “ Nothing that concerns you, nephew,” returned Mr. 
 Levison, with quickness ; “ nor, indeed,” he added, after 
 a moment’s hesitation, during which he had, for the first 
 time, observed Fanny’s agitation, “ is there anything that 
 
150 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 anybody need be concerned about — ‘ — for it is all foolish 
 nonsense, and so I shall tell him, when I write.” 
 
 No further remarks were made, but Fanny’s looks 
 betrayed that her father’s explanation was by no means 
 satisfactory to her. 
 
 Again and again, during the course of the day, Mr. 
 Levison reverted to Denzil’s acquaintance with 
 the Delaneys, and each time with increased dissatisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 “ What can they know of me ?” he observed ; “ I am 
 sure I know nothing of them — for, to my knowledge, I 
 never heard the name before — besides, if they are what 
 they pretend to be, people of respectability, why not at 
 once say where and how they know me ?” 
 
 “ They must at least be people who move in a 
 respectable sphere,” returned Miss Rachel, ‘‘ for 
 Denzil speaks of their servants, as if they had several.” 
 
 “ Irish bog-trotters, I suppose, hired for thirty shil- 
 lings a year, and fed upon butter-milk and potatoes,” said 
 Mr. Levison. 
 
 How can you be so uncharitable, brother ?” observed 
 Rachel. 
 
 “ And how can you be so credulous, sister ?” said 
 Mr. Levison; you Avould let any sharper impose upon 
 you, if they made a little show. I tell you again, I do 
 not like this new acquaintance, and I shall certainly 
 speak my mind on the subject, when I write.” 
 
 Poor Denzil ! he will be hnely tormented with my 
 uncle’s wise cautions,” observed Charles, when Mr. 
 Levison left the room; “ but I only wish, notwithstand- 
 ing his suspicions, that I Avas with these Delaneys ! I 
 should see a little more life than I do here, for I am 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 1.51 
 
 sure it is enough to tire one to death, to go on in this 
 humdrum manner.” 
 
 Fanny smiled for the first time since DenziPs depar- 
 ture. “ A fine compliment you pay your companions, 
 Charles,” she replied. 
 
 “ Well, Fanny, I do not mean any thing to your dis- 
 advantage,” he replied ; “ but, you must own, that the 
 house is ten times duller, and my uncle ten times more 
 sour and disagreeable, since Denzil has been gone. I am 
 sure, I wish we were down in Cumberland again, for 
 there I could go out hunting or fishing, or doing some- 
 thing, without being lectured or tormented with ques- 
 tions or advice, as I am here, where I cannot go out for 
 half an hour, without my uncle’s being in a fright, and 
 fancying I have got into some mischief or another. I 
 declare I think it will be a good plan for me to get into 
 some scrape, on purpose to drive him down into the 
 country — for I would not give a farthing to stay in Lon- 
 don, now Denzil is gone.” 
 
 Nor I,” said Fanny, sighing deeply. 
 
 “ Cousin,” said Charles, looking earnestly at her, ‘‘ did 
 you hear the fine plan my uncle has got in his head, and 
 which I suspect has been at the bottom of all Denzil’s 
 strange vagaries, and the cause of his being sent off* — for 
 I’ll never believe he went voluntarily.” 
 
 I did hear it, Charles,” returned Fanny, “ and 
 heard it with the same feelings that I suspect and hope 
 you did.” 
 
 “ If you mean that you heard it with a determination 
 never to marry without you loved, and without the 
 object of your choice loved you, I certainly did hear it 
 with the same feelings and determination,” replied 
 
152 
 
 'I'l/E (iil’SY MO'J'IIER. 
 
 Charles, and, to speak my mind candidly, Fanny, that 
 could not he the case now; for, as to love, I know 
 nothing about it yet, and I hope I nev^er shall, if it is 
 to make me as miserable as it does most people ; and, as 
 to you, 1 know very well that you could never love me 
 as a husband.” 
 
 “ You are quite right, Charles,” said Fanny, seeing he 
 expected an answer. “ I have been too much accustomed 
 all my life to regard you as a brother, to have any other 
 feelings towards you.” 
 
 ‘‘ Ah, it is not exactly that, Fanny,” returned Charles; 
 “ because you might just as well say the same of Denzil, 
 but the fact is, I know that Denzil and you do love one 
 another; and I think it is very hard and very shameful 
 that you should be parted, just to please my uncle’s 
 whims.” 
 
 And, allowing all this,” said Fanny, while an arch smile 
 for a moment illumined her fair face, at her cousin’s plain 
 matter-of-fact manner, ‘‘ I say, Charles, granting it all to 
 be perfectly correct, what is to be done ? Denzil, you see, 
 has renounced me without a struggle, and it cannot be 
 supposed that, whatever may have been my feelings 
 towards him, I shall ever seek to renew the bond which 
 he has so readily broken. Nevertheless, my dear cousin, 
 
 I entreat you not to be at all alarmed at my father’s sug- 
 gestions, for I will give you any pledge you like, that I 
 will never agree to them ; and, to imitate your own plain 
 manner of dealing, Charles, I will promise you solemnly, 
 that neither my father nor any one else shall induce me, 
 for a moment, to think of you as a husband.” 
 
 I know all that, very Avell, Fanny,” returned Charles; 
 
 ‘‘ but that is not exactly what I was aiming at — I know 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 lo3 
 
 that you never give me credit for any one thought ; and 
 you and Denzil have often ridiculed me for my Machia- 
 velianism, as you called it; but I think I have something 
 in my head now, which would set every thing straight, 
 put an end to my uncle’s wise speculations about you, 
 and perhaps be the means of his consenting for you to 
 marry Denzil.” 
 
 And what is your present device?” demanded Fanny, 
 with surprise. 
 
 “ Why, then,” said Charles, “ I will tell you at once, 
 I anny. Suppose I was to get married to some one else, 
 'vvithout consulting my uncle about it, do not you think 
 tliat would at once set the matter at rest?” 
 
 ‘‘As far as concerns you and me, certainly,” said Fanny, 
 scarcely able to forbear laughing at his manner; “ but it 
 strikes me that there are some difficulties to the execution 
 of your plot. In the first place, where are you to find the 
 jady, because you have declared that ” 
 
 “ Oh, never you mind that,” interrupted Charles, 
 with quickness. “ I only want to get to Cumberland 
 again, and then you shall see !” 
 
 “ Ob, I understand you, now, Charles,” replied Fanny; 
 “ but do you think Mrs. Lazenby would consent that 
 Emma -” 
 
 “ If Emma is the girl of spirit 1 take her for,” said 
 Charles, “ we need not care anything about whether she 
 consents or not. We shall not, like you and Denzil, be 
 contented to be miserable, because other people choose to 
 be contrary, and think themselves wiser than us.” 
 
 “ But has Emma any idea of your intentions ?” de- 
 manded Fanny, who began to discover that Charles’s plot 
 was not merely the thought of the moment, but had been 
 
 X 
 
154 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 before entertained by him. “ I did not know that she 
 and you corresponded,” she added. 
 
 If you will promise to keep the secret faithfully, 
 Fanny, I will tell you all about it,” he replied. 
 
 “ Can you suppose, Charles, that I would be so unge- 
 nerous as to betray you,” returned Fanny, ‘‘ when you 
 are acting so disinterestedly towards me?” 
 
 “ Well, then, read this,” producing a letter from his 
 pocket-book. “ Emma and I agreed,” he continued, 
 that if anything particular happened to either of us, we 
 would write to one another; so, when Denzil went away, 
 and I found out what my uncle’s intentions were, I wrote 
 to tell her, and this is the answer I received.” 
 
 “ You have been very sly, cousin Charles,” said Fanny, 
 smiling, as she opened the letter, which was as follows — 
 
 “ Dear, dear Charles, 
 
 ‘‘ How you have surprised me about Denzil, and 
 how I do pity poor Fanny, who, I am sure, must be 
 ready to break her heart — I know I should break mine, 
 if I were in her situation, though, indeed, dear Charles, 
 I’ve got quite enough to fret about myself, I do assure 
 you, though I’ve made up my mind I will not fret) 
 neither — for I know that neither mamma, nor any one 
 else, can make me have a man I don’t like — and, if you 
 really are true and sincere, Charles, in wha^ you say, I 
 will solemnly promise that I will never, never marry any 
 one but you ! But you will wonder what all this is about 
 — for I forgot that I have not written to you since I 
 answered your first letter, when you first went to Lon- • 
 don — I was dull enough then, for I did nothing but think 
 of you, and what pleasures you were enjoying in town. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 155 
 
 while I was going- on in the same dismal manner, from 
 day to day, and week to week. 
 
 “ Well, mamma found out, at last, that I had lost my 
 spirits, and was losing my colour — so she proposed that 
 we should take a trip, for a week or two, to Scarborough 
 — I was very well pleased, you may be sure ; but I wish 
 now I had never gone, for at the rooms I danced with a 
 gentleman, named Sir Francis Thoresby, who took it into 
 his head to fall in love with me, though he is, I am sure, ten 
 years older than I am ; but mamma says, ten years is 
 nothing in a man’s age — but he’s a grave, stern, wise-look- 
 ing gentleman, one that nobody never dare laugh with, 
 nor at, and therefore, you may be sure, not a bit suitable 
 to me. He was a very good dancer, though, for all his 
 gravity — and as you know I hate a bungling partner, I 
 was not sorry when I found that he always selected me 
 for his partner, whenever he had an opportunity ; and as 
 we stayed a fortnight, we were often together. But this 
 was not all, he contrived to make himself quite a favourite 
 with mamma, and asked and received permission to visit 
 us, if he should come into our part of the country, which 
 he said he should very soon, as he had a relation living at 
 Theswick. 
 
 “ I was still so stupid that I did not suspect what all this 
 meant, until, a few days after we got home, mamma put a 
 letter into my hand from Sir Francis, proposing himself 
 as my husband, and offering such settlements as mamma 
 said were unexceptionable, and such as no woman in her 
 senses could think of refusing. 
 
 ‘ No woman, perhaps, mamma,’ I replied, ‘ who was a 
 suitable match for him — but I am not a woman, but a 
 girl, not out of her teens, and I certainly shall refuse 
 them.’ 
 
!“)() rilE r,Il>.SY 
 
 “ I need not tell you how mamma raved and stormed, 
 when she found that I persisted in my determination — 
 nor how frightened I was, spite of all my spirit and ob- 
 stinate resolution that I would keep my word to you, 
 when I saw Sir Francis Thoresby, in his dashing cur- 
 ricle and pair of beautiful bays, and his two servants 
 with bright new grass-green liveries, with plenty of gold 
 lace, drive up the long elm avenue. 
 
 Well, to make short of my story, here he has been 
 ever since, backwards and forwards, walking and driving 
 mamma and me about every where, making parties for 
 us, on the water and on the land, until it is all over the 
 country that he is going to marry me directly ; but he is 
 not one bit the nearer gaining my heart by all this, 
 though you know I dearly love gaiety and pleasure, and 
 that I believe is the reason you and I always agreed so 
 well together. 
 
 I have not yet told mamma that I have made up my 
 mind never to have anybody but you — but I am 
 resolved I will not have Sir Francis — for if you were to 
 be false to me, and marry Fanny, after all, I will never 
 have any one, although I hate the name of old maid. 
 
 ‘‘ I thought of writing to Fanny, but I do not know 
 what I should say to her, for perhaps she would be 
 offended if she were to know that you have told me all 
 about her and Denzil — though I must say, it is quite 
 foolish delicacy of her and Denzil, too, to suffer them- 
 selves to be made miserable all their lives, just to please 
 Mr. Levison, who, cross as he sometimes used to be, I 
 never thought could have been so cruel. 
 
 “ I have come quite to the end of my paper, so I can- 
 not write any more, except to beg that you will make 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 157 
 
 as much haste as you can to come back, and see if you 
 and I tog-ether cannot devise some means to get rid of 
 this Sir Francis, whom I hate more and more every 
 day. 
 
 “ Your affectionate 
 
 “ Emma.” 
 
 “ You see, cousin Fanny,” said Charles, as she 
 returned him the letter, I need not long he looking for 
 the lady, as you said — but I should like to have your 
 advice, whether I ought first to apply to Mrs. Lazenb}^, 
 and tell her how attached Emma and I are to each other. 
 She used to be very partial to you, and perhaps, if I were 
 to state fairly to her how happy she would make, not 
 only her daughter and me, but you and Denzil, if slie 
 
 would agree to my having Emma ” 
 
 “ I am afraid, Charles, that the knowledge that your 
 uncle has quite different views for you, would be very 
 little inducement to Mrs. Lazenby to favour your suit, 
 and would not be likely to procure her consent. On the 
 contrary, I am apt to think that it would only increase 
 her predilection for Sir Francis, and induce her to be 
 more positive with Emma.” 
 
 ‘‘ I have been thinking so myself,” said Charles, with 
 a desponding look, “ and I do not know hoAv to act — for, 
 you know, neither Emma nor I are of age ; and it will 
 be so long to wait — besides, I have another reason to 
 wish it settled ; and that is, that I think it will be the 
 means of making you and Denzil happy — because, if I 
 were quite out of the way, I cannot see what reasonable 
 objection he could make to your marrying Denzil.” 
 
 ‘‘ Perhaps not, my dear cousin,” returned Fanny, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 h;S 
 
 ‘‘ but 1 entreat that you will act only for your own hap- 
 piness, and not think at all about me or Denzil ; because, 
 to tell you a secret, I do not believe Denzil entertains 
 any such wishes as you seem to attribute to him. To 
 imitate your candour, Charles, and speak plainly, as you 
 liave done, I will tell you that I do not think that Denzil 
 Montgomery, were he at liberty to do so, would make me 
 the object of his choice. You look incredulous, Charles 
 — but, I assure you, I do not speak this on slight grounds 
 — nay more, I have every reason to conclude, from his 
 own words and observations, that he has himself created 
 a bar between us, which can never be removed. How 
 this is, or can be possible, I am at a loss to understand ! — 
 I have puzzled myself, till I have almost lost my power 
 of reflecting, in trying to comprehend what passed at our 
 last interview, but of this I am assured, that, whatever 
 has occurred, Denzil has given up every idea of ” 
 
 The tears, which she had struggled to restrain during 
 this explanation, now burst forth, and suppressed the 
 remainder of the sentence, while Charles in vain 
 attempted to console her by declaring that she must be 
 mistaken, for that he was sure he knew every secret of 
 DenziPs heart, and knew that that heart was undividedly 
 hers. 
 
 “ I will know, however, and that soon,” he thought 
 to himself, “ what Denzil’s real sentiments and intentions 
 are; for I will write to him, and tell him all that has 
 passed, and insist upon his giving a direct answer to my 
 question — whether, if my uncle could be brought to 
 reason, he would not be most happy to come back 
 directly, and marry Fanny?” 
 
 ‘‘ Never mind, cousin,” he observed, ‘‘ do not cry — for 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 159 
 
 if Denzil could act as you think, he would not be worth 
 your tears ; and, if you are mistaken, you can have no 
 reason to cry — ^for I know all will be right, as soon as 
 ever I am out of the way, and that will not be long first, 
 you may depend upon it — only let me hit upon some 
 plan to frighten the old gentleman down into the coun- 
 try, and I will be bound Emma and I will lay our heads 
 together to some purpose, in a short time.’^ 
 
 Fanny smiled through her tears, at the cavalier tone 
 in which her cousin spoke of his intentions — but a mo- 
 ment’s reflection told her that she was wrong, thus tacitly 
 to encourage her cousin in views which might involve 
 himself and Emma in misery. Both were minors, and 
 both were entirely dependant on their friends and guar- 
 dians. Fanny, indeed, was inclined to suspect that, 
 though Charles was the legal heir of the Levison estates, 
 after the death of his uncle, he had but a very slender 
 provision independent of him until then; and as to Emma’s 
 fortune, she had heard that it entirely depended on her 
 marrying with her mother’s consent. 
 
 As cautiously and delicately as possible she hinted 
 these circumstances to Charles, who however treated them 
 with great indifference. 
 
 I dare say,” he observed, “ my uncle would be very 
 angry, and swear that he would never forgive me — and 
 it is likely Mrs. Lazenby would do the same, for a little 
 while — but they would both be brought to reason, as 
 soon as the thing was done; and we very well know 
 their pride and dignity, if nothing else, would prevent 
 their letting us starve.” 
 
 Fanny could offer no farther arguments to dissuade 
 him, and Charles retired to ponder over the important 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ir>o 
 
 plans he formed, and to write to Denzil Montgomery, 
 requiring a categorical answer to the questions he pro- 
 posed — namely, whether he would not advise him to run 
 away with Emma Lazenby, if he could not succeed any 
 other way; and whether, if he did so, he (Denzil) would 
 not instantly come back, and demand permission of Mr. 
 Levison to marry Fanny. 
 
 Fanny would persuade me,^’ he observed, in conclu- 
 sion, “ that you have no such wishes, and that there is 
 some bar to your union, which can never be removed — 
 but I do not believe a word of this, and so I told her — 
 but I could not persuade her out of it; and so I beg you 
 will be candid, in reply to this, and write so that I may 
 shew her your letter, if you will not write to her; and I 
 suppose, with your usual romantic generosity, you have 
 given a pledge to my uncle, that you will not tempt her 
 from her duty.” 
 
 Have you anything to say to Denzil, either of you?” 
 inquired Mr. Levison, the next morning at breakfast- 
 time. “ I am going to write to him, this morning.” 
 
 No one answered but Miss Rachel, who said that she 
 wished her brother would request Denzil to execute the 
 commissions she had given to him, previous to his de- 
 parture. 
 
 ‘‘And have you nothing to say to him, Fanny?” 
 demanded Mr. Levison, looking earnestly at her. 
 
 “No, papa,” she returned, with assumed carelessness, 
 “nothing — only that I am glad he is so comfortably 
 situated, and that I wish him all possible happiness.” 
 
 “And I shall say notliing at all, sir, for I am too angry 
 at his abrupt departure, and his silence to me,” said 
 Charles, giving Fanny a sly look. 
 
THE GIPSY Mt^OTHER. 
 
 161 
 
 “ Very well, I shall faithfully attend to your instruc- 
 tions,” observed Mr. Levison. 
 
 Through the means of the servant who was entrusted 
 with the task of conveying Mr. Levison’s letter to the 
 post-office, Charles obtained the address to which Denzil’s 
 letters were to be forwarded; and, at the ver^' moment 
 that Mr. Levison was congratulating himself that all 
 communication, which could threaten any danger to his 
 favourite project, was cut off between Denzil, his daugh- 
 ter, and Charles, the letter of the latter, destined to re- 
 animate Denzil’s hopes, was on its way to him. 
 
 ‘‘ Don’t be surprised or frightened at any thing you 
 see or hear, to-night,” said Charles to his cousin, a few 
 mornings after the letter to Denzil had been despatched. 
 “ I have been trying in vain to persuade my uncle to g'o 
 down to the Hall, a few weeks earlier than he intends — 
 but he is as obstinate as a bear, now Denzil is gone, and 
 so I must try what I can do in the way of manoeuvre.” 
 
 ‘‘ Mind you do not get yourself into mischief, with 
 your manoeuvring,” replied Fanny, smiling — 7“ what are 
 you going to do?” 
 
 Charles shook his head with an important air — 
 
 “ Be innocent of tlie knowledge, dearest ‘ coz,’ 
 
 Till you approve the deed,” 
 
 he replied, as he quitted the room. 
 
 At dinner-time, Charles did not make his appearancje. 
 
 Mr. Levison testified great anger and impatience at his 
 negligence, and, after waiting a few minutes, commenced 
 dining without him. 
 
 During the whole of the meal he continued grumbling 
 and scolding — but when, after having kept it much longer 
 than usual on the table, the cloth was at length removed, 
 
 Y 
 
162 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 an apprehension began to seize him that something more 
 than mere negligence and inattention must occasion his 
 nephew’s absence. 
 
 Charles’s servant was summoned, but he only knew' 
 that his master said he should go for a stroll into the park 
 till dinner-time. 
 
 Another half hour passed away, and Mr. Levison’s im- 
 patience and anxiety increased — the two footmen were 
 then despatched, to search the park for him, but they 
 returned without any intelligence that was satisfactory, 
 although one of them had learned that a young gentle- 
 man, exactly answering Mr. Charles Levison’s descrip- 
 tion, had been seen to leave the park, by the Queen- 
 square gate, in company with two females. 
 
 Mr. Levison was frantic with rage and anxiety at this 
 information, especially as it was given in the presence of 
 Fanny. ^ 
 
 Midnight had nearly arrived, but Charles had not 
 made his appearance — and Fanny was on the point of 
 endeavouring to relieve her father’s now really painful 
 anxiety, by repeating what her cousin had said in the 
 morning, when a loud knocking was heard at the door; 
 and before Mr. Levison, followed by Fanny and aunt 
 Rachel, could reach the bottom of the staircase, the voice 
 of Charles, in a most uproarious state of intoxication, 
 was heard in the hall. 
 
 Where have you been, sir ? — what is the meaning of 
 this disgraceful scene?” exclaimed Mr. Levison, who now 
 perceived that his nephew was accompanied by two 
 watchmen, and that the hall was nearly filled by strangers, 
 who had pressed in with them. “ Good Lord, we shall 
 be all robbed and murdoi-Ad !” exclaimed the old gentle- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 168 
 
 man, shrinking back, and elevating the crutch-stick with 
 which he always supported himself. 
 
 Fanny ran up a few stairs, more than half frightened, 
 though she thought she caught a glance from her cousin, 
 which betrayed that he was not in reality so incapable of 
 conducting himself as he pretended to be. 
 
 ‘‘Watchmen!” exclaimed Mr. Levison, “why do you 
 not do your duty? why don’t you turn all these people 
 out? what business have they here, at this time of 
 night ?” 
 
 “ They are witnesses, your honour, against your son 
 here, who has been breaking the lamps, and abusing us 
 like pickpockets,” replied both the watchmen at once. 
 
 “ Aye, and — now I’ll break — both your heads,” hio 
 cuped Charles, making a rush towards them. “ I’ll tea — 
 teach you to interrupt a-a gentleman in his diversions.” 
 
 Charles now attempted to run at the watchmen, but 
 before he reached them, he fell on the ground, and a loud 
 shout and laugh from the bystanders raised Mr. Levison’s 
 anger and consternation still higher. 
 
 “ What is it you demand ? what satisfaction do you 
 want, my friends ?” he demanded. 
 
 “ Why you see, your honour, his young honour has 
 broken two or three lamps, by throwing half-pence at 
 ’em, and he gave us a precious race after him, up to this 
 liere door, besides squeezing my lingers in trying to shut 
 me out, when he got in ; and then he called us all sort 
 o’ blasphemious names, and said as how he’d punch our 
 heads to jelly ; and then he’s kept all these people as see 
 his houtrageus proceedings, from going about their law- 
 ful business; so, you see, your honour, this would all 
 come to a pretty considerable sum, if so be he was to be 
 
TJIE Crll’SY MOTHER. 
 
 \(rh 
 
 took’d before a magistrate, as he ought to be, — only that 
 your honour seems to Im a reasonable gentleman, and 
 one as would’nt wish poor people to be abused, only be- 
 cause a gentleman like your honour’s son chooses to 
 get ” 
 
 “ There — there — ” interrupted Mr. Levison, that’s 
 fjuite enough. He’s not my son, but that’s no matter — I 
 don’t wisli to give you any further trouble about him — so 
 just say what will satisfy you and your witnesses, and let 
 me go to bed in quiet.” 
 
 “ Well, then, your honour won’t think a couple of gui- 
 neas too much — considering we shall have to make good 
 the lamps,” returned the watchmen; ’‘and a shilling a 
 piece, I suppose, will satisfy these people; and may be your 
 honour will give ’em five shillings beside, to have a drop 
 o’ beer amongst them.” 
 
 “ They shall have my heart first !” roared Charles ; 
 ‘‘ extortionate villains ! would you impose upon my dear, 
 patient, unsuspicious uncle? — Give me a sword and pistols, 
 that I may exterminate them, and rid the earth of such a 
 nest of vipers.” 
 
 “ Don’t go for to threaten us, master,” observed one of 
 the watchmen, holding up his staff ; “ for if you do, I 
 won’t take no money — but have you off to the watch- 
 house in a jiffy ; and I call upon all these here honest 
 people, as you have mislested by calling ’em wipers^ to 
 haid and hassist me in keeping the king’s peace and pro- 
 tecting his horficers /” 
 
 “How much will do, my good man? how much will do?” 
 exclaimed Miss Rachel, rushing into the midst of them, 
 in terror at tlie thoughts of her nephew’s being carried oft' 
 by force to the watch-house. ‘‘ Here — here’s four guineas, 
 
■urc'^ mf&ts w-iik yo^. y^'U viu|ii-aCi.o\is :-rasc<»:' 
 
 ' .-.>v:.= rvf ;3 to i'ii.s X.cp^i -v/ X 
 
 
 Q 
 
now, for goodness’ sake, go about your business, and clear 
 the house of these people — you can settle with them, out 
 of doors !” 
 
 Charles, who was now apparently only prevented from 
 doing personal violence to the watchmen, by the ettorts of 
 the servants, who, at his uncle’s commands, had laid fast 
 liands upon him, now vociferated a whole host of male- 
 dictions and threats of vengeance upon the watchmen, 
 who, liaving got hold of the money, quickly made their 
 exit, with all their followers ; but, on throwing the door 
 wide open, to allow them to pass, Mr. Levison dis- 
 covered that the house was completely surrounded with a 
 mob, awaiting the issue of the fracas they had witnessed. 
 
 “ A pretty night’s work you have made, you ungra- 
 cious rascal !” he observed to his nephew, when the door 
 had closed on the motley group. 
 
 “ Yes, and I have had a pretty day of it, too,” hic- 
 cuped Charles, and I’ll tell you what, nunky — I’ll 
 have a pretty many more such pretty days and nights, 
 too, for I will not be cooped up any longer like a 
 chicken, but I’ll do as others do, and enjoy life ! I 
 
 have been to Vauxhall, nunky, with but don’t tell 
 
 Fanny ” 
 
 Will you get to bed now, if you please, sir, and not 
 disturb us any longer with your profligacy ?” exclaimed 
 Mr. Levison ; and Fanny, my dear, pray go up stairs 
 — and you, too, Rachel, I am sure this is not a proper 
 scene for you to be witnesses of.” 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ Ah, Fanny — pretty Fanny !” ’ sang Charles, as she 
 ran quickly up stairs, scarcely able to refrain from laugh- 
 ing, though she felt angry with her cousin, for having 
 carried his manuiuvre (as he called it) so far; for his look. 
 
106 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 as he turned towards the stairs, and extended his arms in 
 a theatrical attitude, confirmed, her in the conviction that 
 the whole was only a trick upon his uncle. 
 
 The plan, however, completely succeeded. — At break- 
 fast the next morning, Charles pleaded a violent head- 
 ache, as the cause of his absence, and Mr. Levison, in 
 one of his sourest moods, announced to his sister his 
 determination to return home, on the first day of the 
 following week. 
 
 ‘‘ So soon, brother ? — you forget, we have two engage- 
 ments,” returned Miss Rachel ; ‘‘ on Tuesday we are to 
 go to ” 
 
 “ I do not care any thing about it, Rachel — I Avill not 
 stay any longer than I have fixed, if we were engaged to 
 the king himself ! 1 am heartily sick of London, and I 
 will get that foolish young rascal home, before he becomes 
 confirmed in vice — I would not again go through such 
 a scene as that of last night, if I were to gain a kingdom 
 by it !” 
 
 Charles affected to look very downcast and penitent, 
 when he encountered his uncle at the dinner-table. Mr. 
 Levison, however, detected the smile, which Charles 
 could not suppress, at hearing his uncle’s announcement 
 of his intention to leave London, without delay. 
 
 ‘‘ You laugh, sir, I suppose, because you think I am 
 not serious ; but, to convince you I am, I shall insist 
 upon your setting out to-morrow morning, with Thomas, 
 who is going down to the Hall by the mail, in order to 
 get ready for our reception.” 
 
 Charles had some difficulty to conceal his satisfaction at 
 this arrangement. 
 
 “ You might let me remain till you go, uncle,” he 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 167 
 
 observed, without raising his eyes — ‘‘ I have made 
 
 an engagement, that I, cannot very well get out of ” 
 
 And how dare you, sir, make engagements, without 
 consulting me?” exclaimed Mr Levison; “ what society 
 
 have you, or ought you to have ” 
 
 I am sure, uncle,” returned Charles, “ they are very 
 respectable people — though 1 met with them by accident; 
 and the sister is one of the most pretty, interesting girls 
 that ” 
 
 Fool! Puppy! how dare you form acquaintance with 
 pretty interesting girls, and — but Fll not be disputed 
 with — I’ll have you go into the country to-morrow 
 morning — so let me hear no more!” 
 
 “ But you will allow me, uncle, at least, to go this even- 
 ing, and tell them I am going out of town — and, indeed, 
 I must go, because, if I recollect right, though my head 
 was rather confused, I think I lent somebody two or three 
 guineas, and I dare say they will be honourable enough 
 to set me right about it — I know I could not have spent 
 so much as I had in my pocket, and yet it was all gone.” 
 
 Mr. Levison raised his hands and eyes in astonishment. 
 
 Pretty company, indeed!” he exclaimed; “ honourable? 
 Yes, I dare say they will be honourable enough to rob 
 you again, and perhaps murder you, if they get you into 
 their haunts. I only wonder you got home safe at all; 
 pray, had you your watch with you?” 
 
 ^‘Yes, uncle, but I took care to hide it.” 
 
 “ Oh, then, it seems you were doubtful of your asso- 
 ciates! Well, thank goodness, it will be the last time. I’ll 
 take care, that you shall run yourself into such dangers — 
 at least while you are under my jurisdiction. You must 
 do as you please, when you get out of it — and so I beg I 
 
168 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 may have no more of your foolery, but get yourself 
 ready to set olf, as I told you before.” 
 
 “ Have I not succeeded capitally, cousin?” said Charles, 
 when Fanny and he were left together. “ I hope you 
 will never laugh at my plots again.” 
 
 “It was rather an expensive one, Charles,” returned 
 Fanny, smiling. 
 
 “ Why, yes — it certainly cost the old gentleman some- 
 thing — but that was owing to the rogues of watchmen. 
 1 haul no suspicion the fellows would have been so exor- 
 bitant, as they had no trouble, and I had previously ex- 
 plained to them that it was only a joke, that I wanted to 
 play upon my uncle.” 
 
 “ Then you were not, in reality, intoxicated,” said 
 Fanny, “ and, I suppose, the rest of the story was all 
 feigned ?” 
 
 “ Exactly so,” returned Charles, with an air_of exul- 
 tation. “I dined very comfortably and quietly at a coUhe- 
 housc, went afterwards quietly and comfortably to Vaux- 
 hall, and came home soberly and orderly, till I got to the 
 corner of this street, where I concerted my plan with the 
 w'atchmen, who were ready enough to fall into it, and 
 seemed cordially to join in the fun of frightening the 
 old country gentleman.” 
 
 “ And duping the young one,” said Fanny, smiling. 
 “ However, 1 acknowledge, Charles, that you have per- 
 fectly succeeded in your object, and that, I suppose, is 
 praise sufficient to satisfy even your vanity; but now, 
 how do you mean to proceed ? I am very fearful that your 
 rashness ” 
 
 “ My rashness! come, that is a good one!” replied 
 Charles, as if you ever knew me do any thing. 
 
THE (flPSY MOTHER. 
 
 1 () 1 ) 
 
 without coolly calculating the consequences. If I was as 
 romantic, indeed, or as violently in love as some people 
 I know, there might he reason to fear my acting raslil}'. 
 By the by, Fanny, I shall be oft' before we can possibly 
 expect a letter from Denzil — do not let my uncle get 
 hold of it, on any account — for I know he would not be 
 at all scrupulous as to opening it, and there may be some- 
 thing in it, that I should not wish him to see.” 
 
 “ But how am I to prevent it ?” returned Fanny, 
 
 Oh, I will take care to give James instructions to look 
 out for it, and give it to you, and you had better open it 
 as soon as you get it, because there may be something 
 in. it that will require an immediate answer.” 
 
 But I could not answer it,” returned Fanny, 
 hastily. 
 
 “And why not?” demanded Charles; “but, how- 
 ever, I do not want you to do any thing you do not 
 approve of — but you will not, I suppose, object to read 
 the letter — especially when I tell you that I know 
 beforehand it will be written purposely for your perusal.” 
 
 “ For my perusal?” returned Fanny, in surprise; “ I 
 cannot understand you.” 
 
 “ Read the letter — read the letter, as soon as you get 
 it, and that will explain all,” returned Charles, with an 
 air of self-confidence ; “ and all that has puzzled you in 
 Denzifs conduct will, I have no doubt, be explained to 
 your satisfaction.” 
 
 Fanny shook her head mournfully — “ I doubt it very 
 much,” she observed ; “ but, however, if you conceive 
 that it is proper I should open the letter, I will do so.” 
 
 “ Certainly, and if there is any thing that it is necessary 
 I should know immediately, you can write to me, if, as I 
 
 z 
 
170 
 
 THK GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 suspect, my uncle should shew an inclination to remain 
 longer in town than he now talks about.” 
 
 “ I hope he will not, I am sure,” returned Fanny, 
 sighing, for I am heartily sick of London, and all 
 belonging to it.” 
 
 « Why, yes, I must say, our visit to London has not 
 turned out quite what we expected,” returned Charles ; 
 “ but keep up your spirits, Fanny — all will end happily 
 yet!” 
 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not. 
 
 Love may sink by slow decay. 
 
 But by sudden wrench, believe not 
 
 Hearts can thus be torn away. — B yron. 
 
 Mr. Levison’s anxiety and watchfulness, till the hour 
 arrived for his nephew’s departure, was a source of 
 abundant merriment to the latter, who mischievously 
 contrived to heighten it, by affecting the greatest reluct- 
 ance to go. 
 
 Fanny’s gravity, too, little as she felt inclined to mirth, 
 was put severely to the test, when her father observed to 
 her, that, as he had a suspicion that Charles would try to 
 give Thomas the slip, he should himself go with them, and 
 see them safe off by the mail ; but she was obliged most 
 seriously to remonstrate with her cousin, to keep him 
 from carrying the joke farther. 
 
 Thank heaven !” exclaimed the old gentleman, when 
 he returned, “ I have seen the ungracious proHigate safe 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 171 
 
 off — and I will take care, when he again gets into a 
 scrape, it shall be his own fault, and not mine — for never, 
 while he is under my control, shall he again set his foot 
 into London.” 
 
 In a few days after the departure of her cousin, the 
 servant, whom Charles had spoken to on the subject, put 
 a letter into Fanny’s hand, which she immediately recog- 
 nised as being in the hand-writing of Denzil. A thou- 
 sand tumultuous thoughts rushed into her mind as she 
 gazed upon the well-known writing, which Charles had 
 declared would at once satisfy all her doubts and fears. 
 She longed, yet dreaded to open it. Should Charles 
 have deceived her, and should the letter not be intended 
 for her sight— would she not bitterly repent having 
 opened it, and would not Denzil have reason to condemn 
 her indiscreet curiosity ? 
 
 Twenty times was she on the point of breaking the 
 seal, and then, as if restrained by some secret power, she 
 again laid the letter down, to reflect on what she was 
 about to do. The consideration that Charles would, per- 
 haps, blame her, should it contain any thing that required 
 an immediate reply, at length determined her. The seal 
 was broken, and, with a palpitating and agonised heart, 
 after a few introductory sentences, she read as follows — 
 
 ‘^You require of me, Charles, to answer clearly, and 
 without evasion, the questions which you say your regard 
 for me and your cousin has induced you to put. They 
 are soon — 1 was going to say easily answered — but the 
 agony that wrings my very heart-strings while I write 
 this, contradicts the assertion that it is easy to answer 
 them. I will, however, difficult as it is, imitate your 
 plain-dealing, and assure you that 1 have no intentions 
 
172 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 nor wishes towards your cousin, hut such as a brother 
 would feel towards a beloved sister. You ask me, if a 
 mistaken principle of gratitude and generosity towards 
 your uncle, ought to induce me to render his daughter 
 miserable i I earnestly hope that Fanny’s happiness or 
 misery can be but little influenijed by me — but I do most 
 solemnly assure you that no such motives as you assign 
 have influenced me. It was not at your uncle’s wish, but 
 my own earnest request, that I quitted England — pro- 
 bably, never to return ; at least, I fear the time when I 
 can return with satisfaction to myself, is far, very far dis- 
 tant. You ask me if there is any bar, unconnected with 
 your uncle’s disapproval of the attachment, which you de- 
 clare still exists in my heart towards your cousin ? Une- 
 quivocally, and without reserve I reply — that there does 
 exist a bar, which no human power can remove — a bar, 
 which I cannot, without incurring the heaviest guilt, even 
 wish removed — and now let me turn from this painful 
 subject, to what you say of your own feelings and in- 
 terests. 
 
 “Yon are determined, you observe, let my answer be 
 what it will, that you will not comply with your uncle’s wish 
 of uniting you to your cousin. I can scarcely believe that 
 you could seriously reject so precious a gift ! You tell 
 me that you are certain her heart is given to me — Heaven 
 
 forbid ! miserable, indeed, should I be, if I thought 
 
 but I dare not dwell on that idea — I dare not let my 
 thoughts wander to that theme. To return to yourself:— 
 let me entreat you, Charles, not to reject the happiness 
 which is in your power ! Where can you find one so 
 qualified to secure you the most perfect felicity this 
 world can afford, as Fanny Levison ? Mad, worse than 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 173 
 
 mad, you must be, should you throw away such an ines- 
 timable jewel as her love. 
 
 “ With regard to her being-, as you say, as determi- 
 nately bent as yourself to defeat the wishes of her father, 
 I can only say I do not believe it, Charles. I know, too 
 well, every feeling- of her pure, innocent heart, to believe 
 that she would wilfully resolve to render her father 
 nnhappy, by refusing- to comply with his wishes, when 
 she must know they are solely (lirected to her happiness; 
 or that she would sully her ov/n dignity, by continuiug- 
 to nourish a passion for one who — who, at least, avows 
 that he never can — that he never dare wish to be aught 
 to her but that which he now is — a warm, devoted friend; 
 a brother in love, if not in name. But I leave to Mr. 
 Levison the task of reconciling Fanny, should she need 
 any persuasion to induce her to dismiss from her mind all 
 recollection of those hopes which I acknowledge I once 
 ventured, as well as her, to cherish — — ” 
 
 “ He need not fear!” exclaimed Fanny, dashing down 
 the letter, with proud contempt. Oh no, he need not 
 fear that the despised, scorned, rejected being, whose 
 happiness he affects to be so careful of, will need any 
 more powerful arguments than his own conduct furnishes, 
 to induce her to forget that she has ever regarded him in 
 a different light. It is a poor, a paltry evasion !” she 
 continued, recurring again to his assertion that there 
 . existed a bar to their union. ‘‘ What bar can there be, 
 but such as his own false heart has forged? And yet he 
 h;is ever been the most honourable, the most candid 
 being that ever bore the name of man! Can he, then, so 
 utterly have changed his character ? — can he so totally 
 have forsaken his principles, as deliberately to frame a 
 
174 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 tale of falsehood ! Oh, no, there is some mystery — some 
 dreadful secret — and my father is acquainted with it ! 
 He is satisfied of its veracity, and he has sanctioned, if 
 not advised Denzil to leave England — to become an exile, 
 perhaps, as he says, for ever !” 
 
 Again and again she read the letter, which contained little 
 more than that which has been already given, except that 
 at the conclusion Denzil observed, that, though he sat 
 down with a determination to comply with Charles’s 
 wish, that he should write such a letter as might be 
 shown to Fanny, he felt that he had not succeeded, and 
 therefore must leave it to him (Charles) to explain, in 
 the best manner he could., all that he wished to explain. 
 But, though Fanny read, and re-read the fatal mandate, 
 which sealed the separation of her and Denzil for ever, 
 in vain did she try to fathom the mystery which enve- 
 loped his conduct and declarations. What could be the na- 
 ture of the bar which he declared no human power could 
 remove ? At length, a ray of light, as she believed, broke 
 in upon her — He is married !” she exclaimed ; “ in some 
 moment of folly or madness, he has contracted an indis- 
 soluble engagement, which he now bitterly repents, and 
 which renders it guilt, even to think of me — or I to 
 think of him,” she added, after a few moments’ pause, 
 during which a thousand corroborating circumstances 
 seemed to rush at once into her mind. “ Yes,” she con- 
 tinued, ‘‘ I must indeed learn to consider him only as a 
 friend, as a brother — but why did he not avow the truth, 
 at oiK^ ? — why leave me to suspense and painful conjec- 
 ture? — alas, it is some connexion too disgraceful to avow 
 — one that will probably entail misery and disgrace upon 
 him, should it be known.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 170 
 
 It was in vain, however, that Fanny, thong'll firtnly 
 convinced that she had discovered the true solution of 
 the mystery, endeavoured to recal to her recollection 
 any circumstance which could fix the fact to any^precise 
 period of time, or enable her to identify the female 
 who had thus, as she believed, stepped in between her, 
 and her happiness. 
 
 Had it been her cousin Charles, who had acted so, she 
 would not have been surprised ; for his gallantries 
 among the girls of the village adjacent to Levison Hall, 
 had more than once exposed him to censure and reproof 
 from his uncle. But on this head, Denzil had always 
 acted the part of a monitor to his thoughtless companion, 
 and often — very often, had Mr. Levison held up his 
 (Denzil’s) conduct as a model for imitation to his 
 nephew. 
 
 Look at Denzil,” he would say, ‘‘ who can be 
 gayer than he is? — who can enjoy himself, or promote 
 mirth better among the young folks than he can? — who 
 is more admired than he is ? — You know well, half the 
 girls are in love with him — and yet he never acts so as to 
 raise a blush on their cheeks, or have cause for one on 
 
 his own ! while you but I am ashamed to draw a 
 
 parallel between you !” 
 
 And can it then be possible,” thought Fanny, ‘‘that 
 Denzil could sutfer these praises to be bestowed on him, 
 while he was secretly harbouring a disgraceful attachment 
 — secret, indeed, it must have been — and artfully must 
 it have been conducted — to have escaped even the prying 
 curiosity, which forms so prominent a feature in Charles’s 
 character ! Not even the slightest trace, however, it is 
 plain, has ever come to his knowledge — for no considera- 
 
17G 
 
 THE HIPSY MOTHEK. 
 
 tioH on earth, I know, would have kept him from blazon- 
 ing- forth that which lie would have considered a complete 
 triumph, and a vindication of his own misdoing's.” 
 
 It was in vain, however, that Fanny tried to argue 
 against the probability that Denzil had so entangled him- 
 self — the glaring fact that he avowed that an impedi- 
 ment existed to their union, which no human power 
 could remove, stared her in the face, and it would admit 
 of no interpretation but that she had given to it ! 
 
 A summons to breakfast interrupted her meditations. 
 
 Agitated as she was, and unht to bear the inquiries which 
 she knew would be made the moment she appeared, she 
 was still too anxious to learn whether there was any 
 thing in Denzii’s letter to her father, which she had 
 seen lying on the table, that could throw any light upon 
 the subject which perplexed her, to frame any pretext 
 for refusing to attend the breakfast-table. 
 
 “ What is the matter, my dear ?” demanded her aunt, 
 the moment she entered the room. 
 
 I am not very well,” returned Fanny, hastening to 
 take her seat, without daring to look towards her father, 
 after the first glance, which disclosed to her that he was 
 busily engaged o-^r Denzii’s letter. 
 
 Rachel’s looks betrayed her concern and curiosity at 
 her niece’s appearance, for though Fanny had never 
 looked well after Denzil’s departure, the alteration had 
 never been so striking as at the present moment. She 
 saw, however, that Fanny was desirous of escaping 
 notice, and she refrained from making any farther 
 inquiry, resolving, however, not to let her niece evade 
 her anxiety, when they should be left alone with each 
 other. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 177 
 
 111 ! she does look ill,” exclaimed Mr. Levison, 
 when he had concluded the perusal of his letter ; ^ hut 
 I do not wonder at it, for she, and all of us, have had 
 much vexation lately. Here is a letter from Denzil, I 
 am sure, would vex a saint — he spurns at all my cautions 
 respecting’ these Delaneys, who appear to have com- 
 pletely fascinated him ! I should not wonder if the next 
 thing’ we hear is, that he is married to one of these 
 Irish Hehes.” 
 
 Fanny involuntarily started ! It was not that such an 
 idea might not have occurred to herself, had she considered 
 Denzil at liberty to form such an engagement; but she 
 had persuaded herself that Denzil was already mar- 
 ried, and believed, too, that her father Avas fully 
 acquainted with the important fact. His manner, how- 
 ever, instantaneously convinced her that she had mis- 
 judged on this point, and thus the whole train of reason- 
 ing by which she had convinced herself that such Avas 
 the case, fell to the ground at once. 
 
 “It Avould not in the least surprise me,” continued 
 Mr. Levison, Avithout appearing to notice her agitation, 
 “ if the very next packet brings me a formal requisition 
 from the papa, to allow my ward’s addresses to his 
 daughter — or, perhaps, it will be more convenient 
 to them, and prevent all unpleasant inquiries, to 
 knock up the match first, and then send to me for my 
 consent.” 
 
 “ I do not see Avhy you should Avithhold it, brother,” 
 observed Miss Rachel, “ if satisfactory proof is given 
 that the family are such as he represents them to be.” 
 
 “ You do not see!” returned Mr. Levison, in that 
 peculiarly quiet and significant . tone Avhich he always 
 
 2 A 
 
1*78 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 assumed, when he wished to mark strongly his contempt 
 of his sister’s arguments or understanding. 
 
 “ But you surely would not refuse from mere national 
 prejudice, papa ?” said Fanny, exerting herself to speak 
 with calmness and apparent indifference, yet secretly 
 anxious to draw from her father some conclusive obser- 
 vation. 
 
 No, my dear,” he replied, with mildness, “ certainly 
 not — but at present I should object to Denzil’s marrying 
 at all — because I should consider he would do so under 
 mistaken views and ideas.” 
 
 Fanny became still more anxious. 
 
 “ But, papa, suppose this young lady to be all he 
 
 represents her — would it not be wrong ” 
 
 “ He represents ! — this young lady !” repeated Mr. 
 Levison, “ what are you running your head against, 
 child — Denzil has not mentioned any young lady par- 
 ticularly, or given any hint of any predilection for one 
 more than the other of the family; but I was speaking 
 of what may probably happen, in the common course of 
 events.” 
 
 There, brother,” exclaimed Miss Rachel, “ that is 
 you^ who are always accusing me of making matches for 
 people, and foreseeing events which are not likely ever to 
 come to pass ! — I dare say the poor boy has never even 
 dreamt of the match you have been making for him !” 
 
 “ That is no reason it should not take place !” said Mr. 
 Levison ; “ his total unconsciousness that such a scheme 
 is contemplated, is the very reason why he may be more 
 easily taken in. That there is some such idea, I have 
 not the smallest doubt — for nothing else can account for 
 the extraordinary motherliness of the mother towards 
 
THK (ilPSY MOTHER. 
 
 179 
 
 him, which he, like a foolish lad, thinks is the effect of 
 his own merit, and her amiability.*’ 
 
 Fanny was now farther off than ever from the object 
 of her solicitude — namely, the discovery of Denzil’s real 
 situation, and the development of that mystery which he 
 had thrown over it. 
 
 The conversation dropped, for some casual allusion to 
 Charles Levison brought him forward on the tapis, and 
 Mr. Levison could think or talk of nothing else but his 
 nephew, for the remainder of the breakfast time. 
 
 At any other time, Fanny would have smiled at the 
 pains her uncle took to prove that the affair which he 
 had at the time thought so serious, and which had occa- 
 sioned her cousin’s sudden banishment into the country, 
 was a mere bagatelle — the natural consequence of youth 
 and high spirits — a frolic such as he himself had a hun- 
 dred times engaged in; but she was now too seriously 
 depressed, and her mind too anxiously engaged, to bestow 
 even a moment’s thought on the subject; and it was not 
 until her father uttered the following pointed remark, 
 that she felt roused into any interest. 
 
 “ I have always said” he observed, ‘‘ that Charles 
 Levison’s errors, however numerous, would never be 
 such as to influence his future happiness; while Denzil 
 Montgomery’s, if he ever committed any, would be such 
 as would bring serious distress upon him.” 
 
 “ And what, then, has Denzil done, dear papa, to 
 prove that you were right?” she demanded, in faltering 
 accents. 
 
 Mr. Levison looked for a moment embarrassed by the 
 question, but he quickly recovered himself — “ He has 
 not yet done anything my dear, that I know of,” he 
 
180 
 
 THE GIPSY MO'J'HEK. 
 
 replied, “ but I was allucliiig' to the probability of his 
 forming- a clandestine attachment, which can never lead 
 to anything but unhappiness. I never knew one yet,” 
 he added, emphatically, “that did not terminate in the 
 distress of the parties — for the very circumstance of their 
 acting in defiance of the will of their parents, and supe- 
 riors in knowledge, proves the party to be rash, self- 
 willed, and presumptuous — qualities which are not very 
 likely to ensure happiness in the marriage state, even 
 where real love exists; but in more than one half of the 
 cases of clandestine marriage, the parties know nothing 
 about true affection, but are led away by some very 
 different feeling — some ignis-fatuus, which leads them 
 on for a while with high-raised hopes, only to plunge 
 them the deeper into the slough of despair.” 
 
 “And is Denzil, do you think, likely to be so beguiled?” 
 said Fanny, scarcely conscious what she uttered, but 
 anxious to prolong the conversation. 
 
 “ No — oh no — I hope not,” returned her father; “but 
 what I meant to say was, that I am far less certain of his 
 not acting so imprudently, than I am of Charles, who 
 never lets his sensibility get the better of his prudence.” 
 
 “ How little does he suspect,” thought Fanny, “ that 
 this boasted prudential nephew is at this very moment 
 plotting a clandestine alliance, which will at once over- 
 turn all his systems — while Denzil, whom he thus tacitly 
 condemns, would, I know, shrink from committing any 
 action that could seem like ingratitude or disrespect to 
 his benefactor. And would he not condemn me, too, if 
 he knew that I suffered myself to become the confidant 
 of the intention of Charles— nay, in some respects, the 
 abettor of them?” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 181 
 
 The thought that she should incur the censure of him 
 to whom she had ever looked up with fond reliance, as 
 her monitor and her guide, added bitterness to her feel- 
 ings; and she could scarcely restrain the tears that 
 swelled into her eyes, as her father (as if to make amends 
 for his indirect censure of Denzil) began to praise him 
 for every imaginable good quality, save that of pru- 
 dence. 
 
 “ If by prudence you mean selfishness, Denzil has cer- 
 tainly none, or at least as little as falls to the lot of any 
 human being,” she replied, ‘‘ while Charles, on the con- 
 trary, always means to take care of himself, though he 
 sometimes mistakes the means of so doing.” 
 
 Mr. Levison did not look very well pleased at the 
 distinction she had drawn between his two wards, but 
 he did not attempt to controvert her, and in a few mo- 
 ments he retired, according to custom, to his library. 
 
 “ And now, dear Fanny,” said Miss Rachel, fixing her 
 eyes with earnest affection on the pale face of her niece, 
 
 now that your father is gone, pray tell me what has 
 happened, to make you look so unhappy and ill, when 
 you came in? You do look a little better now, but still I 
 can see something unusual has disturbed you — now do, 
 there’s a dear, trust your aunt, who, you know, would 
 do anything in the world for you, for I am quite mise- 
 rable and unhappy to see you thus.” 
 
 Fanny’s heart was quite subdued by the affectionate 
 tone in which her aunt spoke — bursting into tears, she 
 threw herself on her neclv, and, in almost inarticulate 
 terms, exclaimed 
 
 ‘‘ I am, indeed, unhappy — very unhappy — and I have 
 no hope of ever being otherwise.” 
 
182 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 By degrees, Rachel drew from her the whole of her 
 secret source of uneasiness. At the disclosure, poor 
 Miss Rachel was astonished. Confining herself totally 
 to her superintendence of domestic affairs, and satisfied 
 that, as long as the family looked well and did not 
 complain, every thing was going right, she had been 
 totally blind to all that had been passing before her eyes ; 
 and, though she knew that Denzil’s departure had been 
 a source of grief and vexation to her niece, she had no 
 suspicion how far — how deeply their interests and feel- 
 ings were entwined. But still less had she any suspicion 
 of the cause of Denzifs departure, or that any mystery 
 existed respecting him. 
 
 “ It cannot be, my dear child, it is impossible !’^ she 
 exclaimed, when Fanny repeated to her the conjectures 
 she had formed, as to Denzil’s being married. “ How 
 could he have carried on an acquaintance with any one, 
 without my finding it out? Recollect, when Charles was 
 stealing out to meet that bold creature, Patty Stevens, 
 and thought himself so secret and secure, how soon I 
 found him out ? Besides other things that I could men- 
 tion, but which there is no need to speak of now.” 
 
 ‘‘ Certainly not,” said Fanny, who was growing impa- 
 tient at her aunt’s prolixity. 
 
 “ Well, then, my dear, do you not see the utter im- 
 possibility that Denzil could have gone so far as to get 
 married, and neither me nor a soul beside suspecting that 
 he had even a favourite — though we know very well that 
 there were plenty laying out their snares for him, and 
 would have been very glad to have caught him in their 
 nets — I am sure I don’t know what has come to the girls 
 in these days ; for, instead of ” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 183 
 
 But, dear aunt, how else can you account for what he 
 says?” interrupted Fanny. 
 
 ‘‘ I cannot account for it at all, my dear,” replied her 
 aunt, with a solemn look, “ but, Fll tell you what I’ll do, 
 if you like — I will tell your father candidly the whole 
 atfair, and tell him, too, how uneasy and unhappy you 
 are about it — and then, perhaps, he will explain it all.” 
 
 Fanny shook her head despairingly ‘‘That will 
 
 never do, aunt,” she replied, “ my father, you must know, 
 is opposed to my entertaining any idea of ” 
 
 “ Let me alone to manage it,” returned Rachel, “ only 
 try and keep up your spirits, for it breaks my heart to 
 see you in this manner ; but I will not rest, till I learn 
 whether my brother is or is not acquainted with this 
 mystery, if there is any.” 
 
 “ But, dear aunt, if you should drop a hint that I am 
 concerned in ” 
 
 “ I will not, my dear — leave it to me, and I will con- 
 trive to learn all that we want to know, without your 
 father’s suspecting that you have any interest in it.” 
 
 Fanny had but a poor opinion of her aunt’s talents for 
 management, in an affaire de cceiir ; but she saw no other 
 probable method of satisfying her anxiety, and she was, 
 therefore, compelled to resign it into her hands. 
 
 Aunt Rachel was not of a disposition to let any busi- 
 ness sleep on her hands, even had she not been hourly 
 reminded of it by her neice’s pale face and ill-suppressed 
 anxiety. On the very evening, therefore, of the day in 
 which the above conversation took place, she commenced 
 hor attack upon her brother. 
 
 Fanny had retired early, having given the convenient 
 name of “ a cold” to her very evident indisposition; and 
 
184 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Mr. Levisoil, thus deprived of his customary society, was 
 more than usually testy and captious. 
 
 Rachel, however, was not in the mood to be foiled 
 even by the apprehension of exciting his anger, and after 
 two or three ineffectual attempts to persuade him to 
 engage in a game of cards or backgammon, she observed, 
 
 ‘‘ How strangely our family are all altered for the 
 worse, within a few short weeks !” 
 
 Mr. Levison uttered some unintelligible sound, which 
 his sister pretended to take for assent to her observation, 
 and she continued 
 
 “ It seems as if some spell was set upon us all ! — there’s 
 Fanny — never well, never in spirits, as she used to be — 
 Charles, tormenting us so that we are glad to get rid of 
 liim,— and Denzil, who used to be the life and soul of 
 every thing, I suppose we shall never see again, poor 
 fellow !” 
 
 “ Why should you suppose any such nonsense ?” re- 
 turned Mr. Levison. 
 
 « Why?” repeated Rachel, ‘‘ why, because unless the 
 cause of his absence be removed, — which I suppose is 
 not very likely — I do not think he will ever consent to 
 return to England.” 
 
 “ And what, then, does your wisdom suppose has oc- 
 casioned him to leave England ?” demanded Mi% Levison. 
 
 « Why, brother, I do not suppose, because I k7ioiv that 
 it was the impossibility of his marrying Fanny.” 
 
 Did he say so ? ,did he make you his confidant ?” de- 
 manded Mr. Levison, with angry surprise. 
 
 No, certainly not — I knew he was attached to her, 
 but it never struck me, until lately, that he was so deeply 
 in love with her; and when I did at last see it, though 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 185 
 
 I knew it was contrary to your plans and wishes, yet I 
 never had a thought that there was any other impediment 
 in the way.” 
 
 ‘‘ And what other impediment is there then ?” demanded 
 Mr. Levison. 
 
 “ Nay, brother, I never pried so closely into Denzil’s 
 secrets, as to find out what it was — hut I know there is 
 
 a mysterious affair, which has driven him abroad 
 
 This is all of a piece !” murmured Mr. Levison to 
 himself; “ this is just in the same style as his letter; but 
 what it means, or what the foolish lad has taken in his 
 head, I cannot for my life divine !” 
 
 And is it possible, then, brother, that you are not in 
 the secret?” said Rachel, looking incredulously at him. 
 
 “ It is not only possible, but absolutely true,” replied 
 Mr. Levison ; “ nor can I guess what he alludes to, 
 when he talks of the horrible guilt that he has so nar- 
 rowly escaped, and from which he can, even now, scarcely 
 feel himself free. If, indeed, Fanny were actually mar- 
 ried, he might but the boy’s brain is turned ! He 
 
 cannot be in his right senses ! for he writes to me as if 
 I were acquainted with some secret cause for his remorse 
 and regret — now, though I certainly do not think — did 
 not think it proper to encourage his attachment to my 
 daughter, yet I could see no crime in his loving her. 
 On the contrary, it was a natural consequence, which I 
 ought to have foreseen, and have guarded against, and if 
 any one ought to feel remorse, it should be me, because 
 of my foolish blindness and negligence, in not having' 
 earlier seen and prevented the mischief.” 
 
 Miss Rachel’s hopes of penetrating the mystery, and 
 thus at once satisfying her own curiosity, and removing the 
 
 2 B 
 
186 
 
 THE GIPSY mother. . 
 
 suspense and anxiety of her niece, were now completely 
 baffled, while a new cause for anxiety arose from the 
 hint which her brother had thrown out, and which cir- 
 cumstances but too much confirmed, namely, that DenziPs 
 mind was actually deranged. 
 
 This comes of crossing affection,^* she murmured; 
 
 and, after all, for what ? The indulgence of a whim — 
 and for that whim three persons are to be rendered 
 miserable, and one of them driven out of his senses !” 
 
 “ You are enough to drive me out of my senses !” re- 
 turned Mr. Levison; “ who has told you that three were 
 to be miserable? Do you not think that Fanny and Charles 
 have sufficient love for each other, to be happy together?” 
 
 No, brother,” replied Miss Rachel, delighted at this 
 unusual appeal to her judgment and opinion. “ I am con- 
 vinced that Fanny will never love any one but Denzil; 
 and as to Charles, I can assure you that he is not at all 
 disposed to regard his cousin in the light you wish him. 
 
 You may probably, by your influence and authority, 
 
 unite their hands, but you will never unite their hearts; 
 and you have had, I should think, too striking an in- 
 stance, in the case of our poor brother Alfred, of the 
 miseries of enforced marriage, to wish to trv 
 another experiment in the family.” 
 
 Mr. Levison uttered an angry Pshaw !” but he at- 
 tempted neither to combat her observations or defend 
 his own conduct, and after sitting some time in deep 
 thought, he abruptly bade her good night, and retired to 
 his own room. 
 
 Fanny was awake, and anxiously expecting her aunt, 
 when the latter stole softly to her bed-side; but the 
 communication Rachel had to make, was but little satis- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 187 
 
 faction to the expectant girl, who saw, in this disavowal 
 of her father’s participation in the secret, only a con- 
 firmation of her suspicion that Denzil was already mar- 
 ried ; and, after again canvassing the subject, till every 
 argument pro and con had been repeated a dozen times 
 at least, the aunt and niece separated for the night — the 
 former to devise schemes for the discovery of DenziPs 
 secret, if there were any secret, and the latter to weep 
 over the destruction of her hopes. 
 
 — — 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 “ What is that smile, whose rapturous glow 
 Passion’s impetuous breath inspires, 
 
 Whilst Pleasure’s gaudy blossoms blow. 
 
 And the eye beams with guilty fires ? 
 
 ’Tis the volcano’s baleful blaze, 
 
 That pours around a fatal light ; 
 
 Whose victim dies that stops to gaze; 
 
 Whence safety is but found in flight.” 
 
 Denzil Montgomery had, in his first letter to Mr. 
 Levison, introduced the family of the Delaneys to his 
 notice; but in so doing he had omitted some circumstances 
 connected with his own introduction to them, because he 
 feared to awaken the ready suspicions and incur the 
 reproofs of his guardian, for an act which he knew the 
 latter, though he would probably have acted precisely in 
 the same manner, would be inclined to reprehend as the 
 height of folly and imprudence in another person. 
 
 The facts were thesc:^ — Denzil had arrived at the inn 
 at Dover some hours before the time appointed for the 
 
188 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 sailing- of the packet, and feeling no inclination for society, 
 had retired to a private room, to await the signal for 
 going on board. He was not, however, allowed to in- 
 dulge his gloomy meditations uninterruptedly, for the 
 room which had been assigned to him was only divided 
 from another by folding doors, and in that room were 
 assembled a party whose continual laughing, talking, 
 singing, and even dancing, were an effectual bar to all 
 serious thoughts. 
 
 Denzil also felt himself aukwardly situated, in being 
 thus obliged to hear all that passed, as he soon discovered 
 they were all members of the same family. He endea- 
 voured, by various means, to awaken their attention to 
 the fact of his being near them — but it was in vain. 
 He coughed and hemmed, and walked heavily about the 
 room, but they appeared too much engrossed by their 
 own conversation to notice it, and he was compelled to 
 remain an unwilling auditor. 
 
 After numerous desultory observations on the road 
 they had travelled, the place they were then in, and the 
 country they were going to, a sprightly female voice 
 exclaimed 
 
 Oh, mamma, I do believe that beautiful, elegant, 
 melancholy-looking young man, whom we saw alight from 
 the mail, is going in the same packet with us — for I saw 
 his servant and one of the sailors carrying his luggage 
 down to the boat.” 
 
 “ It is very probable, my dear,” replied the mother : 
 ‘‘ but of what consequence is that to us.'^” 
 
 ‘‘ Nothing — only I should so like to know who he 
 is — and why he looks so very melancholy ?” replied the 
 daughter. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEIJ. 
 
 189 
 
 And you would like, too, to try to divert his melan- 
 choly, would you not, Julia ?’’ said another voice, which 
 Denzil concluded, from some previous observations, to be 
 that of a brother of the young* lady. 
 
 “Why, yes, if he answers to his looks, I should have 
 no objection,” replied the lively Julia; “for they are cer- 
 tainly most prepossessing ! He is quite what Norah 
 Butler would call ‘a splendid specimen of an heroic race.’ ” 
 
 “ That was the epithet I believe she applied to the 
 youth, whom she afterwards had the mortification to dis- 
 cover in the heroic act of measuring ribbands and laces 
 in a haberdasher’s shop,” observed another voice. 
 
 “ Oh, yes, papa — I shall never forget how she looked, 
 when, after I had been listening for an hour to her enco- 
 miums on the noble being who had so fascinated her, and 
 on whom she fiattered herself she had made an equal im- 
 pression, we accidentally turned into a shop, and were im- 
 mediately accosted by the hero of her tale, whose eyes 
 sparkled, if not with love, at least with the hope of having 
 secured a good customer. There she stood in the middle 
 of the shop, with her great grey eyes wide open, jiist in 
 this attitude, as if she was transformed to stone, while he, 
 simpering and bowing, ‘hoped she was quite well, et cetera, 
 et cetera.’ Poor Norah ! — her looks said, as plain as looks 
 could say, ‘ Avaunt, fellow ! avaunt !’ but as I did not 
 want a scene, and was afraid, if she stayed much longer, 
 ‘ Her lips would utter what her eyes revealed,’ I hur- 
 ried out of the shop, observing, that we would call again 
 another evening.” 
 
 “ All this is very pretty, and you imitate Norah very 
 well,” observed the mother, when the bursts of laughter, 
 which the young lady had occasioned, subsided ; “ but I 
 
190 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 cannot help observing-, Julia, how little you have profited 
 by the lesson she received ; for you know how violently 
 you were struck with the appearance of the gentle- 
 man ” 
 
 This was too much for Denzil to bear any longer, 
 and accordingly, without waiting to hear the conclusion 
 of the sentence, he made a precipitate retreat from his 
 apartment, and entered the public coffee-room below. 
 
 In a few minutes, two gentlemen, the one a tall, fiery- 
 looking young man, the other a prepossessing elderly man, 
 entered, and sat down in the next box. 
 
 Denzil did not, for some time, suspect that these were 
 the father and son of that family whose conversation he 
 had unwillingly overheard; but he soon recognised their 
 voices, and saw, too, that they were very critically ob- 
 serving him, and smiling at something that had occurred. 
 
 At length the eyes of the elder one encountered those 
 of Denzil, when the former arose, and in the most pleasing 
 • manner observed — 
 
 “ Excuse me, sir — but I wish to apologise for any thing 
 that may have occurred, not exactly pleasing to your feel- 
 ings. You may be sure that we were perfectly unac- 
 quainted with your being so near a neighbour, until you 
 left the room, and girls will chatter, without any meaning.” 
 
 Denzil was for a few moments too much confused to 
 be very coherent in his reply to this address; but Mr 
 Delaney possessed, in the highest degree, that happy tact 
 of not only recommending himself, but inducing the per- 
 sons he conversed with, to be on the best terms possible 
 with themselves, and in less than half an hour Denzil was 
 as much at his ease with him as he would have been after 
 a month’s intercourse with an ordinary acquaintance. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 191 
 
 ‘‘ I would ask you,” observed Mr. Delaney, “ to 
 allow me to introduce my better-half and her girls to 
 you at once, but they are so ashamed of what has passed, 
 especially Julia, who is the wildest little baggage that 
 ever existed ! However, as we are to be fellow-voyagers, 
 opportunities will be found, I trust, which will enable 
 us to get over this little embarrassment.” 
 
 Denzil did not avow what he felt — namely, that he 
 had no wish for any further introduction to the family. 
 Mr. Delaney was, indeed, a very pleasant companion, 
 but there was an air of superciliousness and assumption 
 in his son’s looks and manner, that was far from pleasant, 
 and Denzil had had too good a specimen of Miss Julia 
 Delaney’s talent for satire and ridicule, to be ambitious 
 of being favoured with her notice. 
 
 The expected summons to go on board was at length 
 received, but Mr. Delaney seemed determined that 
 Denzil should not escape him. 
 
 ‘‘You can take care of the women, Maurice,” he obser- 
 ved to his son, “ I shall go on with our young friend.” 
 
 They had not proceeded many steps towards the pier, 
 before Mr. Delaney was suddenly stopped in the middle 
 of some jocund remark by a man who familiarly tapped 
 him on the shoulder. 
 
 Zounds, Johnson, is it you?” exclaimed Mr. Dela- 
 ney, turning pale. 
 
 “ Yes, sir, it is me,” returned the man, with a signi- 
 ficant smile. 
 
 “ And what is the matter now?” demanded Mr. 
 Delaney. 
 
 “ Only a trifle, sir, about forty pounds altogether, 
 including my expenses.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ]I92 
 
 “ And what is to he done now, I should like to know ?” 
 replied the former : ‘‘ All my trunks are on board, and I 
 do not believe I have above ten pounds ready money in 
 iny possession, though I have got letters of credit, when I 
 get to Paris, to any amount.” 
 
 That is no use to me, you know, Mr. Delaney — I 
 can’t go back with that story,” returned the stranger. 
 
 What shall I do ?” observed Mr. Delaney, appeal- 
 ing to Denzii ; ‘‘ it will be hard to be kept from accom- 
 panying my family for such a trifle, and perhaps, sub- 
 jected to the disagreeable necessity and expense of going 
 back all the way to London, for I am sure I know not 
 any one here who would accommodate me with such a 
 sum, though I could repay it the moment I reached 
 Paris.” 
 
 Denzii did not wait to recal to his recollection the 
 sundry cautions which Mr. Levison had given, always to 
 distrust his own travelling countrymen, and to fly from 
 them, as he would from a mad dog, if, under any pre- 
 tence whatever, they attempted to borrow money. He 
 forgot, too, to inquire by what strange chance an honour- 
 able man, as he supposed Mr. Delaney to be, could have 
 given his creditors the trouble of sending a sheriff’s 
 oflicer from London to Dover, to enforce the payment 
 of a demand ; — he only saw Mr. Delaney embarrassed 
 and vexed at the probability of being separated from his 
 family, and in a few moments a fifty-pound note was 
 drawn out of his pocket-book, and consigned, without a 
 single remark, to the hands of his friend. 
 
 Mr. Delaney was too much a man of the world to 
 make many words about such a trifling favour, but when, 
 a short time after, in the cabin of the packet, he intro- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEll. 
 
 19B 
 
 diiced friend Mr. Montgomery to his wife and daugh- 
 ters, he took care to place the obligation Denzil had con- 
 ferred on him, quite in its fullest light. 
 
 “ Why did you not settle with the rascal before you 
 left London, sir?” inquired Mr. Maurice Delaney. 
 
 “ Because, as you very well know, Maurice, it was an 
 unjust demand,” returned the father; nor would I now 
 have paid it, but for the inconvenience and uneasiness I 
 knew such an affair would have occasioned to your 
 mother and sisters.” 
 
 The affair was dropped ; but Denzil did feel a little 
 surprised that, though allusions were frequently made, 
 by all the parties, to the obligation he had conferred on 
 them, Mr. Delaney never thought of repaying the fifty- 
 pound note. 
 
 What would Mr. Levison say,” thought Denzil, “ if 
 I were to tell him all this? — but I will not say a word 
 about it.” 
 
 Accordingly, he did not mention a word of this trans- 
 action ; but in Mr. Levison’s reply he nevertheless received 
 a quite sufficient lecture, on his want of caution in forming 
 a connexion with strangers, to render him uneasy and 
 thoughtful. 
 
 It is too late now to recede,” thought Denzil, after 
 listening to Mr. Delaney’s plans, by which he had settled 
 that, for the next three months at least, he (Denzil) 
 should form a part of their family. Yet, though he felt 
 he was too much entangled to free himself, Denzil was 
 by no means easy; for there were many points in the 
 conduct of his new friends, which he could not be entirely 
 blind to, and which he felt totally unable to approve. 
 
 Mrs. Delaney, a well-educated, mild woman, was as kind 
 
 2 c 
 
194 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 and attentive to him as she was to her own children, and 
 Julia and Helen, two fine-looking romping girls, without 
 a thought beyond the enjoyment of the moment, were as 
 free and easy with him as with their brother, while Mr. 
 Delaney took every thing upon him with regard to tra- 
 velling expenses and cares, as if he had been father to 
 his young friend. So far all was good; — but there were 
 various little indications, which did not escape Denzil’s 
 observant eye, that the whole family were not of so re- 
 spectable a stamp as he had been accustomed to associate 
 with. 
 
 Paltry shujSling, to avoid necessary expenses, and reck- 
 less extravagance wherever show was thought necessary 
 — a disregard of what Denzil considered proper re- 
 serve and decorum — and great assumption of personal 
 dignity, where it seemed to him totally unnecessary, 
 were all so many stumbling-blocks to that perfect confi- 
 dence which Denzil wished to repose in them, and which 
 they certainly seemed to place in him. 
 
 With Mr. Maurice Delaney, Denzil could have no 
 intimate connexion, — ^no fellow feeling; nor, in fact, did 
 he entertain any feeling but the most perfect contempt 
 and dislike. With very shallow intellects, and, consider- 
 ing his situation and his opportunities, very little educa- 
 tion, Mr. Maurice Delaney possessed a very inordinate 
 share of self-conceit, arrogance, and bigotry. To Denzil 
 personally, indeed, he displayed none of these qualities — 
 for he was to him deferential almost to servility; and 
 Denzil felt but the more disgusted with him, from 
 observing the striking contrast which Mr. Maurice 
 displayed in his conduct towards himself, and towards 
 others, with whom he thought he might safely take 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 195 
 
 liberties. To his sisters, his mother, and to the ser- 
 vants, Mr. Maurice Delaney was, in fact, a complete 
 tyrant, and Denzil sometimes had great difficulty to 
 restrain himself from interfering in the frequent quar- 
 rels that arose, when Mr. Delaney was not present to 
 interpose his authority. 
 
 The girls, too, not unfrequently, though they were 
 generally on the right side of the question, betrayed a 
 great deal more spirit, or rather violence, in their 
 altercations, than quite suited Denzil Montgomery's ideas 
 of female delicacy and decorum; and though Julia De- 
 laney could talk very prettily and sentimentally, could 
 weep over her pet dove when dying, and moralize very 
 edifyingly on a flower or a fly, there was often a degree 
 of levity, not to say licentiousness, in her remarks, and a 
 selfishness and parade in her actions, which Denzil could 
 not help contrasting with the mild, unpretending — yet 
 ever correct and ingenuous Fanny Levison. 
 
 “ Fanny Levison !” — Oh, what thoughts, what recol- 
 lections did that name recal to his memory ! — thoughts, 
 which made him recoil with almost loathing from the 
 society he was now among, — which made him shrink from 
 the covert and indirect endeavours of the insinuating Julia, 
 and the bold and open efforts of the less wily, but not 
 less designing Helen Delaney, to attract his admiration. 
 
 The melancholy which Denzil could never subdue, 
 even in the most animated moments of the gay and 
 pleasure-loving group that surrounded him, had not 
 escaped their notice or their animadversion. It had 
 been, as Julia with more candour than prudence had 
 unhesitatingly avowed, the first attraction that had 
 induced her to regard him with feelings of more than 
 
196 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 common friendship — and even Mr. Delaney himself, 
 though more cautious and delicate than the rest of his 
 family, had made divers attempts to penetrate into the 
 cause of what certainly seemed an unusual characteristic 
 in so young a man. 
 
 Denzifs lips, however, were sealed on this subject. 
 There existed not a living being, to whom he could have 
 breathed the secret of his grief; but even if he could have 
 found a mind to which he could have confided the strug- 
 gle which his heart sustained, that mind would not have 
 been found in the family of the Delaney's. 
 
 Mr. Delaney’s direct questions and Mrs. Delaney’s 
 mild, maternal solicitude, exerted more indirectly, drew 
 from him the declaration, which appeared to them per- 
 fectly satisfactory, that no pecuniary losses or embarrass- 
 ments, nor any unfortunate liaison^ occasioned his sorrow 
 and melancholy. Denzil avowed himself rich enough to 
 satisfy all his wants and wishes, and independent of 
 every tie, save those of gratitude and affection to the 
 protectors of his childhood — Mr. Levison and his sister. 
 
 “ It must, then, be disappointed love,” observed Mrs. 
 Delaney to her daughter Julia, when she communicated 
 to her the result of her investigation ; and that, at his 
 age, and with the advantage of absence from the 
 object ” 
 
 ‘‘ And the still greater advantage of seeing, every day, 
 those who, I dare say, need not fear competition with 
 the favoured fair one,” added Mr. Delaney, smiling on 
 his daughters. 
 
 “ Thank you, papa, ‘ I owe you one,’ as Dr. Ollapod 
 says, for that pretty compliment,” replic<l Julia, drawing 
 herself up, and surveying Iierself in the mirror that hung 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 197 
 
 opposite ; but I should like very much to know who 
 or what sort of a being it is, that is honoured with so 
 much regret — I really think she must be quite a non- 
 pareil; for ordinary charms, and, indeed, some that are 
 not very ordinary, seem quite incapable of exciting any 
 thing like admiration.” 
 
 “ I would lay my life,” said Helen, with a laugh, 
 
 ‘‘ that at this very moment he does not even know the 
 difference between Julia’s eyes and mine. Mamma is 
 the only one of the family whom he seems to regard 
 with any thing like admiration, and I have caught him 
 several times looking very tender things at her.” 
 
 “ Yes, but that has only been admiration of her grace- ' 
 ful and gentle manner of performing her maternal 
 duties,” observed Mr. Delaney ; “ and if you were 
 equally cautious and discreet, in not offending his delicate 
 notions of female propriety, it is very evident to me you 
 would attract a much greater share of his notice than you 
 now do.” 
 
 Julia curled her pretty lip with an expression of con- 
 tempt. 
 
 ‘‘ How sickening !” she exclaimed ; “ a boy of 
 eighteen or nineteen, setting himself up for a censor, and 
 expecting every female to act according to the model he 
 has fancied perfection.” 
 
 Well, well, I am not going to argue whether he is 
 right or wrong ; and, indeed, I think myself, it is rather 
 ridiculous and unnatural ; but I only give you a gentle 
 hint of what you should avoid, if you wish to captivate,” 
 replied Mr. Delaney ; I observed him this morning, 
 Julia, when you called your brother an ignorant puppy, 
 for contradicting you in some tale you wei>e telling ; and 
 
198 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 if you could have seen the look of surprise and contempt 
 his countenance wore, you would have seen the propriety 
 of my advice ” 
 
 “ I should have seen that he deserved to be called so, 
 too,” said Julia, contemptuously. 
 
 Denzil entered the room at this moment, and Julia, 
 as if to prove at once her versatility and her obedience to 
 her father’s instructions, assumed a look of penitence and 
 submission, which sat very prettily on her really interest- 
 ing- and handsome countenance. 
 
 “ Julia has been just receiving a lecture from her 
 mother,” whispered Mr. Delaney, drawing Denzil aside. 
 “ She is a good girl, but too quick and lively in her 
 feelings, to be always as prudent as she ought to be.” 
 
 Denzil was quite disposed to agree with this latter 
 assertion : but he was somewhat surprised at the unusual 
 humility with which Julia appeared to have received the 
 rebukes of her mother. 
 
 From this time Julia’s manners became more guarded 
 in the presence of Denzil, who, however, felt too little 
 interested in the affair, to remark for some time the change 
 that had taken place for the better ; and when, at length, 
 his attention was drawn to it by the gentle hints of Mrs. 
 Delaney, he was certainly far from attributing it to the 
 true cause — a desire of appearing amiable in his eyes. 
 
 The acuteness of Ned, Denzil’s servant, however, 
 revealed the secret, and in some measure opened his 
 master’s eyes to the ultimate designs of the Delaney 
 family. 
 
 “ Well, Ned,” observed the latter, a few weeks after 
 his arrival in Paris, “ are you better reconciled to France 
 and French people, than you were? or do the thoughts of 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 19 <) 
 
 Cumberland and Dolly Simpson still make you sigh for 
 home ?” 
 
 ‘‘ I wou’dna care if I were gaen home to-morrow, or 
 to-night, before to-morrow, sir,” replied Ned; “as for 
 Dolly Simpson, I’d be sorry to put her in comparage- 
 ment with ony Tve seen sin I left England.” 
 
 “Yet I thought you seemed very tender with Mrs. 
 Kitty, Mrs. Delaney’s maid, to-day, when I met you,” 
 observed Denzil, smiling. 
 
 “ I woudna’ ha’ Mrs. Kitty, if she’d a hunder pound 
 for her portion,” returned Ned. “ I like neither maid 
 nor mistresses, though I know they all make themselves 
 sure.” 
 
 “ Sure of what?” demanded Denzil. 
 
 “ Why, sure o’ catching the man, as well as the mas- 
 ter,” replied Ned, bluntly. 
 
 “ Catching,” repeated Denzil, blushing, “ I do not 
 believe such a thought ever came into their minds ; and 
 if it had, I am sure they are quite mistaken.” 
 
 “ I hope so,” said Ned, with his usual frankness; “but 
 I know Mrs. Kitty thinks your marriage with Miss 
 Julia as good as settled, and other things she fancies will 
 follow of course.” 
 
 “ Are you sure of what you are saying, Ned?” de- 
 manded Denzil, “ or — but why should I concern myself 
 with what Mrs. Kitty may think, or choose to say — her 
 mistresses, I am sure, would be very angry, if they knew 
 she took so ranch liberty as to ” 
 
 “ Indeed, sir, you are quite mistaken,” said Ned; 
 “ I don’t know, to be sure, that they would like her to 
 say quite so much to me as she does — but I do know 
 that it is regularly talked about as certain that you are to 
 
200 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 be Miss Julia’s liusband — and I know, too, that she’s 
 frightened to death of your seeing her in any of her tan- 
 trums, for fear it should spoil the match. It was only 
 yesterday that she gave Mrs. Kitty a handsome new cap, 
 because she was afraid that it might come to your ears 
 that she had torn the wench’s cap and half her hair olF 
 her head, in one of her passions, and then went smiling 
 and simpering into the drawing-room, as if nothing par- 
 ticular had happened. 
 
 Denzil smiled contemptuously. 
 
 “ A pretty prospect truly, for a husband,” he observed; 
 “ but make your mind easy, Ned — I have never, for one 
 moment, harboured such an idea as choosing a wife from 
 this family — and I shall now, you may be sure, take the 
 first opportunity of letting them know my sentiments.” 
 
 ‘‘ Aye, but they are so artful, your honour, that I am 
 afraid ” 
 
 “ Psha ! they cannot force me into a marriage,” inter- 
 rupted Denzil, ‘‘ and I defy their utmost efforts to indace 
 me to fall in love with either of the daughters, — espe- 
 cially,” he added, smiling, since you have told me how 
 dangerous they are.” 
 
 “ I haven’t told your honour half,” returned Ned, 
 eagerly; “ I only wish you could hear Mrs. Kitty’s sto- 
 ries of the treatment she has put up with from them, at 
 different times.” 
 
 ‘‘ I have heard quite enough to put me on my guard, 
 Ned, even if there was any necessity for it,” replied his 
 master ; ‘‘ but, before many weeks are passed, I shall 
 be far away from the Delaneys altogether.” 
 
 Ned’s countenance brightened — I don’t care how 
 soon,” he observed ; but I can’t help thinking what a 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 20 ] 
 
 tidy disturbance there will be, when they find that all 
 their fine plans are come to nowt! I told Mrs. Kitty as 
 how they had got the wrong pig by the ear, if they tho’t 
 to make a fool of your honour; but though she’ll talk of 
 ’em, and abuse ’em hersel, she won’t let nobody else say 
 a word against ’em ; and so she and I quarrelled, because 
 she would uphold that, with all her faults, Miss Julia 
 Delaney was too good a match for an Englishman and a 
 heretic !” 
 
 * Lightly as Denzil had treated the information his 
 servant had given him, he felt no inconsiderable share of 
 embarrassment, as to the means he should adopt to break 
 oflf a connexion, which he felt was becoming every hour 
 more irksome and more difficult to get rid of. He was 
 conscious, indeed, that, though the efforts of the young 
 ladies to ensnare his affections had failed, Mr. Delaney 
 had acquired a power over him, which, though his reason 
 revolted at, he in vain endeavoured to shake off. 
 
 It was not that he considered this gentleman as wholly 
 exempt from the faults which were so glaringly promi- 
 nent in the other members of the family; on the contrary, 
 Denzil had frequent occasion to mark the most striking- 
 proofs of the same laxity of principle and levity of man- 
 ners, that disgusted him in the younger branches of the 
 family; but Mr. Delaney possessed infinitely more sense, 
 knowledge of the world, and shrewd penetration into 
 character, than either his son or his daughters; and he 
 never said or did any thing revolting to Denzil’s feelings, 
 without contriving, soon after, to make the amende honor- 
 able^ either by candidly avowing his error, and attribu- 
 ting it to the bad and corrupting influence of indiscrimi- 
 nate and ill-chosen society, or by directly doing or saying 
 
202 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 something of a totally opposite nature to that which had 
 offended Denzil’s sense of right, or the delicacy of his 
 principles. 
 
 “ I am often ashamed of myself,” he one day observed, 
 “ when I reflect how often the force of habit, or the 
 selfishness which a constant intercourse with a selfish 
 world has engendered, betrays me into expressions and 
 actions which are totally inconsistent with my real 
 character.” 
 
 The necessity for this apology, however, or something 
 to the same purpose, recurred so often, that even Denzil, 
 with all his partiality, began to feel its effect considerably 
 lessened; and an incident 'which occurred a few days 
 after the conversation with Ned, \vhich we have related, 
 at once removed all Denzifs doubts on the subject, and 
 convinced him that Mr. Delaney, with all his professions 
 of liberality, generosity, and universal philanthropy, 
 was a hard, selfish, unfeeling man. 
 
 Denzil was walking with him in the Boulevards, late in 
 the evening, when a man, whose dress bespoke the extreme 
 of poverty, but whose appearance and mien, as far as 
 could be judged in the darkness of the night, denoted him 
 to have seen better days, approached, and in a low voice, 
 addressing Mr. Delaney by name, requested a few mo- 
 ments’ conversation with him — — 
 
 Delaney started. 
 
 ‘‘ Is it possible !” he exclaimed ; can it be you ? 
 But come this way — what is it you would have with 
 me ?” 
 
 They retired a short distance, while Denzil, throwing 
 himself on one of the seats, awaited his companion’s 
 return. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 203 
 
 By degrees their voices became so much raised beyond 
 the ordinary pitch of conversation, that some sentences 
 reached his ears ; and without any intention of listening, 
 he was compelled to learn that the object of the stranger 
 was to solicit pecuniary assistance, and that Mr. Delaney 
 had declined to afford it. 
 
 ‘‘ It was not so with me, Delaney,” said the stranger. 
 “ In the days of my prosperity, you never solicited of me 
 in vain ! When you married my sister — though you 
 treacherously deceived me, and ensnared her into uniting 
 herself with one who was totally unable to fulfil his pro- 
 mises of supporting her in splendour — what was my con- 
 duct? Did I desert you? No — you well know, my 
 slender means were taxed to the utmost to assist your 
 plans, and yet you can now calmly hear me declare that 
 I am in want even of the common necessaries of life, 
 while you are revelling in 
 
 ‘‘ I tell you once more, you are mistaken,” interrupted 
 Delaney, in an austere tone ; “ I have an expensive 
 family to support — your sister, like yourself, has ever 
 been thoughtless and improvident, and it as much as I 
 can do to keep the vessel floating. Besides, just at this 
 time, I am more than usually short of money — that young 
 man, wliom you saw ” 
 
 He lowered his voice, and Denzil, though now become 
 most anxious to hear how he was connected with Mr. 
 Delaney’s pecuniary embarrassments, lost the remainder 
 of the long sentence which followed. 
 
 “ All this, I dare say, is very true,” returned the 
 stranger ; “ but you will not persuade me that you can- 
 not spare a single guinea — you must know that I am 
 humbled indeed, when I descend so low as to ask such a 
 
THE GIPSY IVJOTJlEli. 
 
 ]>oon — but I have told you how I am circumstanced. 
 Elinor is seriously ill — I cannot leave her — and there- 
 fore ” 
 
 I have not got so much about me,” said Mr. De- 
 laney, interrupting him ; “ however, here is all I have 
 got — and, if you will call to-morrow at the Hotel d^ 
 Angleterre, I will make it up to the sum you require ; 
 but it must really be the last — unless I succeed in the 
 scheme I mentioned, and then perhaps I shall be able to 
 assist you.” 
 
 I shall be beyond the reach of your assistance before 
 that time,” returned the stranger. “ If Elinor recovers, 
 we shall quit Paris in a few days.” 
 
 ‘‘The sooner the better,” said Mr. Delaney, drily; 
 “ there are, unfortunately, a great many here to whom 
 both you and I are known — and, should the unfortunate 
 circumstances of your history be remembered, and again 
 brought forward, they might reach the ears of one whom 
 I should wish to remain in ignorance, at least for the 
 present, that I have the honour to have a near relation, 
 who ” 
 
 “You may spare your sneers, Delaney,” interrupted 
 the stranger, angrily; “vrere 1 inclined to recriminate, 
 I might, perhaps, recal to your recollection ” 
 
 “You had better refrain,” said Mr. Delaney, “from 
 making any observations on my conduct and character, and 
 endeavour to improve your own, by seeking some place 
 where you might remain in secret. Indeed, I cannot think 
 what is the reason you cannot stop in one country, but 
 must be everlastingly wandering about !” continued Mr. 
 Delaney, in an angry tone. “I don’t want to know how you 
 get youi’ living — for, perhaps, it would be only adding to 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 205 
 
 the vexation and mortification which 1 always feel, when 
 1 recal the excellent opportunities you have lost, through 
 your own folly.” 
 
 “ It is false !” replied the stranger, with vehemence. 
 “ I may have been rash — I may have miscalculated my 
 resources — but I have been the victim of fatality — my 
 views have been foiled, my expectations frustrated, by the 
 fate which ” 
 
 “ Psha, that is all stuff!” interrupted Mr. Delaney; 
 if a man prospers, he imputes it to his own merit or 
 sagacity, but if he fails, it is attributed to fate. I could 
 name two or three instances, I have known, in your life 
 — but I do not see any reason why I should concern my- 
 self at all about it — I have told you I can do nothing 
 beyond temporary assistance ; and, by the by, I cannot 
 see what occasion you have to burthen yourself with 
 Elinor — why does she not force her husband to allow her 
 a maintenance ?” 
 
 ‘‘It is very easy to talk,” replied the stranger, “but 
 we will let that matter rest. You acknowledge that you 
 do not wish to interfere at all in my affairs, and I have 
 as little inclination to enter into details, as you have to 
 hear them. If you will lend me the sum I mentioned, 
 I shall repay it, whenever I have power and opportunity. 
 I did think, when I discovered that you were here, 
 which was by accidentally meeting one who formerly 
 
 knew both you and me ” 
 
 “ Who was that ?” exclaimed Mr. Delaney, in a tone 
 
 of alarm, “you have not, I hope ” 
 
 “ Oh, you need not alarm yourself,” interrupted the 
 stranger ; “ the person I allude to, is one who has nei- 
 ther power or inclination to do you any harm, and only” 
 
206 
 
 THJ; frlPSY MOTHER. 
 
 mentioned your being- here to me, under the idea that it 
 might be of service to me.” 
 
 Mr. Delaney made no immediate reply to this, and 
 when he again spoke, it was in too low a tone for Denzil 
 to comprehend what he said. He however distinctly 
 heard the stranger reply, in a resentful tone. 
 
 “ Give it me to-night, then, and that will prevent the 
 necessity of my calling ! As to my sister or her daughters, 
 I know too well what they are, to humble myself by any 
 application to them; though, if they possessed common 
 humanity, they might, without at all compromising their 
 dignity, call and see Elinor, as a poor countrywoman in 
 distress; but I don’t ask it — I know it is too much to 
 expect, of those who seem to ” 
 
 “ Oh, it’s all nonsense — you can’t expect it,” interrupted 
 Mr. Delaney. “ Consider the consequences to them, 
 should it be discovered that they are so nearly connected 
 with one ” 
 
 With one what — what were you going to say, De- 
 laney ?” exclaimed the stranger fiercely, “ but no matter 
 — I have been galled too deep within already: to feel this 
 very keenly ; though you are the last person in the world 
 who ought to say a word respecting either me or my 
 daughter Elinor ; for, let her now be what she may, she 
 would have been incapable, had she been placed in their 
 situation, of acting towards your wife and daughter, as 
 they have acted towards her — but it’s of no use to prolong 
 this conversation, which is only irritating us both un- 
 necessarily — will you give me the money now?” 
 
 “ I will see if I can borrow it of my friend — if he is 
 not gone,” said Delaney, turning round to look for 
 Denzil. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 207 
 
 ‘‘ Good heavens !” he exclaimed, advancing with 
 evident confusion to where the latter was seated, ‘‘ I 
 thought you had walked on — I had not an idea you were 
 so near me.” 
 
 “ Indeed !” returned Genzil, coldly. ‘‘ I imagined 
 you saw me sit down to wait for you.” 
 
 Mr. Delaney was silent for a few moments — he 
 seemed to be meditating how far it was likely that he had 
 betrayed himself to Denzil, and had apparently forgotten 
 his purpose of borrowing the money which he had pro- 
 mised his distressed relative. Denzil, however, reminded 
 him of it by inquiring whether he had concluded his 
 business ; and, if so, if he intended to return home. 
 
 “ Oh, d, propos^^ exclaimed Delaney, starting out of 
 his reverie, “can you lend me a louis d’or? I have left 
 my purse at home, and have only some loose silver, and 
 I cannot do less than give this man — a poor fellow,” he 
 added, in a lower voice, “ whom I have known some- 
 thing of in better days.” 
 
 “ There is the sum you require,” said Denzil, drawing 
 out his purse ; “ but as he is a countryman, and in dis- 
 tress in a foreign land, I fear that sum will be very inade- 
 quate to his necessities. You must allow me to contri- 
 bute also to relieving them — there are five louis d’ors,” 
 he added, speaking loud enough for the stranger to hear, 
 “ which I beg he will accept from me.” 
 
 Mr. Delaney hesitated — but the stranger, at the sound 
 of Denzil’s voice, had approached so near, that the former 
 could not utter the remonstrance against his generosity 
 which he was evidently inclined to make. 
 
 Unwilling to add to the mortification of either of the 
 parties, by remaining to witness their final parting. 
 
208 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Denzil walked quickly away, but he had not proceeded 
 many yards, before he was overtaken by the stranger. 
 
 ‘‘ I am not — I cannot be mistaken ” exclaimed the 
 
 latter ; ‘‘ this is not the first time we have met — and my 
 seeing you here, convinces me you have given due credit 
 to the warning you received ! Let it be a source of satis- 
 faction to you to know, that the boon you so liberally 
 bestowed just now 
 
 Mr. Delaney at this moment approached them, and the 
 stranger suddenly paused — but Denzil had already dis- 
 covered that in the person before him he beheld the man 
 who had, by his unysterious warnings, destroyed his hap- 
 piness, and exiled him from his home. 
 
 At sight of Mr. Delaney, who with breathless speed 
 had followed him, the stranger suddenly darted away 
 through the trees. Denzil would have rushed after him, 
 but Delaney forcibly withheld him. 
 
 What are you about to do, Montgomery ?” he ex- 
 claimed ; “ you would not surely follow that wretched 
 being to his abode of infamy and crime ? The attempt 
 might prove your destruction ! But what has he said to 
 you, or how has he contrived, in so short a period, to 
 awaken an interest 
 
 I have seen him before,” returned Denzil, in violent 
 agitation. “ Why did you prevent my following him ? 
 I would have insisted on his explaining the mystery 
 which torments — disturbs me ” 
 
 “ Mystery ! ha ! ha ! ha !” interrupted Mr. Delaney, 
 forcing a laugh, he has been at his old tricks, then, I 
 see — coining a mysterious story, to impose upon you ! 
 My dear fellow, do not suffer your credulity to be worked 
 upon by his pretences. It is his trade — his profession — 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 209 
 
 to take advantage of the weak and the unwary; and he 
 has a daughter, whom he has educated in the same de- 
 lightful art! Sometimes they wander about together, in 
 the garb and adopting all the habits of gipsies, and con- 
 tenting themselves with the usual gains and perquisites of 
 that respectable tribe ; and, at others, they fly at higher 
 game — contriving to make themselves acquainted with 
 some circumstances connected with the private history of 
 families, and then, pretending to a supernatural know- 
 ledge, not only of the past but the future, they levy con- 
 siderable contributions on those who are weak enough to 
 believe them.” 
 
 ^‘That has not been my case,” returned Denzil; ^‘they 
 have never attempted to take advantage of my credulity 
 — and all that they have told me, has, indeed, proved 
 too correct. Would that you had not prevented my 
 following him, I should then have forced from him a 
 secret which I would give the world to know, and which 
 I am convinced it is in his power ” 
 
 He paused suddenly, for he felt that he was betraying 
 more than he wished to Mr. Delaney, in whom he was 
 now more unwilling than he had been heretofore, to place 
 confidence on the subject that agitated him. 
 
 Probably, it may be in my power to assist you — if I 
 were fully convinced that no imposition has been prac- 
 tised, or intended to be practised upon you,” observed 
 Mr. Delaney. 
 
 Denzil hesitated. 
 
 If you could procure me an interview with that man, 
 you would confer an everlasting obligation on me,” he 
 replied, “ for, be assured, it is no feigned tale that I wish 
 to interrogate him upon. Tliat man, be he who or what 
 
 2 E 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ‘^JO 
 
 he may, has blighted all my hopes of happiness, by dis- 
 closing to me a secret of which I had not the slightest 
 suspicion until I met him; but which has been since too 
 amply confirmed, to leave a doubt of its truth. It is not 
 probable that he could be in possession of one part of 
 the story, without knowing all that I am so anxious to 
 learn; and I should think no sacrifice too great, to be 
 satisfied on one point.” 
 
 Mr. Delaney shook his head. You will not trust 
 me, I see,” he observed, ‘‘ yet I would lay my life ” 
 
 “ I cannot betray the secrets of others,” replied Denzil, 
 hastily; did this only concern myself, I should not 
 hesitate, but ” 
 
 “ Pardon me, my young friend, I should be sorry to 
 intrude myself or even my advice upon you ; and if I 
 do appear to do so now, be assured I am prompted 
 solely by my anxiety for your welfare. I know this man 
 well — know that he is a deep, designing, treacherous vil- 
 lain — though he Avas once a respectable member of 
 society; but that day has long passed, and I should 
 indeed feel much grieved, if, through my means, you 
 should get into his power.” 
 
 ‘‘ You need not fear,” returned Denzil. “ I had been 
 foreAvarned of his character long before I saw you, by 
 one who knew him Avell.” 
 
 ‘‘Indeed!” returned Mr. Delaney, in an embarrassed 
 tone; “then you are probably aware that I have the 
 misfortune to be ” 
 
 “ I certainly am aware of the connexion that exists — 
 ])ut Ave will say nothing of that,” returned Denzil, 
 gravely; “ it is a fortuitous circumstance which you may 
 regret, but cannot remove.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 211 
 
 Mr. Delaney remained silent. He was evidently siit- 
 fering' extreme embarrassment, and was meditating in 
 what way he should address Denzil on the subject. 
 
 Ah !” he at length exclaimed; “my poor Julia! 
 her feelings would be deeply lacerated, did she know the 
 situation of her unhappy brother. I have hitherto con- 
 trived to keep it a profound secret from her, for I am 
 convinced she would scarcely survive the shock ; and I 
 trust, my dear sir, you will be equally cautious and pru- 
 dent, in forbearing to give either her, or her daughters, 
 a hint that you know any thing of this unfortunate 
 relative,” 
 
 I shall certainly be as silent as you can wish, on the 
 subject,” replied Denzil, “ but I hope, in return, you 
 will use every effort to accomplish my wish ; I must and 
 Avill see him by some means, if he is alive, and continues 
 in Paris twenty-four hours longer; and if he quits it, I will 
 spare no pains or expense to trace him ; for, sooner would 
 I expend every farthing I possess in the world, than 
 remain in uncertainty on that point which he can satisfy 
 me upon.” 
 
 “ I will do my best to gratify you,” replied Mr. 
 Delaney, “ but I give you notice, that, such are his 
 erratic habits, it is probable, now he has got a sup- 
 ply of money, he would immediately depart for some 
 other place.” 
 
 Denzil could have contradicted this supposition, by 
 reminding him of the dangerous illness of his daughter, 
 which the stranger had repeatedly mentioned — but he 
 did not think it wise to betray the extent ot his know- 
 ledge, and therefore merely inquired if he (Mr. Delaney) 
 knew by what name the unfortunate man was now known. 
 
212 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ I do not, indeed,” replied Mr. Delaney ; but I 
 think it highly probable that he bears his own — for 
 there are few here, who are likely to recognise it, or 
 even recollect the unhappy circumstances which formerly 
 rendered it notorious.” 
 
 Denzil was dying with curiosity, to know what that 
 name, and those circumstances were — but he saw plainly 
 that his only way to learn any thing of Mr. Delaney 
 was to suffer him to believe that all was already known 
 to him (Denzil). 
 
 It was in vain, however, that Denzil endeavoured, 
 during the remainder of their walk, to draw his com- 
 panion into any conversation on the events to which he 
 had alluded, as having driven his unhappy relative from 
 society, and degraded him into a homeless, houseless 
 vagabond. 
 
 Mrs. Delaney’s quick eye soon discovered that some- 
 thing had occurred to disturb her husband and his friend, 
 but her uneasiness was discovered rather by looks than 
 words, and to those Mr. Delaney replied so significantly, 
 that Denzil could not doubt that, in spite of his parade 
 respecting her sensibility, &c., she would be speedily put 
 in possession of all that had passed. 
 
 With disgust Denzil turned from her assumed gentk- 
 ness and delicacy of manner, as he recalled to his memory 
 the observations he had heard her brother make on her 
 conduct, and that of her daughters towards Mm. What 
 sincerity could there be in that show of maternal mild- 
 ness and attention, which she invariably displayed 
 towards him, a mere stranger, wlien it was clear that she 
 not only herself disregarded the natural ties of blood and 
 affection, but inculcated in her children the same unfeel- 
 ing and unnatural conduct ? 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 213 
 
 Tlie remainder of the evening' was passed in vain at- 
 tempts on all sides to disg-uise the feelings of distrust and 
 dissatisfaction, which were now shared by all. Julia sighed, 
 and looked, and sighed again, and sang her most pathetic 
 songs to her guitar, without seeming to create any feeling 
 but that of evident wearisomeness and languor in Den- 
 zil, who, at length, abruptly arose, and declining to sit 
 down to the supper-table — a meal which the family gene- 
 rally made a scene of conviviality and mirth — retired to 
 his room, to meditate undisturbed upon the strange coin- 
 cidence which had again placed, as it were, within his 
 reach, the means of ascertaining all that he wished to 
 know respecting his own birth, and the fate of his mother, 
 and then again snatched it away. 
 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 “ Tis said she once was beautiful, and still 
 Deep rays of loveliness around her form 
 Beam, as the rainbow that succeeds the storm 
 Brightens a glorious ruin. 
 
 Reserve and womanly pride are in her look. 
 Though tomper’d into meekness : she can brook 
 Unkindness and neglect from those she loves. 
 Because she feels it undeserved ; which proves 
 That firm and conscious rectitude hath power 
 To blunt Fate’s darts in sorrow’s darkest hour.” 
 
 The result of Denzifs midnight musings was a determi- 
 nation, in the first place, not to trust solely to Mr. De- 
 laney to discover the abode of the stranger, but to exert 
 every means that money and personal exertion could af- 
 
2U 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHEH. 
 
 ford ; and, in the second, he resolved to get away from 
 the Delaneys as soon as possible. 
 
 In pursuance of the first, he arose even before his usual 
 early hour, though sleep had been nearly a stranger to 
 his eye-lids during the night. Scarcely knowing what 
 were his intentions, or whither he was going, he softly 
 descended the staircase of the hotel. No one appeared 
 to have risen from their slumbers, and he was just cross- 
 ing the threshold when a man, whom he recognised as 
 an inferior servant of the establishment, approached 
 -him 
 
 I have a letter for you, monsieur,” he observed ; 
 “ how lucky I am, so soon to have the honour of giving 
 it into your hands with secrecy ; for I was charged that 
 no one but monsieur should see it, and I have been faithful 
 to my trust. Ah, monsieur, I should have been in des- 
 pair, if I had missed this grande opportunity.” 
 
 Denzil amply rewarded the messenger, and hastily re- 
 turned to his room, to read the letter, which he had seen, 
 at a single glance, was in a hand unknown to him, and 
 without any signature except the initials — “ E. T.” It 
 was as follows : — 
 
 “ Had I no other motive for wishing to contribute, as 
 far as lies in my power, to your welfare, the act of gene- 
 rosity and humanity which you last night performed, 
 without knowing how near and dear a claim the parties 
 possessed upon your feelings, would have induced me to 
 caution you — to beg — to entreat — would I dare say to 
 command — but your mother has forfeited her right to 
 controul her son, else would she, in the strongest terms, 
 command you — never to unite your fate with one of the 
 Delaney family ! Yes, it is your mother who addresses 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 215 
 
 you, and who enjoins you, as you value your own happi- 
 ness and honour, to give up for ever the girl whom she 
 knows to be totally unworthy of you. Do you know the 
 family with whom you are associated ? Are you aware 
 of their base, their mercenary motives, in seeking an alli- 
 ance with you ? Oh, no, you do not — you cannot know 
 them, as I know them — or you would spurn them with 
 contempt. Delaney is a cold, calculating villain. His 
 
 wife and daughters 1 cannot speak of them, I cannot 
 
 think of them, without detestation ! Their conduct to- 
 wards one who, let her faults be what they may, had 
 every claim that her helpless sex, her youth, her misery 
 could give — but I will not enter upon a theme which 
 makes my blood boil with indignation! Again I entreat, I 
 adjure you not to be deceived by their specious pretences, 
 by their assumed virtues, which are but a mask, that will 
 be thrown off whenever they feel that they have you 
 securely in their power. Heaven, in its mercy, avert that 
 that day should ever arrive ! It would be a finishing 
 stroke to my misery ! Can you doubt that I am misera- 
 ble ? — If it were only the thought that I shall never claim 
 you as my son, that I shall never clasp you in my arms, 
 nor rest this burning, aching head on your shoulder — 
 think you not that this alone would be sufficient to make 
 me wretched? But when I look around me — when I 
 think of all I have suffered, and all that yet probably 
 
 awaits me — when I see my children deprived even of 
 
 My children ! Great God ! dare I claim them as such? — 
 Oh, Denzil ! — Denzil you are called, they told me it was 
 another name ; but my memory fails me, and, after all, 
 he had a right to call you what he pleased. Heaven bless 
 him ! to me he was unjust and cruel — for I did not de- 
 
'J'JIE GIPSY MOI'HER. 
 
 2 Hi 
 
 serve all he accused me of, thoug-h I was in some points 
 guilty — but it is the way of the world ! How often since 
 that, have I been accused of crimes which my whole soul 
 revolted at — but I was condemned, because I was poor 
 and miserable! Farewell, I have wandered far from that 
 to which I have promised to confine my letter, namely, 
 to caution you against the wretches who have insulted 
 
 and but I shall yet live to triumph in their fall ! It 
 
 is the first time, since you were an infant, that 1 have 
 dared to call you my son ; — you have forgotten, but I 
 have not, the bitter tears I then shed over you, and yet, 
 even then, I was proud of you ! I would have died for 
 you ! Oh, your father ! your cruel father ! — I dare not 
 write any more, for my brain is wandering. 
 
 « E. T.” 
 
 ‘‘ I charge you, do not let the Delaneys see this letter, 
 or know that I have written. They are capable of any 
 thing', and my life might be forfeited to their revenge. 
 
 ‘‘ E. IV’ 
 
 Denzil read this letter with the most tumultuous feel- 
 ings of doubt, agony, and joy. Flis mother then was 
 living’ — it was her hand that had traced these incoherent 
 lines, and even now, perhaps, she was within a short 
 distance of him. 
 
 Hastily thrusting the letter into his bosom, he rushed 
 down the stairs in search of the man who had deli- 
 vered it to him. It was some time before he could 
 find him, and then he could learn nothing' but that a 
 strange man, whom he had met with near the door of 
 the hotel, had given him the letter, desiring him to deli- 
 ver it with all possible secrecy and speed, and enforcing 
 
217 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 his request by a present and an assurance that Monsieur 
 Montgomery would further reward him. 
 
 “ Which I have found quite true,” continued the 
 domestic, with a low bow; “ and I should be happy to be 
 favoured with any farther commands of Monsieur.” 
 
 “ I would give you the whole of this,” said Denzil, 
 displaying his purse, if you could trace out the home 
 or residence of that man — or could put me in a way of 
 doing so.” 
 
 “ Morhleu, Monsieur ! I would serve you by day or 
 by night, and I would run through every street till I 
 found him; but I am kept close in the kitchen here all 
 day, and ” 
 
 “ Have you any objection to give up your place, and 
 liire yourself to me? — I will speak to your master, and 
 make every thing right, if you approve it,” exclaimed 
 Denzil. 
 
 “ I am at milord’s disposal, returned the man,” witli a 
 bow down to the ground. 
 
 “ Well, then, I will take all consequences on myself — 
 come with me to my apartment.” 
 
 Rising at every step on his toes, with all the dignity 
 of a man who had met with an unexpected promotion, 
 Jacques followed Denzil to his chamber, and from thence, 
 having received his instructions how to act, sallied out 
 upon his task of inquiring into such places as he thought 
 likely to afford shelter to one of whose pursuits and 
 station Denzil gave him as accurate an idea as he possilily 
 could. 
 
 Too restless, however, to await at home the result of 
 the exertions of his act ive and intelligent ambassador, 
 Denzil, as soon as he had a little recovered from the 
 
218 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHEP. 
 
 violent agitation he had suffered, repaired to the spot 
 where he had, on the previous night, encountered the 
 mysterious stranger. 
 
 The walks were, at this early hour, quite empty, and 
 Denzil had time and opportunity again and again to 
 ponder over the letter which had excited such a variety 
 of feelings in his bosom. 
 
 Would I could at once speak peace to her heart, at 
 least on this subject !” he exclaimed, as he read over the 
 lines, in which she adjured him not to connect his fate 
 with that of Julia Delaney. Would that all the evils 
 of which she complains were as visionary and unfounded 
 as her fears on this head. Julia Delaney !” he exclaimed, 
 in a tone of contempt. 
 
 And what of Julia Delaney, Mr. Montgomery?” 
 exclaimed a voice immediately behind him. 
 
 Denzil looked round, and encountered the fierce look 
 of Mr. Delaney, the younger. 
 
 “ I do not know, sir, that I am bound to give you an 
 account of my secret thoughts,” replied Denzil, returning 
 his stern glance, “ even though you have stolen 
 unawares upon them, and heard me repeat the name of 
 your sister.” 
 
 “ But I think otherwise, Mr. Montgomery,” replied 
 the young man; “ I think that I have a right to know 
 even your thoughts, when my sister is the subject of 
 them — and I demand to know, what are your feelings 
 and intentions towards her ? You have trifled quite 
 long enough with her peace of mind, without coming to 
 any definitive explanation.” 
 
 It is false !” exclaimed Denzil, with vehemence. 
 ‘‘ I have never trifled with her — never have behaved 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 219 
 
 otherwise to her than I have done to her sister and her 
 mother — never considered her in any other light than as 
 a common acquaintance — nor never have led her to 
 believe, by any one action or word of mine, that I had 
 any other views.” 
 
 “ It is well, sir — it is very well !” exclaimed Delaney, 
 boiling with rage, “ you have indeed given me a clear 
 explanation — a very clear one ! I can no longer 
 doubt your designs, sir — ^no longer doubt that you are, 
 what I always suspected you to be, a smooth-tongued 
 hypocrite ! But do not expect you are to get off in this 
 way — my sister’s reputation and her friends’ happiness 
 are at stake, and I will force you to do her and them 
 justice, or I will have your heart’s blood !” 
 
 “ Mr. Delaney,” returned Denzil, with coolness, “ I 
 will tell you at once, candidly and honestly, that I am 
 neither to be bullied nor persuaded into having your sister. 
 Long before I saw her, my fate was fixed — and I should 
 be the villain you would persuade me I am, if I could 
 ever have given, either directly or indirectly, your sister 
 reason to conclude that she was the object of my choice. 
 I acknowledge that, within the last few days, my eyes 
 have been opened to the views of your friends on this 
 point, and I have been meditating on the best means of 
 putting an end, at once, to alt uncertainty on the subject. 
 Within the last few hours, an additional motive has 
 occurred to hasten this determination; and it was my 
 intention now, as soon as I returned to the hotel, to 
 announce my speedy separation from your family. I have 
 now stated all my feelings on the subject — if you feel 
 yourself aggrieved, you are welcome to take what means 
 of reparation you please — but this I solemnly assure you, 
 
THE GIPSY I\JlO'i>HEJ{. 
 
 '20 
 
 that no power on earth will induce me to retract my 
 solemn determination, never to marry your sister !” 
 
 Then you are a villain, and a liar !” exclaimed the 
 savage, in a most ferocious tone. 
 
 A violent blow, the effect of a sudden impulse of pas- 
 sion, which Denzil could not check, laid Delaney pros- 
 trate on the ground, the moment he had uttered these 
 words 
 
 Several people now approached, and Denzil having 
 
 coolly observed, you Avill find me at the Hotel , 
 
 Mr. Delaney, when you want me,” walked on, leaving 
 the latter to the care of the bystanders. 
 
 Denzil’s first reflections on the affray which had taken 
 place, were dictated by unmixed rage and contempt. 
 He now, indeed, saw plainly that a deliberate scheme 
 had been formed, to entrap him into a marriage from 
 which his heart revolted, and he was convinced that the 
 family would not easily relinquish the attempt. , 
 
 For several hours, however, he remained undisturbed, 
 and after the first ebullitions of anger and vexation had 
 subsided, the occurrences of the morning gradually 
 faded from his remembrance, and again he became 
 absorbed in the feelings which his mother’s letter had 
 occasioned ; but, alas, what were those feelings, but 
 those of sorrow and of shame ! The allusion to his father, 
 short and inconclusive as it was, excited the most violent 
 emotions, while her admission, in another part of her 
 letter, that she had in part deserved his treatment to her, 
 led to conclusions the most painful and degrading. 
 
 Would to heaven I could once behold her under my 
 protection! — she would, at least, be saved from tlie 
 misery and degradation slie is now suffering ! Can it ])e 
 
THE aiPSY MOTHER. 
 
 221 
 
 possible that it is her to whom that man alluded by the 
 name of Elinor — her who, he said, was suffering poverty 
 and sickness?” 
 
 The thought was agonising, and he was pacing the 
 room in a paroxysm of grief, when Mr. Delaney, senior, 
 entered unannounced. 
 
 “ What is the meaning of all this, Mr. Montgomery?” 
 he exclaimed. May I still continue to consider you as 
 my friend — the friend towards whom, from the first hour 
 I beheld him, I felt and professed the affection of a 
 father ? What is it that you and Dennis have quarrelled 
 about? Sit down, and coolly explain to me what can 
 have occasioned this unhappy misunderstanding, which 
 has only just come to our knowledge, through the 
 medium of one of the servants of the hotel, who heard it 
 from some of those who witnessed it. Julia and Mrs. 
 Delaney have been in hysterics ever since, and I, having 
 at last found out whither you had withdrawn yourselfj 
 came hither directly, to learn the truth of the report.” 
 
 “ I am very sorry for it, sir,” returned Denzil coolly, 
 
 as your son could have undoubtedly given you a much 
 clearer explanation of a circumstance which originated 
 solely with him. I cannot enter into the subject with 
 you, and therefore you must excuse my referring you 
 entirely to him.” 
 
 Mr. Delaney was evidently disconcerted at the cool 
 and firm tone which Denzil assumed. 
 
 This is strange treatment, Mr. Montgomery, 
 towards one who has not only felt the affection of a 
 father toAvards you, but flattered himself that, at no very 
 distant period, he should have a riffht to claim that title. 
 Julia ” 
 
222 
 
 'I’HE GIPSY MOTHEl? 
 
 “ I have nothing' to say on the subject of Miss Julia 
 Delaney’s feelings, any more than on those of any other of 
 her family. From my first introduction to you, up to 
 the present hour, I have never disguised what, indeed, 
 you in some measure forced me into declaring in the 
 commencement of our acquaintance, namely, that my 
 melancholy and ill-health arose from some unfortunate 
 circumstances which had fixed my fate for ever ; nor can 
 I blame myself for having, in any one instance, counte- 
 nanced the supposition which it seems you, sir, have 
 indulged, that I felt any particular predilection for one of 
 your daughters, more than the other.” 
 
 Then you mean, Mr. Montgomery, expressly to 
 say, that you do not mean to marry Julia?” said Mr. De- 
 laney, with great vehemence. 
 
 I do mean expressly to say so, sir,” replied Denzil, 
 
 coolly; “ and I also mean to say ” 
 
 “ That is quite enough, sir, quite enough, Mr. Denzil 
 Montgomery,” interrupted Mr. Delaney, hastily; ‘‘ I 
 have heard quite sufficient to convince me that I have 
 been grossly deceived in your character — grossly, cruelly 
 deceived'! — 1 have given you credit, Mr. Montgomery, 
 for being a man of honour — a man of the most refined, 
 the most delicate feelings — one who was incapable of 
 trifling with the affections of a young and innocent 
 female, and then leaving her to misery and shame, merely 
 because you have not bound yourself by any specific 
 declaration or promise. You must have long seen and 
 known, Mr. Montgomery, that Julia’s whole heart was 
 given to you — you have tacitly encouraged her enthu- 
 siastic affection, and you have deluded, not only her, but 
 lier mother and myself, into the belief that you had found, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 223 
 
 in her devoted attachment, an antidote to the sorrow and 
 disappointment occasioned by your former unfortunate — ” 
 If you or your daughter, sir, have been so deluded,” 
 interrupted Denzil, laying a strong emphasis on the 
 word ‘‘if,” while his countenance most expressively 
 seconded the doubt which it was intended to convey. 
 
 Mr. Delaney’s passion rose at the insinuation. “ Do 
 you dare, sir, to hint a doubt of my veracity?” he ex- 
 claimed, in a blustering tone. 
 
 “ I dare do more, sir, since you put me to the test,” 
 replied Denzil, with calmness, “ I dare tell you that I 
 consider — that I know — the whole of your pathetic state- 
 ment to be false — I rep»^at it, false ! and part only of a 
 plan, by which you have attempted to secure to your 
 daughter, what you were pleased to consider an eligible 
 marriage, and which plan the violence of your son, has, 
 perhaps prematurely, brought to a crisis. This candid 
 avowal on my part will, I hope,” he continued, in a con- 
 temptuous tone, “ I trust, Mr. Delaney, prevent your 
 ha\dng any further trouble on the subject — since it will 
 convince you that I am neither to be bullied nor tricked 
 into a compliance with your wishes.” 
 
 Mr. Delaney’s face became livid with passion — his lips 
 quivered, and for some moments he seemed unable to 
 command his voice to utter a reply. 
 
 At length, however, the torrent of his rage broke 
 forth, and every epithet which malice and disappointment 
 could suggest, was bestowed upon Denzil, who bore it all 
 with the most philosophic indifference and silence, until, 
 on Mr. Delaney’s reiterating his determination to have 
 satisfaction for the injury which the honour of his family 
 had received, he observed 
 
224 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ I am quite ready to meet your demand for satisfac- 
 tion, in any way you may think proper, Mr. Delaney ; and 
 tlierefore I beg* you will spare yourself all unnecessary 
 denunciations.” 
 
 Mr. Delaney flung- out of the room, muttering some 
 indistinct expressions of vengeance, and Denzil soon lost 
 all recollection of him or his concerns, in the intense and 
 absorbing interest he felt in the discovery of his mother’s 
 existence. 
 
 From the dreams which this subject gave birth to in 
 his mind, he was, however, aroused by the entrance of 
 his servant Ned, who, with his eyes swelled and black, 
 and the front of his clothes covered with blood, came 
 into the room in so violent a passion, that, for some time, 
 he was totally unintelligible, as to what had occasioned 
 his appearance or his rage. 
 
 At length, however, it was explained — Ned had, ac- 
 ^ cording to his master’s orders, been to the Hotel d’ Angle- 
 terre to remove the clothes, See. of the latter. To Ned’s 
 utter surprise and indignation, however, the master of the 
 house, instigated, as he acknowledged, by the Delaneys, 
 had insisted that not an article should be removed, until 
 his bill was paid; and Ned, knowing that his master had 
 already paid pretty handsomely for his accommodations, 
 had in consequence indulged in some strictures which 
 had the effect of rousing the ire of the younger Mr. 
 Delaney, who had, it appeared, with the aid of his two 
 servants, perpetrated the violence of which the poor lad’s 
 appearance was a sufticient testimony. 
 
 “ Oi woudna’ ha’ moinded,” exclaimed Ned, ‘Tf they 
 had ha’ fought fair — one down and t’other come on — but I 
 had all three a-top o’ me at once --and if the Frenchmen 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 22o 
 
 had not interfered, and threatened to send for the John- 
 darms, I verily think they had ha’ taken the loife o’ mo.” 
 
 Enraged beyond all measure at this treatment of his 
 servant, Denzil, forgetful of all his resolutions of pru- 
 dence and calmness in his conduct towards the Delaneys, 
 had taken his hat, intending to go to the hotel, and de- 
 mand personally reparation for this insult, when he was 
 prevented by two notes being delivered to him, which 
 the servant of the hotel said, had been brought at the same 
 moment, by two different persons. 
 
 The first which he opened was from Mr. Dennis De- 
 laney, requesting, in very laconic terms, that, if Mr. 
 Denzil Montgomery valued his character as a gentleman 
 and a man of honour, he would not quit Paris until the 
 said Mr. Dennis Delaney should have had some further 
 communication with him ; and concluding by saying, that 
 in the course of the day, probably, or at furthest the 
 next day, a friend of Mr. Delaney’s would wait upon 
 Mr. Montgomery, to demand satisfaction for the insult 
 Mr. Dennis Delaney had received, and to fix the mode, 
 time, place of meeting, &:c. &c., according to the usual 
 forms in such cases. 
 
 Denzil threw this note aside with an expression of con- 
 tempt, and opened the other, the hand-writing of which 
 he did not at first recognise ; but the signature informed 
 him that it was from Miss Julia Delaney, and in a very 
 different strain from the laconic epistle of her brother — 
 It was as follows : — 
 
 “ My dear, dearest Denzil, 
 
 What can possibly have occasioned the difference 
 which I have but within these few minutes learned has 
 
 2 G 
 
THE (ilJ’SY MOTHEK. 
 
 arisen between you and my hot-headed, impetuous bro- 
 ther? — who, I am sure, whatever he may have done or 
 said to offend you, in reality loves you as his life ; and I 
 am sure would, in his heart, give the world to be recon- 
 ciled to you, though his proud spirit will not own it. Oh, 
 dear Denzil ! what 1 have suffered since I found you had 
 left us, and left us, too, in anger ! Mamma is in despair, 
 and seriously ill. You know how attached she has ever 
 shewn herself to you, and how tender she has been to- 
 wards you — her own children, I am sure, are not more 
 dear to her, nor would she be more seriously affected had 
 she lost Maurice, or even her own Julia, who, you know, 
 is a bit of a pet, and has therefore all the faults of a spoiled 
 child — though you have corrected her of a great many, 
 
 and would effect an entire reform ; but if you are oh 
 
 no, dear Denzil, you never can be so cruel, as to intend 
 entirely to desert me, because my brother has not behaved 
 properly; for I know very well that it is he only who is 
 in fault, though neither he nor papa will own what the 
 quarrel has been about. Do, dear Denzil, for my sake, 
 forgive him, and shake hands with him, and make us all 
 happy by coming home again. You must come, or I 
 shall certainly come and fetch you ; for I have succeeded 
 in learning where you are, as you will know by this note, 
 which I am writing by stealth, while mamma, who is ex- 
 hausted by weeping, is asleep. I know she would be 
 very angry if she were to discover that I have written — 
 for, much as she laments your departure, she told me that 
 it would be highly improper, and lower me in your eyes, 
 if I should write to you; but I have no notion of such 
 ceremonies — I am sure, I have not a thought in the world 
 that I would conceal from you, and why should it ])e 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 221 
 
 improper that I slioukl tell you that I am wretched and 
 unhappy until I see you again? Pray do not delay 
 your return, dear Denzil, or I shall begin to think you 
 are, indeed, what nothing but your own act and deed 
 could persuade me of, unkind and cruel to 
 
 Yours, ever and ever, 
 
 “ Julia Delaney.” 
 
 Denzil read this with equal contempt and indiflPerence 
 as he had done the former epistle ; to Mr. Delaney’s, 
 indeed, he considered it necessary to reply, and therefore 
 hastily wrote 
 
 “ Mr. Montgomery will be ready to give Mr. 
 Delaney the meeting, whenever he requires it; but he 
 deprecates all delay, as circumstances may render it 
 imperative that Mr. M. should quit Paris in a few days.” 
 
 ‘‘ A pretty affair I have involved myself in !” thought 
 Denzil, as he paced up and down the room, after the 
 departure of his messenger with this note. ‘‘ I have 
 suffered myself to be duped out of nearly all my ready 
 cash, by a sharper — and now I must either be bullied 
 into marrying his daughter^ or run the risk either of 
 committing murder, or of being murdered. And this is 
 my boasted prudence ? These are the results of the 
 excellent lessons I have received !” He heaved a deep 
 sigh, as he thought what the feelings of Mr. Levison and 
 Fanny ^vould be, should he fall a victim in the approach- 
 ing contest ; for such, he doubted not, must take place, 
 now that his reply to Mr, Dennis Delaney, and his 
 silence to his sister, would convince them that he was 
 
22H 
 
 TTIE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 determined not to fulfil their expectations. But there was 
 another thought, even more painful than those connected 
 with the friends of his youth, which now thrilled through 
 
 his heart His mother ! Was he to discover her, only, 
 
 perhaps, to quit her for ever ? — to leave her even more 
 desolate and forlorn than before; for, while she knew 
 he lived, even though estranged from him, she must have 
 felt that she had some dependance, some tie, which she 
 could at any time claim. 
 
 He caught the eye of his servant (who had, at his 
 desire, remained in the room, until the arrival of the 
 surgeon, whom he had sent for to examine the wounds 
 and bruises he had received) fixed intently on him, 
 and, assuming a calmness he did not feel, he inquired of 
 him whether Jacques, the Frenchman he had engaged, 
 had returned. 
 
 Ned had forgotten to mention that he had met Jacques, 
 who had desired him to tell his master that he believed 
 he had discovered a clue to the person of whom he was 
 in search ; and that he would return, the moment he had 
 ascertained the correctness of his information. 
 
 Denzil’s anxiety increased tenfold, at this intelligence. 
 ‘‘ Could I but see her,” he reflected, before this affair 
 takes place, I might tlien perhaps be enabled to provide 
 that she should not suffer the miseries of poverty ; but 
 now, uncertain as I am of her very name, I know not 
 how to act !” 
 
 A thousand distressing and agitating thoughts con- 
 tributed to depress his spirits, and he passed a long and 
 miserable day of anxiety and doubt, for Jacques returned 
 not until night, and then the information he brought was 
 so inconclusive, that it left the affair almost as much in 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 229 
 
 suspense as before; and, in addition, Jacques had contrived 
 to get so intoxicated, that Denzil scarcely knew whether 
 he could depend even on the statements he made. 
 
 “ He had,” he said, ‘‘ after the most indefatigable and 
 diligent research, discovered that a man, who was known 
 by the name of Mathieu, and who exactly answered to 
 the description of the person who had delivered to him 
 the letter, had been living in a wretched lodging, in one 
 of the Fauxbourgs, with a female, whom he called his 
 daughter. That her ostensible occupation was making 
 little wicker baskets, but that she was also knoAvn to be 
 a fortune-teller, and had recently removed from this 
 apartment, in consequence of the threatened interference 
 of the police with her profession.” 
 
 Little doubt, however, was entertained by the people 
 of the house where she had resided, that they should be 
 able to trace them to the place where they now were, in 
 a very short time ; and Jacques added, that the promise 
 of a reward which he had made them, would, no doubt, 
 induce them very quickly to accomplish the object. 
 
 Denzil’s heart thrilled with agony. “ Could it be pos- 
 sible that this degraded being was his mother ?” the 
 thought was dreadful, and yet there appeared but too 
 much reason to fear that this was the case. 
 
 “ She is called his daughter,” he repeated aloud, “ and 
 if she is not ” 
 
 Most likely. Monsieur, she is not,” observed the 
 officious Jacques, who imagined he spoke to him, “ such 
 creatures as these ” 
 
 He stopped, in evident alarm at the fierce look 
 with which Denzil regarded him, as he uttered these 
 words. 
 
230 
 
 THE CrlPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ‘‘ Pardonnez moi^ Monsieur — I did not know — that is, 
 I did not think ” 
 
 “ You are not required to think at all about the afFair 
 — confine yourself to performing the service I require of 
 you, and that will be sufficient,” returned Denzil; ‘‘ you 
 may go, and, in the morning, I trust you will be success- 
 ful in your attempt to find the person whom I wish to 
 see.” 
 
 It was with difficulty Denzil had constrained himself 
 to assume this calmness, but when the man quitted the 
 room, he gave way to the agitation which swelled in his 
 bosom almost to suffocation. But he was not long per- 
 mitted to indulge these sensations, for Ned entered to 
 announce Mr. Drennan — a person whom lie had once 
 seen at Mr. Delaney^s dinner-table, and who, he rightly 
 conjectured, was now come from him, 
 
 Mr. Drennan entered, with the easy and assured air of 
 a man, who considered the business he had come upon, in 
 the light of an every-day occurrence. 
 
 “ You are after guessing, I suppose, that I come from 
 my friends, the Delaneys ?” he observed. 
 
 “ I conclude, sir, you can have no other business with 
 me,” returned Denzil ; ‘‘ and J am quite ready to listen 
 to any thing you have to communicate.” 
 
 “ Faith, then, and it^s little I have to tell you that 3mu 
 do not know already,” he replied. “ My friend, Dennis 
 Delaney, informs me that you have injured him, and 
 unless you are willing to make some other reparation, 
 he demands such satisfaction as is usual between 
 gentleman and gentleman, under such circumstances; 
 ])ut, as I’m a peaceable man myself, and don’t like driv- 
 ing things to an extremity, if it can be avoided and 
 
THE (HPSY MOTHER. 
 
 2‘)i 
 
 besides, as I know that there’s a certain beautiful creature, 
 who, if you should be shot, as it’s ten chances to one yoii 
 are, for Dennis is a pretty sure hand, and has already 
 brought down his man, (which is the true reason why 
 the family are here at the present speaking) — as I say, 
 
 there’s a lovely girl, who ” 
 
 Excuse me, sir,” interrupted Denzil, I would 
 thank you to confine yourself to the business which 
 
 brought you here, and that, I suppose, is to arrange ” 
 
 You are quite right,” resumed Mr. Drennan, “ I 
 came to make the arrangements for a meeting between 
 you and my friend Dennis, if the business cannot be 
 otherwise accommodated; but I hope you will listen to 
 reason, and not go to peril your life for a trifling' mis- 
 understanding', which might easily be settled. They tell 
 me you have been paying your addresses to my little 
 friend Julia ” 
 
 Whoever has told you so, has asserted a wilful 
 falsehood, sir!” interrupted Denzil. have never 
 
 addressed — never considered, — and never treated Julia 
 Delaney with the slightest preference — and that the whole 
 flimily are aware of, as well as the young lady herself.” 
 
 ‘‘What, Mr. Montgomery! that is your name, I 
 believe ?” 
 
 Denzil bowed his head in token of assent, while a 
 slight blush crossed his cheek, as he fancied there was 
 a peculiar emphasis laid upon the interrogation. 
 
 “ Well, then, Mr. Montgomery,” resumed the speaker, 
 “ would you persuade me that .Julia Delaney would 
 consider you as her affianced husband, and all the family 
 look upon you and speak of you in the same light, with- 
 out your having given them autlmrity to do so ?” 
 
232 
 
 THE HIPSY MOTHEll. 
 
 1 have told you, sir, that it is so — you are at liberty 
 to believe as you please,’’ replied Denzil; ‘Mjut, as I 
 before said, I wish not to enter on any subject but tlmt 
 which has brought you hither.” 
 
 Mr. Drennan’s confidence seemed considerably damped 
 by the cool manner in which this was uttered 
 
 “ Well, Mr. Montgomery,” he observed, “it must of 
 course be as you please; and therefore I have nothing to 
 
 do but to acquaint you but have you no friend, with 
 
 whom I can make the necessary arrangements ?” 
 
 “ I have neither friends nor acquaintances here, sir,” 
 replied Denzil, “ but, I presume, you will see that all 
 proper ” 
 
 “ Oh, certainly, certainly, Mr. Montgomery — I will 
 take care that justice is done to both parties; nevertheless, 
 it is very unusual, in affairs of this kind, for gentlemen to 
 go to the ground without being mutually attended by a 
 friend. 1 do not know what is to be done — perhaps you 
 will allow me time to consult my friend Delaney on the 
 subject.” 
 
 “ Certainly, sir, I am in no hurry,” replied Denzil, in 
 an indifferent tone. “ I am the aggressor — according to 
 your statement — and not the aggrieved party; and there- 
 fore am willing to wait.” 
 
 Mr. Drennan looked earnestly at him for some mo- 
 ments — “ Really, I am very sorry, Mr. Montgomery, 
 that this affair cannot be accommodated without a hostile 
 meeting.” 
 
 “ It is not my fault, sir, if it cannot,” replied Denzil ; 
 “ I have no particular passion for fighting — but I never 
 will submit to own myself in tlie wrong, when I know 
 I am not; nor will I permit false assertions to be made 
 respecting my conduct, without vindicating myself.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 33S 
 
 Mr. Drennan seemed to be communing with himself 
 for some minutes — I shall do myself the pleasure of 
 waiting- upon you, in an hour or two, Mr. Montgomery,” 
 he at length observed, and if this affair cannot be other- 
 wise accommodated, you will, perhaps, not object to my 
 introducing a person to you, who will, I am sure, act in 
 every respect as your friend, and who is perfectly ac- 
 quainted with all the etiquette usual on such occasions.” 
 
 ‘‘ I shall feel greatly indebted to you, sir,” returned 
 Denzil ; ‘‘ and, without wishing to shake your confidence 
 in your friends, I beg to assure you that I have neither 
 done or will do any thing to disgrace your recommen- 
 dation.” 
 
 “ I believe you, from the bottom of my soul !” returned 
 Mr. Drennan, shaking him heartily by the hand ; “ and, 
 if I were not engaged already, I would myself offer to be 
 your friend. I assure you, sir, that I never was more 
 interested for any young man in my life, than I am for 
 you ; and it would give me the greatest pleasure could I, 
 consistently with my friend Mr. Delaney^s honour, accom- 
 modate this affair. 
 
 Mr. Delaney’s hormir, I believe, sir,” said Denzil, 
 with strong emphasis, “has very little to do with the 
 affair ; but Mr. Delaney knows best his own feelings, and 
 if he likes to place them to the account of wounded 
 honour, e’en let it be so.” 
 
 Mr. Drennan remained silent, but his looks betrayed 
 considerable uneasiness, and he seemed very unwilling to 
 depart, without making another effort to bring the affair 
 to an amicable termination. 
 
 “You came from England, I understand, with my friend 
 Delaney’s family.” 
 
 2h 
 
234 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “We were accidentally passengers by the same vessel,” 
 replied Montgomery. 
 
 “ But you knew them before sure, or I am grossly 
 misinformed; and, ’faith. I’d be sorry to think they 
 would impose upon me,” returned Mr. Drennan. 
 
 “ I know not what date they may have been pleased to 
 affix to our acquaintance,” said Denzil, “my memory 
 carries me no further back than to a few hours previous 
 to our sailing in the packet for Calais.” 
 
 “ A few hours only !” repeated Mr. Drennan. “ By 
 the powers, then, Mr. Montgomery, that would look 
 like a confirmation of the tale of your having fallen vio- 
 lently in love with Miss Delaney at first sight — if it is 
 true that you advanced a considerable sum of money to 
 save Mr. Delaney from an arrest.” 
 
 “ I am glad Mr. Delaney does recollect that part of tlie 
 affair,” observed Montgomery, significantly. 
 
 “ Oh, ’faith, I do not say that I heard it from Delaney,” 
 returned Mr. Drennan, laughing, “it appears, how- 
 ever, there was some truth in the story.” 
 
 “ Too much, as to my folly,” replied Denzil, drily. 
 
 “ And will you pretend to say now, Mr. Montgomery, 
 that you had not an eye to the daughter, when 3mu were 
 so liberal to the father ?” returned Mr. Drennan. 
 
 “ I do not pretend anything about it, sir,” said Mont- 
 gomery, rather angrily, “but the fact is, at this mo- 
 ment I do not remember that I had even seen Mr. 
 Delaney’s family, at the time that I was foolish enough — 
 but I know not why I should enter into these explana- 
 tions, Mr. Drennan — your business with me, I believe, 
 was merely to demand ” 
 
 “ Whew !” whistled Mr. Drennan, with peculiar sig- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 285 
 
 nificance, what a hot-headed young man you are ! And 
 I had been taught to believe you just clean the contrary, 
 too — but that’s nothing ; only I would just ask you, in 
 plain truth and candour, whether you ought to be angry 
 with a man for wanting to prove to his own satisfaction 
 that you a,re less blameable than you have been repre- 
 sented to him. If you think I have had any other reason 
 for asking you so many questions, you may take my 
 word and honour, as a gentleman, that you are mis- 
 taken.” 
 
 ‘‘ Excuse me, sir,” said Montgomery, bowing, “ I 
 feel ashamed of my petulance — but, really, the whole 
 subject is so revolting' to me, and I am so sick of hearing 
 any thing respecting my assumed pretensions to Miss 
 Delaney, towards whom, I assert, most unequivocally, 
 and, to borrow your expression, on the word and 
 honour of a gentleman, I never shewed any attachment, 
 distinct from that which every female has a right to 
 claim and expect, and which have been equally bestowed 
 on her mother and sister. Circumstances,” he added, 
 
 or, probably, I should rather say, design, has placed 
 Julia oftener in the way of receiving those attentions, 
 than either of the other ladies ; but, I do assure you, it 
 was never my wish that it should be so, though it appears 
 I am now to be made responsible for it.” 
 
 “Well, my dear sir,” returned Mr. Drennan, “I 
 feel that I have taken a liberty with you, in eliciting this 
 confession ; but I hope it is not an unpardonable one, 
 and, to make some amends, I promise you, I shall do all 
 in my power to make Mr. Dennis Delaney listen to 
 reason.^ As to Julia, I am afraid that it would be more 
 than I dare do, to offer to persuade her that you are not. 
 
9Mi 
 
 J'lTE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 uor ever were in love with her — and, indeed, to tell you 
 a bit of my mind, I suspect there are very few young 
 men who would have been so favoured as you have been, 
 without feeling a little more grateful to the pretty Julia, 
 than it appears you do — but there^s no accounting for 
 tastes !” 
 
 Denzil only smiled in reply to this elegant exordium, 
 and Mr. Drennan having seemingly exhausted his stock 
 of eloquence, departed, renewing his promise to bring a 
 gentleman to act as Mr. Montgomery’s friend. 
 
 The rapidity with which this had passed, and the 
 nonchalance and matter-of-course manner in which Mr. 
 Dennis Delaney’s messenger had apparently considered 
 the affair, had hitherto prevented Montgomery’s reflect- 
 ing, with the seriousness it deserved, on the affair in 
 which he was involved. The last expression of Mr. 
 Drennan, however, dwelt on his ear, and as he reseated 
 himself at his writing-table, he reiterated the word 
 
 And such is the fashionable acceptation of the word,” 
 he exclaimed; the man who is willing to take the 
 trouble to stand by, in order to see that I murder, or am 
 murdered, according to due form and rule, is called my 
 friend ! Alas, how different has been my estimation of 
 that title — yet I have now no friends ! — or if they whom 
 once I thought such, even now admit the claim — how 
 soon will they have cause to lament it ! How soon 
 will they feel that I have forfeited all claims to the 
 distinction !” 
 
 Lost 'in these and similar reflections, he had sat for a 
 considerable time, when he was roused by the entrance 
 of a servant who announced that a female, who refused 
 
THE (HPSY MOTIIEE’. 
 
 ::!87 
 
 to give any name, requested to see Mr. Montgomery 
 alone, for a few minutes. 
 
 Denzil’s first thought was, that it must be the cause of 
 all his embarrassment — Julia Delaney; and, desirous of 
 avoiding the scene which he knew would be acted, if it 
 should be that sentimental fair-one, he hesitated what 
 answer he should give the man, who requested to know 
 whether he should admit her. 
 
 “ What sort of a female is it?’’ he demanded, after a 
 
 moment’s pause, “ is it is she young, handsome ? Do 
 
 you know Miss Delaney? — It is not her, is it?” 
 
 I have not Vhonneur^ milor^ to know la demoiselle 
 you speak of, milor^'’ returned the man, who was one of 
 the servants of the house, and had been there but a few 
 days ; ‘‘but cette dame is not ver young, and, for handsome, 
 peut~Ure she may be tresjolie^ but her face is covered wit 
 a veil so thick ” 
 
 “ It is my mother! None else could seek concealment!” 
 thought Denzil. “Fly! — go, instantly admit her!” he 
 exclaimed aloud. 
 
 The man looked astonished — but hastened instantly 
 to obey his orders, and Denzil gathered up the papers 
 which were scattered on the table, amongst which v/ere 
 Mr. and Miss Delaney’s notes, and locked them in his 
 desk. 
 
 He had scarcely completed this before the servant 
 ushered in the lady; but the first glimpse of her figure 
 brought with it extreme disappointment — ^fbr, instead of 
 the tall, slender, and elegant form he expected to see, he 
 beheld a short and matronly person, whom the large 
 cloak and thick veil prevented him from at first discover- 
 ing Avas no other than Mrs. Delaney. 
 
23S 
 
 'I'HE GIPSY MO'J’JIEP. 
 
 Denzil started, as she threw off the incumbrances 
 which had concealed her from him, and fixed her soft 
 and still handsome eyes upon him. 
 
 ‘‘ You do not welcome me, Mr. Montgomery,” she 
 observed, in her usual gentle tone. ‘‘ I had flattered 
 myself that, whatever might be your feelings towards 
 some part of my family, your resentment would not ex- 
 tend to me — but I see that I deceived myself, and I am 
 now sorry that I have so far departed from propriety, as 
 to intrude my unwelcome visit upon you.” 
 
 She burst into tears, and Denzil, vexed, confused, and 
 embarrassed to such an extent as scarcely to be conscious 
 
 ^vhat he said, exclaimed 
 
 Forgive me, dear madam, I am indeed astonished to 
 see you here, but I have no resentment towards you or 
 your family. From yourself, indeed, I have never re- 
 ceived any thing but uniform kindness, and I have ever 
 attempted to prove my gratitude ” 
 
 ‘‘ Gratitude, Denzil,” she repeated, with emphasis. 
 
 Alas ! it is from me that gratitude is due ! How often 
 has your kindness soothed, your liberality relieved me, 
 in sorrow and suffering! Oh, Mr. Montgomery, think 
 not that my heart can ever partake in the feelings that 
 have been displayed towards you, by those whom it is 
 my misfortune to be connected with! No, be assured that 
 — however the ties by which I am bound compel me to 
 dissemble — I admire and applaud your conduct ! But I 
 am a mother, Denzil, and though justice obliges me to 
 acknowledge that I condemn the conduct of my children, 
 
 I still feel for them with all a mother’s fondness.” 
 
 Fenzil remained silent — he knew not, indeed, what to 
 sav — for he could not tell what conclusion to draw from 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 239 
 
 this confession and admission of faults, which he well 
 knew she had not the power, even if she had the will, to 
 amend. 
 
 Mrs. Delaney, however, did not leave him long in igno- 
 rance of her motives. 
 
 “Julia, Mr. Montgomery,” she again resumed, “dare I 
 mention her name to you ? — poor, unhappy girl, she is in 
 despair at the misery she has brought on you, on all of 
 us, by her ungovernable passion. Alas, she deceived 
 herself, as well as her father and brother, in representing 
 that you had avowed your affection for her ! She believed 
 what she wished ” 
 
 “ Pardon me, madam,” interrupted Denzil, “ if I ask 
 you to what all this tends ? Miss Delaney needs not this 
 vindication to me — if she can satisfy you that she has de- 
 ceived herself, as well as her friends, it is quite sufficient, 
 but, really, this is a subject I know not how to discuss — 
 It is so repulsive to me, so embarrassing, so utterly irre- 
 concilable with the delicacy which I would wisli to preserve 
 towards ” he hesitated, and Mrs. Delaney resumed, 
 
 “You ask me what is the object of my coming here, 
 Mr. Montgomery,” she observed. “ I confess I know not 
 how to answer you — I came here from the impulse of 
 my heart, which would not believe that you could 
 seriously resolve to sacrifice the peace of a whole family, 
 and consign to despair a girl whose only fault is being 
 too susceptible of your merit.” 
 
 “ I cannot listen to this, madam,” interrupted Mont- 
 gomery, impatiently, “ and to put an end at once to any 
 mistaken ideas or expectations, I will candidly tell you 
 that it is utterly impossible I can feel towards your 
 daughter, otherwise than I have always professed myself. 
 
240 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Pardon me if am compelled to appear rude and abrupt — 
 you are aware that it is not my seeking- — but I am most 
 anxious to put an end to all discussion on this most pain- 
 ful subject.^^ 
 
 Painful, indeed,” returned Mrs. Delaney, weeping- 
 still more bitterly. “ Oh, Mr. Montgomery, if you knew 
 what I suffer — but why should I expect pity from you? 
 and yet I feel for you as well as for my own children ! 
 Ah, how long have I flattered myself that I should have 
 one day a right to call you by the title of my son ! — how 
 often have I thought that I should find, in your kindness 
 and liberal feeling, a compensation for the headstrong 
 and inconsiderate conduct of that mad-headed young man, 
 whose violence and rash conduct keeps me in continual 
 terror ! Even now I tremble for the consequences of tins 
 affair ! I tremble lest his resentment against you — ^un- 
 just as I feel it to be but your principles, your good 
 
 sense, Mr. Montgomery, will, I trust, prevent your being 
 irritated by his folly — you will not, I am sure you will 
 not, listen to him, should he (which I dread he will,) 
 demand satisfaction of you for the injury and insult he 
 imagines you have offered his family ! Promise me, 
 Mr. Montgomery, that you will not meet him. Oh, if 
 you should, and either were to fall ” 
 
 I have no fear, madam,” interrupted Denzil, evasively, 
 ^Hhat Mr. Maurice Delaney will pursue his resent- 
 ment any further than he has done ; and, be assured, my 
 principles and feelings would lead me to avoid rather than 
 seek the sanguinary mode of settling our differences 
 which you so justly deprecate. Let me entreat you, 
 therefore, to return home, and console yourself with the 
 assurance that I am much more disposed to conciliate, if 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 241 
 
 I can do so with honour, than to have recourse to 
 violence.” 
 
 ‘‘ Alas, alas, this is but equivocal, Mr. Montgomery,” 
 she exclaimed. “You avoid promising me that ” 
 
 “ Really, madam, this is too much to expect,” inter- 
 rupted Denzil, impatiently. “ I have told you I will 
 conciliate your son, if I can do so, with a due regard to 
 my own honour ; and farther than this, you cannot ex- 
 pect that I should pledge myself. Let me beg, therefore, 
 for your own sake, that you will put an end to this inter- 
 view, so painful to both of us.” 
 
 “ I cannot — Oh, Heavens, I cannot return home in 
 this dreadful uncertainty !” she exclaimed. “ Oh, Mr. 
 Montgomery, only place yourself for a moment in my 
 situation — but no, you cannot — you cannot comprehend 
 a mother’s feelings, a mother’s griefi at beholding an 
 amiable, accomplished, and, I will say, beautiful daughter 
 reduced to despair, by the indifference of the man to whom 
 she has given her young heart ! — a mother, dreading that 
 her only son — a fine, noble young man, whose only fault 
 is his impetuosity, and too fine sense of honour, perhaps 
 about to expose his life, or sacrifice that of another-— and 
 that other scarcely less dear to me than himself — in re- 
 venge for the wrongs done to his sister ! Oh, no, you 
 cannot, cannot feel for me, or you would not hesitate to 
 save me from distraction and despair ! And where, after 
 all, Mr. Montgomery, would be the mighty sacrifice ^ Julia 
 is your equal in all but fortune ! Alas, little did I think, 
 after the splendid offers that she has refused, I should 
 ever have to sue to one who rejects her — rejects her only 
 l)ccause she has been so candid, so imprudent, I may say, 
 as to let him see that she cannot live without him.” 
 
 2 I 
 
242 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 The pity which Montg-omery had at first given to Mrs. 
 Delaney’s tears and apparent distress, had been fast dis- 
 appearing before her pertinacity, and evident want of 
 that delicacy which he considered no circumstances ought 
 to banish from tlie mind and manners of a female — but 
 her last speech completely obliterated all his sympathy 
 with her feelings, or rather raised the doubt in his mind 
 whether she really possessed any of the acute sensibility 
 which she thus paraded. He recollected all the reasons 
 he had to believe that the whole family were false, artifi- 
 cial, and deceptive ; and he could not but come to the 
 conclusion, that Mrs. Delaney’s theatrical declamation, and 
 the evidently forced hysterical sobs and tears with which 
 it was accompanied, were merely the dictates of consum- 
 mate art, assumed in the hope of working upon his inex- 
 perience, and moulding him to her wishes. 
 
 Indignant at the thought that they should consider him 
 so weak as thus to be made subservient to their purposes, 
 and heartily despising the woman who could thus prosti- 
 tute superior talents for such an unworthy purpose, his 
 countenance bore the most expressive marks of the dis- 
 dain he felt, and rising’ from his chair he observed — 
 
 Forgive me, madam, it can neither benefit you nor 
 myself to continue this scene any longer — I am also in 
 expectation of a visitor, to whom your presence here 
 would oblige me to enter into explanations derogatory to 
 you, and highly unpleasant to me.” 
 
 Am I to understand, then, Mr. Montgomery, that 
 you mean to send me away thus abruptly, without con- 
 descending to say one word to relieve my fears ?” de- 
 manded Mrs. Delaney. 
 
 have no tiling to add, madam, to what I before 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 243 
 
 stated,” replied Denzil, coolly. ‘‘ I am willing* to make 
 all due allowance for your maternal feelings,” he added, 
 after a considerable pause ; ‘‘ but, I really must confess, 
 your present conduct seems to me most inconsistent 
 with those principles which I have hitherto g'iven you 
 full credit for. Excuse me,” he hastily added, observing 
 the storm gathering on her brow, as she started from the 
 languid position she had assumed on the sofa, upon 
 which she had been seated. Excuse me,” he repeated, 
 ‘‘ I neither can nor will prolong this conversation.” 
 
 He rang the bell violently as he spoke, and Ned 
 instantly entered — 
 
 ‘‘ Is Mrs. Delaney’s carriage waiting ?” he demanded. 
 
 Ned looked with surprise at the lady, who was now 
 standing in the middle of the room, her softness and 
 extreme sorrow all thrown aside, and her fine eyes 
 sparkling with anger and resentment. 
 
 “ No, sir,” she observed, in a tone fully corresponding 
 with her looks, “ I have no carriage waiting — I came 
 here in a fiacre^ which I sent away, because I imagined 
 myself secure that Mr. Montgomery possessed so much 
 respect for me, and consideration for my feelings, that I 
 should be sure of his attendance home — but it appears I 
 deceived myself. You need not, however, alarm your- 
 self, sir — I shall not longer intrude upon you — I can 
 find my way home by myself, I dare say.” 
 
 “ You had better let my man get you a conveyance,” 
 observed Montgomery, coolly. 
 
 “ I can get you a coach in a moment, ma’am,” said 
 Ned, with whom Mrs. Delaney was rather more a 
 favourite than the rest of the family. 
 
 Mrs, Delaney threw herself on the sofa again, and 
 
244 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 gave way to a still more violent hysteric than slie had 
 before played oiF. 
 
 Denzil’s patience was now completely worn out — 
 
 “ Send some of the females to her,” he exclaimed to 
 Ned, as he rushed out of the room, and retreated to his 
 own chamber, where he continued until the lady, having- 
 thought proper to recover, accepted Ned’s olfer and 
 departed in a fiacre. 
 
 She is gone, sir,” said Ned, putting in his head 
 at the door, his wide mouth extended from ear to ear. 
 
 Montgomery could not help smiling at the expression 
 of his countenance, but he had suffered too much serious 
 vexation to be in a very risible mood, and was quite 
 unwilling to gratify Ned’s curiosity by relatinghvbat had 
 been the, cause of the strange scene he had witnessed; 
 he therefore desired him to depart, and not to intrude 
 upon him until he found it necessary to call for his 
 attendance. 
 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 If I must die, 
 
 I will encounter darkness as a bride, 
 
 And hug it in my arms. Skakspk-Aue. 
 
 Amidst the various subjects which occupied Denzil 
 Montgomery’s attention, after the departure of Mrs. 
 Delaney, that which most painfitlly affected him, next to 
 the agonising uncertainty which he still suffered respect- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER 
 
 245 
 
 ing' his mother, was the consideration of what would be 
 the opinion of his friends in England on this affair, should 
 it not prove fatal to him ; and what would be their afflio- 
 tion, should he fall a victim ? 
 
 “ Always act with strict honour yourself, and keep no 
 company but such as are guided by the same principle,” 
 observed Mr. Levison to him, on the eve of his depar- 
 ture, “ and there will then be no fear of your ever being 
 engaged in what are miscalled, affairs of honour.” How 
 little did he then foresee (thought Denzil) as he recalled 
 this observation to his memory — how little could he then 
 anticipate, that the pupil on whose prudence and conduct 
 he so confidently relied, would so soon be compelled to 
 engage in what he had then joined in strongly condemn- 
 ing-? 
 
 “ At least,” he reflected, “they shall know the truth, and 
 judge how far I am to be condemned, as having provoked 
 this affair.” 
 
 Influenced by these thoughts, he sat down and wrote 
 a distinct narrative of the whole affair to Mr. Levison, at 
 the same time detailing the discovery he had made rela- 
 tive to his mother, and her letter to him, warning him of 
 the designs of the Delaneys ; and, in conclusion, he pathe- 
 tically entreated Mr. Levison to rescue this unfortunate 
 woman from her present degradation and distress. 
 
 “ I have not presumed,” he remarked, “ formally to 
 bequeath the sum, which your generosity placed at my 
 disposal ; but I am certain that, in leaving it in your hands, 
 you will act towards her as it was my intention to do — 
 namely, to secure her from future fears of want, and re- 
 move her beyond the reach of temptation to do evil. It 
 may be supposed that I can have but little regard for a 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 34r> 
 
 parent who seems to have deserted me in infancy, to em- 
 brace a life of misery and disg-race ; hut my heart yearns 
 towards her with a feeling- I cannot describe, and, at this 
 moment, I feel as if I could welcome death, could I but 
 see her restored to comfort and respectability, for Fanny’s 
 sake, if not for mine — but I will not urge another word — 
 It would be an insult to you, could I for a moment sup- 
 pose that you would hesitate to rescue her from such 
 wretchedness as she is now, I fear, suffering. Should I 
 fall, (and if I do not fall, this letter will not come to your 
 hands), that wretchedness will be aggi’avated tenfold; and 
 I earnestly, solemnly implore you, to lose no time in 
 hastening to her relief.” 
 
 The painful task of writing this last expression of his 
 feelings and wishes was scarcely completed, before Mr. 
 Drennan, accompanied by the friend he had spoken of, 
 entered the room, 
 
 “Allow me, Mr. Montgomery, to introduce to you Mr. 
 St. George,” observed Mr. Drennan. “ I have already 
 explained to him the circumstances which will render his 
 assistance desirable to you; but as your account of the 
 affair may somewhat differ from mine, it will be as well, 
 probably, that I leave you together, and he and I will 
 afterwards settle the necessary arrangements. I shall see 
 you,” addressing Mr. St. George, “ in about an hour — 
 you know the place of appointment ?” 
 
 Mr. St. George assented, and Denzil and he were left 
 alone together. 
 
 There was nothing very imposing in the appearance of 
 Mr. St. George, who was a plain, sickly-looking young 
 man, with an expression of countenance particularly mild 
 and gentle. Denzil, however, felt rather embarrassed at 
 
i 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 247 
 
 being- thus left to detail to a stranger the unpleasant cir- 
 cumstances which had arisen, and for some moments he 
 remained silent. 
 
 Mr. St. George at length spoke. “ You have been 
 writing, I see,” he observed, with the tone and familiarity 
 of an old acquaintance. “ I hope you do not think it 
 necessary to be making your last will and testament !” 
 
 “ I have thought it necessary to guard against the 
 worst possible result,” replied Denzil. 
 
 “ Then you are determined to fight ?” said Mr. St. 
 George, smiling. 
 
 “ I shall have no option,” returned Denzil ; for I 
 cannot, nor will not make any concession, when I feel 
 that I am in the right.” 
 
 That is bravely determined,” replied St. George ; 
 “ but do you really think that matters will be carried to 
 such an extremity. For my own part, I acknowledge 
 I do not think that Dennis Delaney will stand fire — I 
 know but little of him, to be sure ; but of this I am 
 certain, that, though he never yet lacked resolution to 
 commit a bad action, he has always wanted courage to 
 defend it.” 
 
 “ Indeed !” replied Denzil, ‘‘ I should not have sus- 
 pected that — for Mr. Delaney always appeared to me a 
 firm, determined character, much more so than his son, 
 whose bluster I have often thought was more in sound 
 than reality.” 
 
 “ I could give you some striking proofs that the 
 father’s determination has as little foundation as the son’s 
 fierceness and assumption,” returned St. George. 
 
 ‘‘ There is but one point on which he is determined, and 
 that is — to make all he can, out of the fools whom his 
 
'I’lIE GIJ>SY MO'l'IlER. 
 
 2'i.y 
 
 plausible ami specious manner enables him to impose 
 upon. You blush at the word ‘ fools,’ Mr. Montg-omery, 
 but when I tell you that I have been so imposed upon, 
 and have been a sufferer to a much greater extent than 
 you, I hope, have been — you will not be angry at my 
 using that epithet.” 
 
 ‘‘ Certainly not,” replied Denzil, “ nor, indeed, ought 
 I under any circumstances, without I acknowledged 
 myself to ” 
 
 Oh, then, you do not admit that you have been 
 taken in by him?” interrupted St. George; but pro- 
 bably you may find tliat you are in for it much deeper 
 than you suspect.” 
 
 Let me be in as deep as I may,” returned Denzil, 
 smiling, “ a pistol ball may soon wipe off the score.” 
 
 He won’t fight ; I will bet you what you like, he 
 never drawls a trigger against you ! It is all vapour and 
 smoke — however, it is quite right that you should have 
 some one on your side, to see fair play — for though 
 Drennan would not let any thing very atrocious take 
 place, he’s too much in their interest to be a fair umpire. 
 They will be rarely surprised,” he added, with an air of 
 exultation, when they see me on the ground — for they 
 will know, then, that their character is finally settled with 
 you. But how long have you been acquainted with 
 them ? Not very long, I presume, from your disavow- 
 ing that you have been mtich taken in.” 
 
 Denzil related his encounter with the Delaneys nt 
 Dover, attempting to slightly pass by the fact that his 
 first acquaintance with them liad originated in his ])eing 
 enabled to confer a pecuniary favour on the head of the 
 family; but Mr. St. George was too shrewd not to 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 249 
 
 discover that there was something in the back-ground, and 
 his questions elicited from Denzii the whole affair. 
 
 He laughed so heartily at the recital, that Denzii felt 
 half-inclined to be angry 
 
 « Forgive me, my dear sir,” he at length observed; 
 ‘‘but I cannot help being diverted at the thought of your 
 benevolent compassion, and attention to the feelings of 
 the ladies — but it is almost time I attended my appoint- 
 ment with Drennan, and I must therefore postpone, until 
 a. future opportunity, returning your confidence by relat- 
 ing my adventures in connexion with the same respecta- 
 ble and amiable family — only thus far I will tell you : — 
 that I, too, have been the happy man destined to receive 
 the fair hand of Miss Julia Delaney, but that I had not 
 half your wisdom, for I eagerly caught at the bait, and 
 was for six weeks desperately in love with her. Why I 
 did not become her husband, shall be a tale for another 
 time. Adieu, au remit 
 
 Again was Denzii left to his own meditations — but it 
 was not for long, for Mr. St. George speedily returned. 
 
 “ You must be ready at five to-morrow morning, in 
 the Bois de Boulogne. Mr. Dennis Delaney is quite 
 intractable, and you must meet.” 
 
 “ I shall be ready,” replied Denzii. ' 
 
 “ And, in the mean time, how will you dispose of your- 
 self?” inquired St. George; “it will not be wise to sit 
 down to meditate on the friends you have left behind, or 
 any other equally subject, which can only serve 
 
 to depress your spirits and unnerve you. You had better 
 accompany me to the Theatre, and drive away thought.” 
 
 “I am not anxious to drive away thought,” replied Den- 
 zii ; “on the contrary, I have many subjects to which I 
 
 2 K 
 
250 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 am anxious to g-ive all possible attention, lest I should 
 omit doin^ that which I may have no opportunity after- 
 wards of repairing.” 
 
 “Well, then, I will not interrupt you,” returned St. 
 George, “cwid indeed I must go to the Comedie Francaise 
 — for there is a female friend of mine to make her first 
 appearance — but are you provided with pistols? — if you 
 are not, I have an excellent pair at your service.” 
 
 “ I have a pair,” said Denzil, “ but I can say nothing 
 as to their excellence, for I have never tried them, and, 
 indeed, scarcely looked at them since they were purchased 
 for me.” 
 
 “ It is highly necessary, then, they should be looked 
 at,” observed St. George, coming back into the room. 
 
 Denzil rang for Ned, and desired him to bring the pis- 
 tols, which had never been taken out of the travelling-case. 
 
 “The — the what, sir?” stammered Ned, his florid 
 colour fading to deadly white, as his eyes glanced from 
 his master to the stranger. 
 
 “ The pistols, you blockhead !” said Denzil, in an un- 
 usually impetuous tone. 
 
 Ned retreated with evident dismay, but it was not until 
 he returned, that Denzil, whose thoughts were occupied 
 with other subjects, discovered the terror that had taken 
 possession of the senses of his servant. 
 
 “You need not be alarmed, Ned,” he observed, “this 
 gentleman is a friend, and is not come here on any hos- 
 tile errand.” 
 
 I hope not,” said Ned, bluntly, “ but I donna like 
 such deadly weapons !” 
 
 “ Nor do I, my friend, I assure you,” said St. George, 
 smiling, “ I never look at them, or handle them, without 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 25 \ 
 
 feeling a sort of nervous trepidation; but I must conquer 
 these fears now, for I want to see whether these are 
 worth any thing.” 
 
 They cost a power o’ money, and they’re none the 
 worse for wear, for they’ve never been used,” said Ned, 
 his countenance brightening at the discovery, which he 
 believed he had made, that the stranger only wanted to 
 purchase the pistols; and, emboldened by his master’s 
 silence, he launched forth most eloquently in the praise of 
 the workmanship, and repeated several times, with great 
 emphasis, that they were quite “ spick and span new.” Mr. 
 St. George appeared greatly entertained with Ned’s dia- 
 lect and simplicity; and, fully comprehending the mistake 
 he had fallen into, he confirmed it by undervaluing the 
 pistols, though at the same time, he took care to hint to 
 Denzil that they would answer his purpose. 
 
 We will go out in the morning and try them,” he 
 observed; ‘‘ and if they answer, I will not mind giving 
 for them double what they cost.” 
 
 This observation, which was intended to lull Ned’s 
 suspicions, completely answered the purpose; and he em- 
 ployed himself, after Mr. St. George’s departure, in 
 rubbing and polishing the pistols — not, however, without 
 secretly wondering why his master should wish to part 
 with them. 
 
 The night passed mournfully and heavily away with 
 Denzil — the veil which passion and worldly feelings had 
 thrown over the transaction in which he was about to 
 engage, seemed withdrawn in the solitude of night, and 
 he beheld, in all its features of horror and deformity, the 
 savage custom with which he was about to comply. 
 
 A Bible, which had been the gift of Miss Rachel, and 
 
THE GirSY MOTHEK. 
 
 252 
 
 which always was placed on his dressing-table, met his 
 siglit; but he dared not seek in its sacred pages that 
 comfort which, amid the storm of other feelings, he had 
 frequently found there. The prayer which half rose to 
 his lips was suppressed — for he dared not with vile mock- 
 ery address his Creator, at the very moment that he was 
 preparing to act in open defiance of his laws. 
 
 The morning broke, and found him sleepless, pale, and 
 agitated. He drew aside the window-curtain which im- 
 peded the entrance of the first rays of the sun 
 
 It may be the last time I am destined to behold this 
 glorious sight !” he observed. At that moment he beheld a 
 person slowly walking along the opposite side of the 
 street into which he was looking, and as the individual drew 
 nearer, Denzil discovered that it was Mr. St. George. 
 He was about to depart from the window, and pre- 
 pare to receive him, when he was surprised by observing 
 that he passed on, without seeming to notice the house. 
 
 Denzil soon, however, discovered that he had gone 
 forward to meet another person, who was advancing 
 from the other end of the street, and they now stood in 
 earnest conversation together. It was too far distant for 
 Denzil accurately to distinguish who this other person 
 was, but the figure, manner, and appearance all strongly 
 sug’gested to him that it was the very person he was so 
 anxious to see — the mysterious being who had first dis- 
 turbed his happiness, and who, he feared to find, was 
 now but too closely connected with him. It was, in 
 lact, the l)rother-in-law of Mr. Delaney, the father or 
 reputed father of his (DenziFs) unhappy mother. 
 
 He darted down stairs, the moment the thought oc- 
 curred to him ; but, though he was breathless with haste, 
 
THE CxIPSY MOTHE!?. 
 
 25:5 
 
 when he reached the street, the object of his anxiety was 
 gone, and St. George was returning alone towards the 
 hotel. 
 
 Who was that? — excuse me, if I appear impertinent! 
 — who was the man with whom you have just parted ? I 
 have the most pressing, the most important reasons for 
 wishing to know !” 
 
 Mr. St. George looked surprised, That person,” he 
 replied, was an unfortunate countryman of mine — one 
 
 who has but I do not know that I am at liberty to 
 
 answer your question. He has some important reasons 
 for wishing to remain concealed, and as those may be 
 connected with your important reasons for wishing to 
 know who he is — and as I am under some obligations to 
 him ” 
 
 Be assured,” exclaimed Denzil, interrupting liim, 
 that my motives are not unfriendly to him ! But, if it 
 be the person that I suspect it is, he has it in his power 
 to explain a mystery, and to remove doubts, which 
 render my life a misery 
 
 But, my dear sir, do you recollect that it now wants 
 but a very short time of a period much more important 
 to you than the explanation of any mysteries?” said 
 St. George. Let that affair ])e got over, and I will 
 then do all in my power to satisfy you, respecting 
 O’Bryen.” 
 
 “ O’Bryen !” repeated Denzil, hastily; ‘‘ that is some- 
 thing gained — for I have never before been able to learn 
 by what name he was distinguished. But is it, after all, 
 the same person? You can at least answer that question. 
 Is O’Bryen the brother of Mrs. Delaney ?” 
 
 I cannot positively say,” replied St. George, and 
 
THE HIPSY' MOTHER. 
 
 204 
 
 yet I rather suspect you are right. He is, I know, some- 
 ]iow allied to them, though I did not know what relation- 
 ship existed ; but it strikes me, from many circumstances, 
 that you are right — and principally because there is a 
 very striking resemblance between Mrs. Delaney and 
 O’Bryen’s daughter, though the latter has been much 
 handsomer than ” 
 
 “ His daughter ! — Do you then know his daughter?” 
 exclaimed Denzil, in a faltering voice. 
 
 “ Yes, I do know her — but, my good friend, what is 
 the meaning of this violent agitation ?” returned Mr. St. 
 George. O’Bryen’s daughter is now neither young 
 nor handsome, though she has been eminently so.” 
 
 “ No, no, no !” exclaimed Denzil, impatiently, “ it is 
 not that — I spoke not of her in that light ! — But is she 
 
 what is her situation in life ? is she ” 
 
 He paused, unable to finish the sentence, and St. 
 George, with increasing surprise, repeated — 
 
 Her situation ! — her situation is bad enough, and 
 miserable enough, but not more so, I believe, than is 
 
 generally the result of a youth of dissipation and ” 
 
 “ That is enough ! I am quite satisfied !” replied 
 Denzil, in a faint voice; “but at a future time,” he 
 resumed, with more vivacity, “ I will call upon you to 
 fulfil your promise, and, if possible, procure me an inter- 
 view with this unhappy woman.” 
 
 “ I cannot, for the life of me, imagine what interest 
 you can have in these people,” observed Mr. St. 
 George, with increased curiosity, “ but we will now 
 turn our attention to the affair we have in hand — for we 
 have but a few minutes to spare, over the time that it 
 will take us to reach the spot appointed for the ren- 
 
 i 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 255 
 
 centre. Heaven send that it were well over, for I do 
 not like these things, though one cannot live in the world 
 without doing as the world does.” 
 
 It is a bad world ! I care not how soon I leave it !” 
 said Denzil, with bitterness, as he led the way to his 
 apartment. 
 
 And yet,” returned St. George, with a sigh, “ to 
 judge from outward appearance, you have little to com- 
 plain of. You have, to be sure, met with some bad 
 specimens of the world, in these people ; but should this 
 affair terminate favourably, as I hope it may, it will teach 
 you caution and distrust; and these two qualities, with 
 a good income and a clear conscience, will make it ” 
 
 ‘‘ Never — never !” interrupted Denzil, with emphasis, 
 ‘‘but come, I am ready!” 
 
 They walked in silence to the place appointed, and 
 were the first who reached it. Mr. Dennis Delaney, 
 his friend Drenuan, and a third person (a surgeon), al- 
 most immediately made their appearance. 
 
 It would have been very evident to an indifferent spec-» 
 tator, that the appearance of Mr. St. George, as the 
 second of his antagonist, was neither expected or desired 
 by Mr. Dennis Delaney, who seemed to regard him with 
 no trifling degree of confusion ; but Denzil was little dis- 
 posed to make any observations. The repugnance he 
 had felt, on principle, to engage in this contest, the tender 
 and melancholy feelings which had arisen in his bosom at 
 the thoughts of what his friends would suffer, should it 
 prove fatal to him — even the natural fear which “ flesh is 
 heir to,” at the near prospect of death, and which it must 
 be confessed had at first some slight share in the sensa- 
 tions of our hero, — all had vanished, or, rather, all were 
 
256 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 absorbed in the bitter and intense feeling of misery and 
 disgrace, which the expressions of St. George respecting 
 her, whom he now felt compelled to acknowledge as his 
 mother, had originated ; and he now felt not only indif- 
 ferent to the event of the contest, but, as he took his 
 stand on the spot pointetl out to him, his bosom seemed 
 nerved by the desperate wish that he might soon cease to 
 feel the insupportable agony that now overwhelmed 
 him. 
 
 Contrary to St. George’s predictions, Mr. Dennis De- 
 laney refused to listen to any attempts at a reconciliation. 
 The former, indeed, as the friend of Montgomery, was 
 not empowered to offer any; and Drennan, though he made 
 some advances, as in duty bound, acknowledged that 
 nothing short of Mr. Montgomery’s fulfilling his engage- 
 ments with Miss Delaney, would satisfy the wounded 
 honour of the family; and to this, of course, Mr. St. 
 George was instructed to give a positive refusal. 
 
 The combatants, therefore, took their appointed stand 
 —and, at the signal agreed on, both fired — and both 
 fell ! ! I-. — 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 257 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Gone from her cheek is the summer bloom, 
 
 And iier lip has lost all its faint perfume. 
 
 And the gloss has dropped from her golden hair, 
 And her cheek is pale, but no longer fair. 
 
 Bahuy Cornwall. 
 
 Many hours had elapsed before Denzil Montg*omery 
 awoke to a perfect recollection of what had taken place, 
 and then it was to he convinced he still lived, by the 
 endurance of the most acute bodily agony. The ball of 
 his antagonist had lodged in his side, and the tortures he 
 felt were occasioned by the efforts of the surgeons to 
 extract it. 
 
 The operation was, at length, completely successful, and 
 Denzil, in some measure relieved from the torture he 
 had suffered, became capable of thought and reflection. 
 
 His first inquiries were as to the fate of Delaney, whom 
 he recollected to have seen extended on the ground, at 
 the moment when, after reeling some paces, he had him- 
 self fallen ; and he heard, with great satisfaction, that the 
 wound Mr. Delaney had received, was comparatively of 
 trifling moment. 
 
 The positive orders of the surgeons prevented his ask- 
 ing any further questions, and he knew not, therefore, 
 even where he was, though the poverty of the bed on 
 which he was laid, and the meanness of the apartment, 
 betrayed to him that he had not been conveyed to the 
 hotel which he had left in the morning. He saw, how- 
 
258 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ever, with satisfaction, that his servants, Ned and 
 Jacques, were in attendance, though the fright and con- 
 sternation of the former evidently disqualified him from 
 heing either a very active or useful assistant. 
 
 The threats of the doctors, that he should be entirely 
 excluded from the room, and not sulFered to see his 
 master at all, had operated so upon poor Ned, as to 
 force him to suppress any noisy indication of his grief, 
 which had at first been sufficiently tumultuous; but, 
 tliough he was forbidden to give utterance to his feel- 
 ings, his pale and lengthened visage, the convulsive 
 wringing of his hands, and the efforts he made to sup- 
 press the groans which heaved his chest, were all dis- 
 tinctly visible to his master, who felt at once pained and 
 pleased at these evidences of the poor fellow’s attachment. 
 
 He would fain have called him to his bed-side and 
 consoled him, but the surgeon, who sat attentively watch- 
 ing him, was peremptory in his commands that his 
 patient should preserve the strictest silence, and Denzil, 
 though scarcely conscious why he did so, yielded com- 
 pliance. 
 
 The medicines which had been given to procure him 
 repose, at length asserted their power, and he sank into a 
 profound sleep. 
 
 The inquiries which his vigilant attention to the 
 symptoms of his patient had hitherto delayed, were now 
 made to Ned, by the surgeon, through the medium of 
 Jacques ; and he desired to be informed of the circum- 
 stances, situation in life, and friends of the sufferer ; and 
 the grief of poor Ned was with difficulty restrained from 
 breaking out into loud lamentation, as he gave the neces- 
 sary answers to the questions that were put to him. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 259 
 
 His master had neither father nor mother,” he said ; 
 
 but he had friends, who had been both father and 
 mother to him, and who, he was sure, would break their 
 hearts, if they could see him now dying in such a miser- 
 able place, and in such a manner.” 
 
 “ But has Mr. Montgomery no friends in Paris, who 
 would take upon themselves to acquaint his relations in 
 England with the affair that has taken place ?” inquired 
 the surgeon. 
 
 Ned shook his head, despondingly — His master had 
 no friends in this country,” he replied. “ Those who 
 ought to be his friends, had turned out his bitterest foes, 
 and as to sending a man off, though he shouldn’t stand 
 for the expense, for he knew they wouldn’t begrudge a 
 hundred pounds rather than his poor master should die 
 without a friend near him — yet what would be the use 
 of sending a blundering Frenchman, that couldn’t make 
 himself understood in England, and would perhaps never 
 find them out?” 
 
 Monsieur Jacques, the interpreter, was violently 
 offended at this imputation upon his knowledge of the 
 English language, as he had previously insinuated to Ned 
 the propriety of his being himself sent off as courier ex- 
 traordinary to his master’s friends in England; but the 
 surgeon’s smiles and his uplifted finger kept his resent- 
 ment within bounds, and he proceeded with his difficult 
 task of endeavouring to elicit from Ned the necessary 
 directions to the persons of whom he spoke in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 During the course of inquiry, Ned suddenly recollected 
 that his master had written a letter on the preceding 
 evening, which would supply all the necessary informa- 
 
260 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 tion, as his loaniiiig was just sidlicleut to enable him to 
 make out that it was intended for Mister, or, (as he 
 called him) Squire Levisoii. 
 
 At his own suggestion, therefore, he was despatched 
 to the Hotel where it had been left; but, as he was 
 unable to read the writing contained in the unsealed paper 
 in which this letter was enveloped., and which contained 
 Denzifs directions to send the latter only in case of his 
 decease, he very prudently (as he conceived) left that 
 behind, not choosing, as he mentally observed, to expose 
 any of his master’s secrets to the meddling, officious 
 Jacques, who had boasted that, though he spoke English 
 but imperfectly, he could read it as well as he could his 
 native tongue ; which, by the by, was not very improb- 
 able, as Monsieur Jacques, with all his fluency and self- 
 consequence, could in reality boast but little more learn- 
 ing than the rude ignorant English rustic, whom he 
 affected so heartily to despise. 
 
 The inference which the doctor drew, therefore, when 
 he saw, on Ned’s return, that the letter was properly 
 sealed and directed, was that Mr. Montgomery had 
 intended it to have been sent; and having, therefore, 
 written a succinct account of the present alarming, but, 
 he trusted, not hopeless situation of his patient, he en- 
 closed Denzii’s letter in his own, and sent it off by a 
 special courier, according to the address, long before 
 Denzil awoke from the slumber which art and the ex- 
 haustion of long suffering had created. 
 
 For some hours the symptoms of the sufferer were fa- 
 vourable, but no sooner did his mind resume its full 
 powers, than the remembrance of all that liad combined 
 to distress and irritate, seemed to return with fresh force. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 261 
 
 He became restless and feverish ; and when the medical 
 attendant, who had ventured to leave him for a few 
 hours, returned in the evening, he found him in a com- 
 plete state of delirium. 
 
 Several days passed away, and Denzil Montgomery 
 hovered between life and death. Ned, who, after the 
 first ebullition of terror and grief had subsided, had re- 
 covered his activity and usual carefulness and attention, 
 was never absent from the bed-side of his sufiering mas- 
 ter; and he found an able assistant in the person of a 
 woman whom the doctor introduced as a nurse, and 
 who, from her thoroughly comprehending the English 
 language, though she could speak but little of it, was a 
 complete treasure to the afflicted domestic, who could 
 pour out to her those complaints which he would other- 
 wise have been obliged to confine to his own bosom ; 
 and was compelled, as he beheld her sympathising tears 
 and sighs, which were the only replies beyond a few 
 broken sentences which she occasionally uttered, to 
 acknowledge that there was one good heart out of 
 England. 
 
 Nothing, indeed, could exceed the tender care and 
 assiduity of Marguerite (for so she was called ;) her 
 whole thoughts and attention seemed absorbed in her 
 patient, and for nights and days she hung over him, or 
 knelt by his bed-side, neglecting even necessary nourish- 
 ment, and insensible, apparently, to weariness or fatigue, 
 but listening with the most intense interest to the wild 
 ravings, or shedding tears of pity at the murmured com- 
 plainings of the invalid. 
 
 In the height of his delirium, Denzil would sometimes 
 address her as his beloved Fanny — at one moment 
 
262 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 pouring forth effusions of the most passionate love, and 
 then, with apparent remorse, entreating her to forget the 
 guilty passion which had undone him. 
 
 “ I try to think of you as my sister,” he would exclaim, 
 “ I try to forget that I have ever indulged another feel- 
 ing ; but I cannot — I cannot — it is too deeply buried in 
 my heart !” 
 
 At other times he would fancy that it was his mother 
 who watched beside his pillow, and, in the most pathetic 
 terms, he would entreat her never again to desert him — 
 never to return to those who had estranged her heart 
 from her children, from virtue, and from peace. 
 
 “ I shall never be happy in this world !” he once remark- 
 ed, with a heavy sigh; “but it would relieve my heart of 
 its heaviest burthen, could I but restore you to comfort, to 
 self-esteem ! I would fly with you to the other end of 
 the world — surely, we might find some spot, where your 
 unhappy story has never been disclosed, and where we 
 might linger out the remainder of our lives in obscurity 
 — where no one could reproach me with the disgrace of 
 my birth ! But I will not reproach you — you feel, I 
 know you feel, how deeply you have injured yourself and 
 me — and my father, too — where is he ; why does he so 
 long suffer you to lead such a life ? Oh, I could curse 
 him, but I dare not— -I dare not ! oh no, he is the father 
 of Fanny, too — that angel, whom I must never, never 
 again behold !” 
 
 It was on such occasions as these, that the tender and 
 compassionate feelings of Marguerite were most con- 
 spicuous — though she seemed desirous to suppress their 
 appearance; but Ned’s wonder at her excessive emo- 
 tion subsided, when in broken words, between sighs and 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 268 
 
 tears, she informed him that she had herself lost a sou 
 under very peculiar circumstances, and that Mr. Mont- 
 g-omery bore a strong resemblance to her beloved 
 William. 
 
 William ! that is an English name,” observed her 
 sympathising auditor. 
 
 Yes,” she replied, ‘Miis father — his father was 
 an Englishman.” 
 
 And is he dead, too ?” inquired Ned. 
 
 “ Yes — no — I cannot say — he left me to to,” she 
 
 added, after a long pause, to misery and disgrace.” 
 
 “ Then he was a rascal !” said Ned, with energy, “ and 
 I would scorn to own him as my countryman, even 
 amongst the savages in America.” 
 
 The loud tone in which he had given utterance to his 
 indignation, had roused the invalid from the lethargy into 
 which he had sank, after his previous exertion; and 
 Marguerite, apparently reproaching herself, even for 
 this temporary indulgence of her own feelings, flew to the 
 bed-side to inquire, in a soft whisper, if he would take 
 any thing. 
 
 “ I thank you,” replied Eenzil, in a faint voice, but with 
 more appearance of recollection than he had for some 
 days shewn; “ I am very thirsty ! — But who is here? 
 I thought I heard voices talking, and fancied it was some 
 one very dear to me — but my head is very confused, and 
 I believe I have had a long and painful dream.” 
 
 Thank God, you are better ! I know you are better, 
 sir !” exclaimed Ned, hastily unclosing the bed curtain, 
 and thus throwing a strong light on the features of 
 Marguerite, who was now holding the cup \vith drink 
 close to her patient. 
 
'J’llE GIPSY MOTHEP. 
 
 2ryi 
 
 Denzil started. 
 
 ‘‘ Who is that ? surely I have seen that face before — 
 or am I still dreaming 
 
 No, no — you are not now, my dear master; it is your 
 good and faithful nurse that you see, who is, I am sure, 
 as glad as I am, to see you so much better !” 
 
 Nurse !” repeated Denzil, still gazing on the agitated 
 Marguerite. 
 
 “ Yes, sir, she is a French woman, but can speak a 
 little English, because her husband was an Englishman — 
 a bad fellow though, wasn’t he, Marguerite ?” 
 
 Marguerite held up her finger, in token of silence ; 
 and then, without appearing to notice Denzil’s earnest 
 look, she proceeded to raise and smooth his pillow, and 
 then exhibited so much bustle and assiduity, together 
 with an assumption of professional importance, which, 
 though directly contrary to her former quiet and deeply 
 interested manner, had the desired effect of lulling 
 Denzil’s anxiety, and induced him to conclude that she 
 was in reality only an ordinary nurse. 
 
 The apparent amendment of Denzil’s disorder, proved, 
 however, but of temporary duration ; for in a few hours 
 he relapsed into his former state, and with occasional 
 intervals of coherence and recollection he remained, until 
 the anxiety which the medical attendant felt, was some- 
 what relieved by the announcement of Mr. Levison’s 
 arrival in Paris. 
 
 The surgeon’s replies to the earnest inquiries of the 
 latter, were any thing but consolatory. 
 
 He is alive, sir — but ” 
 
 “ Let me see him, then, immediately — that I may give 
 him the consolation, poor fellow, of knowing that 1 will 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 265 
 
 rigidly attend to every thing he wishes! I am sure I 
 would do any thiiij^ in the world, hut I can’t comprehend 
 what he means, in his letter — however, I suppose he can 
 explain.” 
 
 ‘‘ I am fearful he is not in a situation to explain any 
 thing — and, indeed, if he should fortunately be able 
 to recognise you, it will be advisable to refrain from any 
 questions that can agitate him.” 
 
 “ Poor boy ! poor fellow ! not know me ! that is bad, 
 bad, indeed !” — and Mr. Levison burst into tears. 
 
 “ You must excuse me, sir, I am very weak and 
 childish ! — but this lad has been as a son to me — a good, 
 dutiful, gentle boy he has ever been ; and how he got 
 involved in such a dilemma I cannot guess — but I blame 
 myself, I blame myself — I had no business to send him 
 out into the world ; but let me see him ! pray, let me see 
 him ! I have left the poor girl in agonies — and my sister, 
 too, she doted on him I I shall never hear the last of it 
 from her !” 
 
 Mr. Labroisiere, the surgeon, led the way to the 
 humble cottage to which Denzil had been conveyed, and 
 from which it had been impossible to remove him. 
 
 Mr. Levison’s exclamations of pity and regret were 
 renewed at the sight of this place, but they were all 
 hushed into breathless silence — the silence of deep sorrow 
 and dismay — when he approached the bed-side, and 
 beheld the ravages which pain and mental suffering had 
 made in the handsome face and form of his favourite. 
 
 Denzil had been just raised in the bed by his attentive 
 nurse, who was sitting behind his pillow to support him, 
 when Mr. Levison entered. 
 
 A faint scream was heard, but it was not Denzil who 
 
266 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 uttered it, but Marguerite, who sank fainting behind 
 the pillow. 
 
 “ Poor thing ! she is quite worn out with fatigue,” 
 said the surgeon in a compassionate tone, and hastening 
 to her relief. 
 
 Ned, whose joy at seeing Mr. Levison had rendered 
 him nearly powerless, now recollected himself; and, by 
 ^ their united exertions. Marguerite was removed to an 
 outer room, and left to the care of the poor people who 
 inhabited the cottage, while Mr. Levison, whose attention 
 had been too much engrossed by the situation of Denzil 
 to pay much regard to the temporary bustle that had taken 
 place, had now seated himself by the bed-side. 
 
 “Do you know me, my dear boy?” he demanded, as 
 Denzil’s hollow eyes were turned with a look of earnest 
 inquiry towards him. 
 
 “ I should believe you are my best fidend,” he re- 
 plied, with hesitation, “but my poor weak brain has 
 so often deceived me lately, that I can scarcely credit 
 anything.” 
 
 “ You may believe it is one who has ever acted with 
 the best intentions towards you, Denzil,” said Mr. Le- 
 vison, kindly taking his hand, which he now extended 
 towards him, “though I 'have been mistaken — sadly 
 mistaken — and my folly has cost you your life ! Oh, 
 Denzil, I shall never never forgive myself! Had I acted 
 as I ought to have done, you might now have been in 
 health — the prop of my old age! But a prejudice — a 
 foolish mistaken pride — prevented my doing you justice, 
 and my poor girl, too — and sent you here, to be mur- 
 dered.” 
 
 He hid his face with his hands for some moments, and 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 26*7 
 
 remained silent, while Denzil, from weakness and ag-ita- 
 tion, was unable to utter that consolation which he would 
 have given. 
 
 ‘‘ And now what prospect have I ?” resumed Mr. Le- 
 vison, raising his voice. “ The boy that I cherished as 
 my own, and for whom I sacrificed your happiness, has 
 ungratefully deserted me — and has, by this time, I sup- 
 pose, married a young giddy jilt! — But, no matter, he 
 shall never have a farthing of my money — all that I 
 can cut him off from, I will — he may depend on it; and 
 if her mother acts towards them, as I hope she will, we 
 shall then make them bitterly repent their folly and du- 
 plicity. But I am tiring you, my good lad, with my 
 troubles,” he continued, “ though I know you will be 
 sorry to hear that your friend Charles has acted so shame- 
 fully. Ah, Denzil, he never was like you I And to think 
 how cruelly I have acted towards you — blighting your 
 prospects, and driving you upon the world, to meet such 
 a premature — but there is a hope that you may recover, 
 my dear boy — I am sure you look better since I have 
 come in, and I have brought two good nurses with me — 
 my sister and Fanny are both come; and you knew what 
 good nurses they are I You have often said, you know, 
 that Fanny 
 
 I have had a very diligent and tender nurse,” inter- 
 rupted Denzil, in a tumult of agitation, and I should be 
 very sorry 
 
 He paused, unable to finish the sentence. 
 
 Sorry I” repeated Mr. Levison, in a tone of surprise, 
 half mingled with resentment; but this was instantly 
 changed into feelings of alarm — for the temporary excite- 
 ment felt by Denzil had subsided, and left him in a state 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 t 
 
 ar>8 
 
 of exhaustion, which appeared, to the alarmed Levison, 
 the forerunner of immediate dissolution. 
 
 His loud exclamations brought the surgeon and the 
 affrighted Ned into the room, but it was long before the 
 object of their solicitude recovered from the deep swoon 
 into which he had fallen ; and when he did so, all traces 
 of sense or recollection seemed to have forsaken him, and 
 he resumed those delirious ravings which had all along 
 characterised his illness. 
 
 From a wild tumultuous dream, or rather what had 
 appeared to him a dream, Denzil awoke to find his bed 
 surrounded by those whose names had been perpetually 
 on his lips, but of whose presence he had hitherto been 
 unconscious. 
 
 Mr. Levison was seated by the side of the bed — Miss 
 Rachel was busily employed in some kind office at the 
 farther side of the chamber— -and at the foot of the bed 
 stood Fanny; but so altered, that Denzil gazed on her for 
 some moments, in doubt whether he beheld a real being 
 of flesh and blood. 
 
 The lustre had faded from her eye, the colour from 
 her cheek, and her fixed look and attitude gave her the 
 appearance of a marble statue. 
 
 The altered glance of DenziPs eye, as he gazed upon 
 her, and the faint blush which suffused his pallid cheek, 
 aroused her attention. She started, and, in a Ioav voice, 
 uttered a few words, which instantly brought Miss Rachel 
 to his side. 
 
 Denzil feebly extended his hand to welcome her, and 
 
 Fanny, bursting into tears, exclaimed 
 
 Thank Heaven ! he does know us, at last.” 
 
 Denzil’s heart beat violently at the sound of that 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 269 
 
 beloved voice — but he believed that he was dying, and 
 no feeling’s but those of pure unmixed joy, that he should 
 resign his last breath in the arms of his dearest friends, 
 now reigned in his bosom. 
 
 From this hour, however, Denzil began to amend; 
 the fever had passed its crisis, and in a few days he was 
 sufficiently recovered to be removed to a commodious 
 apartment, and to converse calmly and rationally with the 
 attentive friends, who watched over him with the most 
 incessant care and tenderness. 
 
 But, though Rachel’s care left no wish ungratified, and 
 though Denzil acknowledged with gratitude her atten- 
 tion and skill, he could not help recurring, with some- 
 thing like regret, to the absence of the gentle female 
 who had watched over him during the first part of his 
 illness. 
 
 From Ned he learned that Marguerite, or as he 
 (Ned) called her, Marget, had been suddenly taken ill on 
 the evening of Mr. Levison’s arrival, and had returned to 
 her own dwelling, which was at some distance ; so far, 
 indeed, that Ned had been unable to comply with her last 
 request at parting, that he should from time to time call 
 upon her, to let her know the state of his master. 
 
 “ I don’t think, by the by,” observed Ned, “ that the 
 poor woman has ever been paid for the time she was 
 here, and I believe she is very poor, though she seemed 
 like one that had seen better days ; and she is very proud- 
 spirited, too — for when 1 offered, before she went, to 
 speak to Mr. Levison about paying her wages, she 
 wouldn’t hear of it, but hurried away before I could get 
 an opportunity to tell him that she had not been paid, 
 though I dare say she wanted it bad enough, poor soul !” 
 
270 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 This and other remarks made to his master, by Ned, 
 when they were alone together, excited in Denzil an 
 almost irrepressible desire to see the female who was the 
 subject of them. 
 
 Romantic as it appeared, he could not divest himself 
 of the suspicion that it was really his mother, whom, as 
 Ned had informed him, he had often addressed as such. 
 
 The emotion she had displayed on those occasions — 
 the tender care and intense anxiety which she had mani- 
 fested towards him — the manner in which she had declined 
 receiving a pecuniary recompence for her services — and, 
 above all, her sudden illness and consequent retreat, upon 
 the appearance of Mr. Levison, all seemed to confirm 
 the belief, which was now deeply rooted in his mind. 
 
 He elicited from Ned that Mr. Levison had not seen 
 her, or at least so transiently and indistinctly that it was 
 unlikely he could recollect features which it was most 
 probable he had not beheld for years, and which he 
 could have had no expectation of beholding in such a 
 place, and under such a character — in short, Denzil was 
 determined to believe it was his mother ; and the most 
 trivial circumstances that could warrant the conviction, 
 were by him converted into absolute proofs. 
 
 Oh, how bitterly and impatiently did he lament the . 
 weakness that still confined him to his couch, and ren- 
 dered it impossible for him personally to fly to her, to 
 assure her of his affection, and to rescue her from all 
 fear of farther degradation and suffering. 
 
 The moment, however, he was able to hold a pen, 
 he addressed to her the following letter, which Ned 
 undertook to convey : — 
 
 “ I know not how to address you — but my heart tells 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 271 
 
 me, that, if the oblig-ations you have conferred on me 
 were only the result of a kind and humane feeling, on 
 your part, towards an unhappy sufferer — I am doing no 
 more than my duty in thus expressing* my warmest grati- 
 tude; but if, as I would fain persuade myself, there was 
 another, a secret motive for the tenderness and anxiety 
 with which you devoted yourself to soothe my sufferings 
 and aid my recovery, I would implore you not to be 
 kind by halves, but to finish the task you have begun, by 
 relieving my mind from its present insupportable anxiety. 
 If you are the person I suspect you to be, you will com- 
 prehend this, and devise some plan for satisfying the 
 ardent and irrepressible desire I feel to see you — to assure 
 you that I am and ever will be — I will say, your friend; 
 you will know how to substitute another, a more expres- 
 sive title — one which I will act up to in its fullest sense, 
 even to renouncing all other ties, if you should require 
 it. If you are not the person I suspect, you will not 
 hesitate, I am sure, to come openly and convince me that 
 I am mistaken, when I assure you that my peace of 
 mind, my perfect restoration to health depends upon 
 the elucidation of a mystery with which I cannot but 
 connect your image; and, in the mean time, I entreat 
 your acceptance of the enclosed, as a faint tribute of the 
 « gratitude I owe you.” 
 
 The praises Ned had bestowed on the good nurse, to 
 whose care he attributed the preservation of his master’s 
 life, had excited some curiosity to see and reward her, in 
 the minds both of Mr. Levison and his sister and daugh- 
 ter; but as the former had learned from Mr. Labroisiere, 
 the surgeon, that she still remained too unwell to resume 
 her duties, he had satisfied himself by putting into the 
 
272 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 surgeon’s hands, what he considered a handsome reward 
 for her services, and had thought no more about it; 
 while Denzil, judging that it would (if she really was his 
 mother) be her wish to conceal her present situation from 
 Mr. Levison, cautioned Ned to say nothing to any one 
 respecting Marguerite, which could excite any suspicion 
 of her being more than she pretended to be — a hired 
 attendant. 
 
 Rude and unpolished as this faithful servant was, in 
 his appearance and manners, he was not without consi- 
 derable acuteness and quickness of apprehension. The 
 delirious ravings of Denzil had convinced him that there 
 was a mystery connected with the birth of his master 
 that pressed heavily on his mind, and the eagerness with 
 which he questioned Ned respecting Marguerite — her 
 looks, her words, her every action, betrayed to him the 
 suspicions that had arisen in his master’s mind. 
 
 It was sufficient to Ned that he was enjoined to secrecy, 
 to induce him carefully to confine to his own bosom the 
 observations he had made, and the errand with which he 
 was entrusted; and in order that he might safely and 
 secretly convey the letter to Marguerite, he framed a 
 plan for his absence from iiis usual close attendance on 
 his master, who was still unable to rise from his couch 
 without assistance, and set out with pleased alertness to 
 find the spot which Marguerite had indicated as her 
 dwelling-place, leaving Jacques to supply the requisite 
 attendance in the sick chamber, where, however, the 
 almost constant presence of Mr. Levison or his sister, 
 left little necessity for the services of any one else. 
 
 During the temporary absence of his usual companions, 
 however, Denzil was left alone with .Tacques, who profited 
 
'rilE OIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 27 :^ 
 
 by the opportunity (the first, as he observed, he had 
 found) to assure his master that he had never lost sight 
 of the commission he had entrusted him with. 
 
 The important events which had since occurred, had 
 nearly banished from Denzil’s mind all recollection of 
 the nature of this commission; but the volubility of 
 Jacques did not leave him long- in doubt, as he proceeded 
 to relate at length the expedients he had adopted to dis- 
 cover the person about whom Monsieur had expressed 
 so much curiosity and interest. 
 
 Denzil, however, could not learn that his boasted 
 adroitness and perseverance had effected much towards 
 his object. He had once, it appeared, according to his 
 statement, actually fallen into company with the object of 
 his search, at a cabaret, where the latter, whom he 
 described as being under the influence of liquor, was 
 engaged in conversation with one of his countrymen, who, 
 as Jacques afterwards learned, was a servant of Mr. 
 Delaneys; but, whether Jacques himself had, as was 
 probably the case, partaken rather too largely of the 
 brandy and water, which he described as being freely 
 circulated among the company, or whether the man, 
 who was the subject of his observation, really sus- 
 pected him of sinister designs, it appeared that the latter 
 had contrived to elude his vigilance, and get off without 
 allowing him to learn any more respecting him than he 
 before knew. 
 
 “ I consoled myself, monsieur,” he continued, “ that, 
 having discovered the name and rank of his associate, 
 with whom he seemed on familiar terms, I should be able 
 to elicit from him the information I wanted — but, Mor- 
 hleu^ when, on the following day, I waited upon le 
 
274 < 
 
 THE (HPSY MOTHER. 
 
 gar^on^ at the hotel ot‘ Monsieur Delaney, the birds were 
 g-one — they had all quitted the city!” 
 
 “ The Delaneys are gone, then?” said Denzil, who 
 had hitherto heard nothing of his former friends, the very 
 mention of whose name, when it had once or twice acci- 
 dentally occurred, was sufficient to put Mr Levison into a 
 passion. 
 
 From Jacques, however, he now heard that the wound 
 Mr. Delaney had received, had been so slight as scarcelv 
 to confine him at all to the house; but that Miss Julia 
 had thought proper, as the heroine of this tragedy, to be 
 dangerously ill for more than a week. That the affair 
 having, however, become the subject of great notoriety, 
 and the real danger which Monsieur Montgomery was 
 known to be in, being talked of publicly. Monsieur Den- 
 nis Delaney had thought it prudent to withdraw from 
 Paris; and he had been rather abruptly and unexpectedly 
 followed by the rest of the family, who, after engaging a 
 splendid hotel for six months, had suddenly decamped, 
 leaving behind them (as Jacques significantly observed) 
 some substantial reasons for bemoaning their departure, 
 among those tradespeople whom they had honoured with 
 their commands. 
 
 A blush of shame, at the thought how intimately his 
 name had been connected with these accomplished swin- 
 dlers, crimsoned DenziFs cheek, as Jacques concluded his 
 detail; but he was prevented making any observations by 
 the entrance of Mr. Levison, and Jacques, not a little 
 pleased at having (as he supposed) so easily convinced his 
 master of his assiduity and attention, was soon after 
 dismissed. 
 
 From the period of his arrival, to the present moment, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 275 
 
 Mr. lievison, though scarcely able to bridle his natural 
 impatience, and curiosity to converse on the events which 
 had taken place since Denzil’s departure from England, 
 had been withheld, both by his own good sense and the 
 doctor’s representations, from introducing any subject 
 into conversation, which could have the effect of reviving 
 that mental excitement, which, as the latter observed, 
 had operated much more forcibly than even the severe 
 bodily wound he had received, in producing the disorder 
 to which Denzil had so nearly fallen a victim; but 
 Denzil’s bodily strength was now every hour increas- 
 ing, and though he was still melancholy, nay, sometimes 
 absolutely gloomy, Mr. Levison considered that his mind 
 had gained sufficient firmness to render it no longer 
 hazardous to speak of subjects in which they Avere 
 mutually interested. 
 
 After commenting, therefore, with evident pleasure, 
 upon his amended looks, he continued — 
 
 “ I little thought, my good lad, when I read your 
 letter, Avhich Dr. Labroisiere enclosed in his — not being 
 able, I suppose, to comprehend your direction that it was 
 only to be delivered in the event of your death ” 
 
 Denzil started — he had until that moment totally for- 
 gotten the letter he had written ; and, indeed, had he 
 before recollected it, he would have concluded that it was 
 in the possession of his servant, who, he thought, would 
 not venture to disobey his plain and positive injunction, 
 that it was not to be sent unless his death was the result 
 of the meeting which was then about to take place. 
 
 He uttered some expressions of surprise and regret 
 that this injunction had not been attended to, and Mr. 
 Levison proceeded — 
 
THE (IIPSY MOTHEIL 
 
 27'6 
 
 ‘‘ I do not ask of yon, Denzll, to explain the strange 
 and incoherent expressions you have used in that letter; 
 hut I wish to assure you, that had I long ago known in 
 what manner or how I could benelit the unhappy woman 
 you there speak of, I should have eagerly embraced it. 
 I know and feel that, in one instance, I judged her 
 wrongfully, and acted with a harshness that I have ever 
 since repented ; but she stood self-convicted of one 
 offence, and it was hut too natural that I should condemn 
 her for all that she was accused of. She had brought 
 indelible disgrace and infamy upon the name of Levison 
 — a name which, until it was unhappily conferred on her, 
 had never been associated with aught but what was 
 honourable, and ” 
 
 Denzil’s eyes, which had before been fixed on the 
 ground, seemed to dart lightning as he raised them. 
 
 Then she was married?’^ he exclaimed. “ Forgive 
 me, I ought not to rejoice, I know, hut I thought — I 
 feared ” 
 
 “ Married — undoubtedly, she was married. Had she 
 not been married, where would have been the crime, the 
 guilt, which has driven her from society, which has 
 
 made her an outcast — a beggar — a but forgive me, 
 
 my dear lad, I do not wish 1 Avould not, for the 
 
 world, wound those feelings of which, I much fear, she 
 is totally unworthy. I forgot that it was your mother 
 of whom I was speaking. Yes, yes, too surely she was 
 the wife of one who generously overlooked all her 
 deficiencies of birth and fortune, who raised her to rank 
 
 and affluence, to meet with Oh, heavens ! with what 
 
 a return? I shudder, even at this distance of time, to 
 contemplate the dreadful picture — yet I still do, from my 
 
THE gipsy mother. 
 
 S77 
 
 sou], believe that she was less guilty than she appeared — 
 than the world considered her ! But, enough of this — 
 we will not speak of what has passed — all I would say 
 is, that I would willingly unite with you in any plan 
 which could rescue her from want, from infamy — for 
 infamy must be her lot, so long as she continues to blend 
 her fate with the wretch whose horrible doctrines, and 
 whose total want of feeling or principle, first seduced 
 her into guilt, and who has only preserved his connexion 
 with her for the wretched purpose of profiting by 
 her » 
 
 “ Oh, heavens ! do not go on !” exclaimed Denzil, 
 with violent emotion, ‘‘ my heart recoils from the pic- 
 ture — I have tried to believe her more unfortunate than 
 guilty ! But I will save her ! yes, in spite of herself, I 
 will rescue her from his contaminating influence ! And 
 yet I know not, at this minute— but a short time may 
 perhaps reveal her to me — will induce her to acknow- 
 ledge herself to me, and then I will see if he dare inter- 
 pose his blighting, withering influence between a son and 
 his mother !’* 
 
 “ There is but one wa}^, Denzil, in which it strikes me 
 you will be likely to succeed in detaching them from each 
 other,” replied Mr. Levison, calmly; ‘‘ and that is, by 
 making it worth his while to give her up entirely. Ofler 
 him a sufficient provision, on condition of his resigning 
 her entirely to your care, and never again approaching 
 her, and ” ^ 
 
 Denzil half rose from the couch on which he was 
 seated, while his eyes darted fire at the suggestion — 
 
 “ Never ! never !” he exclaimed, “ sooner would I 
 send a bullet through his black — his base heart ! What, 
 
278 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 reward him for seducing my mother ? — for leading her 
 into infamy ? — No, no, I will try other means — she will 
 not, I am sure she will not, remain deaf to the voice of 
 reason and virtue ! She will not, dare not, resist the 
 entreaties of her son !” 
 
 He sank down, overpowered by the violent emotions 
 that shook his weak frame ; and Mr. Levison, in alarm, 
 and blaming his own imprudence, flew to the bell, 
 which instantly brought his sister and Fanny to his assist- 
 ance. 
 
 Denzil had not, however, as Mr. Levison supposed, 
 fainted — but his bodily strength was unequal to the 
 agitation of his spirits. At sight of Fanny, whose looks 
 bespoke unequivocally her terror, he made a strong efibrt 
 to recover himself, and so far succeeded as to draw from 
 aunt Rachel a reproof to her brother, for having so need- 
 lessly alarmed them. 
 
 “ Look at Fanny,” she observed, ‘‘ the poor girl is 
 ready to die with terror — I am sure she requires as much 
 care and attention as Denzil himself, and yet she is ever- 
 lastingly meeting with something or another to agitate 
 and terrify her. Only an hour or two ago, she was 
 frightened almost into convulsions by what a gipsy man, 
 whom we met in our walk, said to her, and now 
 
 Denzil started. 
 
 ‘‘ A gipsy man !” he repeated, darting a look of 
 earnest inquiry at Fanny. No answering look met 
 his eager gaze; but turning from his observation, she 
 laid her head on her aunt’s shoulder, and burst into tears. 
 
 “ What is the meaning of all this?” demanded Mr. 
 Levison, who seemed to have been struck dumb for a 
 time by his sister’s speech. “ Surely, my dear child,” he 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 279 
 
 added, in a gentler tone, and with evident trepidation, 
 ‘‘ surely you cannot be so weak as to suffer the jargon of 
 a vagabond, which has by chance, perhaps, happened to 
 
 accord in appearance with reality ” 
 
 Do not say any more about it, papa — I am weak, I 
 know I am weak, but it was the sudden alarm of Denzil’s 
 
 illness, combined with ” 
 
 With what?” said Mr. Levison, observing she hesi- 
 tated, “ with some predication of evil, I suppose, which 
 was only made, I will venture to say, in revenge either 
 for your seeming to despise his vocation, or from having 
 been less generous to him than the rascal expected.” 
 
 “No, no, no, indeed, papa,” returned Fanny, with 
 emphasis; “he was no common beggar, and he possessed 
 — I know not how acquired — such knowledge of past 
 events, that I could not help — but I will not talk of it, I 
 will not think of it, if possible!” — and for the first time 
 she raised her eyes to Denzil’s, but they were instantly 
 cast down, for they read there nothing but a confirmation 
 of misery and despair. 
 
 “ I do feel very unwell,” she whispered to her aunt, 
 “ and I will go to my own room, if you will go with me.” 
 
 “ My dear, dear child !” exclaimed her aunt, “ you trem- 
 ble like a leaf. Brother, for goodness’ sake, do not sit 
 there like a statue — but ring the bell for Lucy, to assist 
 this poor thing — for I am unable to support her.” 
 
 Mr. Levison had indeed sat as immoveable as a statue, 
 and as if totally abstracted from all that was passing 
 around him. Even his sister’s appeal was unheeded, 
 until he saw Fanny, who could no longer command 
 her overwrought feelings, sink lifeless from her aunt’s 
 feeble support. 
 
2H0 
 
 Tin: GIPSY -MOTHER. 
 
 “ Tho villain lias murdered my child !” ho exclaimed, 
 starting up as quickly as his infirmities would allow him, 
 and hastening to obey Miss Rachel’s command by ring- 
 ing the bell with such violence that the room was soon 
 filled with the anxious attendants of the house. 
 
 Fanny was conveyed to bed, and Mr. Levison, whose 
 terror for her had absorbed every other feeling, now 
 turned his attention to Denzil, who with acute but silent 
 agony had witnessed this scene. 
 
 “ What can be the meaning of this, Denzil?” he 
 observed; ‘M^y what exaggerated tale has that villain (for 
 that it was him, I have not the slightest doubt,) contrived 
 thus to harrow the feelings of my poor girl?” 
 
 “ Alas, it need not the aid of exaggeration,” returned 
 Denzil; ‘‘if he has told her the whole truth, it would 
 fully account for the effect it has had upon her sensitive 
 mind — coming, too, as I suppose it has, without the 
 slightest preparation or suspicion on her part. Would 
 to God that it had never been kept secret ! — and yet I 
 cannot but respect the motive.” 
 
 “ My motives have been good, Denzil,” returned Mr. 
 Levison, gravely, “ though I see and feel now that I 
 might have acted more wisely. It would have been 
 far better that I should, from the first, have avowed your 
 birth; but I feared that if she — if that man knew the 
 claims they had on you, they would have employed that 
 knowledge to your injury.” 
 
 Denzil made no reply — he was pondering in his mind 
 why the same motives did not operate to the concealment 
 of Fanny’s birth, and Mr. Levison proceeded, unheeded 
 and uninterrupted, to utter his regrets at the untoward 
 kite which seemed to pursue him, in thus always bringing 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 281 
 
 him within the influence of the wretch, who, like a malign 
 planet, seemed to rule his destiny, and the destinies of all 
 those who were dear to him. 
 
 Mr. Labroisiere, who had been summoned to attend 
 Fanny, now entered the room, to allay her father’s fears 
 respecting her, and to ascertain the situation of Denzil, 
 who, from the interest she had betrayed during the most 
 critical parts of his disorder, he concluded was likely to 
 feel a similar interest for her. 
 
 He first assured Mr. Levison that there was nothing 
 to apprehend from his daughter’s illness, which merely 
 arose from natural excitement, and which her own good 
 sense and naturally excellent constitution would soon, 
 with rest and quiet, effectually remove — 
 
 “ But it is a different case with you, my dear sir,” he 
 observed, after feeling Denzil’s pulse, ‘‘ and I really must 
 protest against this indulgence of feelings and passions, 
 which, operating on a frame so enervated as yours, will 
 prove highly dangerous. It is not my province,” he con- 
 tinued, addressing Mr. Levison, “ to inquire how far it 
 is necessary that Mr. Montgomery should be exposed tc 
 these violent agitations — but if it is possible, by anjr 
 means, to avoid them, I should strongly recommend it 
 In fact,” he added, in a lower tone, “ the consequences 
 
 will yet, in all probability, prove fatal to him, if ” 
 
 “ God forbid !” exclaimed Mr. Levison, with empha- 
 sis ; “ I hope and trust he will yet live many, many 
 happy years, and my poor girl, too.” 
 
 ‘‘ He must submit, then, to my restrictions,” observed 
 Mr. Labroisiere, ‘‘ and refrain from all conversation or 
 reminiscences, which can tend to disturb that serenity 
 which is absolutely essential to his recovery. Why do 
 
 2o 
 
282 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 you shake your head so mournfully, my dear sir ?” he 
 observed, addressing* Denzil, whose involuntary gesture 
 betrayed how little hope he entertained of being able to at- 
 tain the state of’ mind which the good doctor recommended. 
 “ It is impossible, as I before said, for me to judge precisely 
 of the causes that operate so unfriendly towards you — 
 but I should hope, with such friends around you, so 
 unaffectedly solicitous for your welfare — one, above all,” 
 he added, in a low voice, observing that Mr. Levison’s 
 attention was at the moment absorbed by some other 
 thought, “ who would scarcely suffer me to make the 
 necessary inquiries respecting her own disorder, so 
 anxious was she that you should have the benefit of my 
 
 attendance and advice — I should think, I say 7” 
 
 Forbear — pray forbear !” interrupted Denzil, in 
 
 agony; “ you are wounding me to the quick 1 dare 
 
 not think — I dare not indulge a thought Oh no — 
 
 better, far better would it be that my life should he the 
 sacrifice — that I should die, rather than ” 
 
 ‘‘Hush! hush! hush!” interrupted Mr. Labroisiere, 
 “ I must not suffer this — I will not speak another word 
 to you, my dear sir, hut I must see you instantly put to 
 bed, and you must take something to allay this irritation 
 and procure you repose. Shall I summon your servant 
 to assist you ?” 
 
 The recollection of the errand on which Ned had been 
 sent, had wholly escaped from the recollection of Denzil, 
 and the subject -was not likely to tranquillise his mind ; 
 yet he felt any certainty was preferable to suspense ; and 
 he therefore consented to follow the advice of the 
 doctor, in. order to get rid of him, and be enabled to see 
 Ned alone. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Every moment now seemed an hour to his impatience; 
 but at length he came, and his significant look told 
 Deiizil, even before he spoke, that his errand had not 
 been in vain. 
 
 “ She will come ! — Marget, that is to say, the — the 
 
 lady,” he added, after a moment’s hesitation, “ she 
 
 will come to you herself, if we can contrive to get my 
 old master out of the way, so that he won’t see her — I 
 know what she meant, though she didn’t exactly say so 
 to me — but you will see all about it in her letter. Poor 
 thing ! my very heart ached for her, while she was 
 Avriting it ! She looked so sorrowful, and the tears 
 dropped so fast on the paper, they blotted out the Avords 
 as fast as she wrote them ; then she is so poor, and it is 
 such a wretched place too ! And that old man — I don’t 
 know what he is to her, Avhether he’s a relation or not — 
 but she seems to be deadly afeard of him ! He came in, 
 just as I w'as coming aAvay, and he scowled at me outra- 
 geously. I don’t knoAv Avhat she said to him, for it was 
 all in French, though she’s no FrencliAvoman, by the by, 
 she oAvned that to me, Avhen she was talking about you ; 
 but I saAv her give him the money you sent, and that 
 made a wonderful alteration in his manners — for In; asked 
 me to sit down and take a glass of wine Avith him, and 
 seemed quite disappointed that I would not — but 1 knoAv 
 you would be quite nnpatient^ and so I hurried aw iy.” 
 
 During this tedious harangue, Ned had been fumbling 
 first in one pocket and then in the other, Avithout success, 
 for the letter, which Denzil was dying with impatience to 
 get into his possession. 
 
 From amidst a farrago of miscellaneous articles, of 
 which no one but the owner could possibly understand 
 
284 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 the use or value, Ned at length drew the important paper, 
 which his master received with trembling haste. So 
 violent, indeed, was Denzil’s agitation, that it was several 
 minutes before he could distinctly comprehend the few 
 hurried sentences it contained, and which were as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 “ Could I obey the dictates of my heart, I should at 
 once fly to you, and on my knees avow myself your mo- 
 ther — your unhappy, guilty mother ! But I dare not 
 
 risk the safety of another, and that other My son, 
 
 my dear son! in whose heart the feelings of nature plead 
 so strongly in favour of even a guilty, degraded parent — ^ 
 you will feel the full force of that tie which binds me to 
 the partner of my crimes and my sufferings ! I cannot 
 abandon him, even for you — and yet there are moments 
 when I shudder to think for what — for whom — I have 
 sacrificed the spring-time of my existence — have made 
 myself a wretched, degraded, forlorn outcast ! Oh, my 
 child, what did I feel when I beheld Mr. Levison, wear- 
 ing the very form and look, and speaking in the well-re- 
 membered tone but I dare not think of him — I dare 
 
 not recal the image of one whose generous confidence 
 deserved a different fate ! Oh, not for worlds would I 
 again suffer what I did those few short moments, when 
 Mr. Levison approached your bed ! Little did he dream 
 who the trembling wretch was, that shrank from his 
 sight, and whom temporary insensibility fortunately pre- 
 vented from betraying herself by falling on her knees 
 before him, Avith the full confession of her guilt and her 
 remorse ! Alas, the years that have passed since that 
 fatal event, seemed at that moment all effaced, and I 
 believed that I beheld before me But I Avill no 
 
THE CIIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 285 
 
 longer dwell on this dreadful theme — I will try to com- 
 pose myself, and reply to your letter. 
 
 ‘‘ You must be aware, my dear child, that I dare not 
 openly avow myself, without subjecting another to dan- 
 ger, perhaps to He has hitherto escaped the attempts 
 
 that have been made to ensnare him, and heaven forbid 
 that I should now, after all I have endured for his sake, 
 be the means of betraying him. Yet I long — oh how can 
 I express what my heart feels at the thought of enfolding 
 you to my bosom, of hearing you call me by that fond, 
 that sacred name, which has been so long denied me ! 
 My girl, too, my lovely girl — once only have I seen her 
 since her infancy, and then it was only a transient 
 glimpse, though I had watched for hours to obtain it ; 
 and does she, too, acknowledge her unhappy mother ? — 
 Ah, no — I have read your letter again and again, and the 
 name of your sister does not appear. Is it possible that 
 she is still kept in ignorance of her birth ? I am told that 
 she is by all believed to be the daughter of Mr. 
 Levison, while you are represented as the child of a 
 deceased friend — What can be his motive for this decep- 
 tion? Perhaps he thought there was less danger of 
 ray appealing to the sympathy of a son, than a daughter 
 — and he feared my contaminating influence ! Alas, alas, 
 he little knows my heart — but I ought not to question 
 his motives, for he has acted most nobly and generously, 
 though I fear imprudently, in keeping you in ignorance 
 of your real situation. Oh, how I trembled when I 
 heard your love for Miss Levison spoken of as no secret 
 to any one but him, to whom it ought to have been 
 known first — who ought to have guarded against it ! My 
 own guilt would have been increased a hundred-fold, if 
 
280 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 I had not — but you know I did point to the precipice on 
 
 wliich you were standing- Forgive me, I am still 
 
 wandering from that which ought now to occupy my sole 
 attention. Can you doubt my wish to see you, to hear 
 you express those feelings of affection and interest for my 
 unhappy fate? But I have heard you — oh, yes, when 
 you knew not that she was near, I have heard you call 
 upon your mother, your unfortunate mother, and entreat 
 her to seek an asylum with you, from the miseries and 
 disgrace she was enduring ! and they are miseries, heaven 
 knows ! But what am I to do ? I cannot leave him ! 
 Oh, no, how can I now desert him ! The infirmities of 
 old age, rendered worse by his habits of intemperance, 
 are rendering him every day less able to exert himself. 
 The world has deserted him, and could I now leave 
 him — a prey to poverty, remorse, — to all the evils which 
 must result from such a life as his has been? You 
 would not wish it, I am sure you would not !” 
 
 Denzil threw down the letter in a tumult of rage and 
 astonishment — 
 
 “And is it, then, to me she dares address this language?” 
 he exclaimed. “ Is it to a son, that a mother pleads for 
 the wretch who seduced her from the paths of virtue, 
 who has imprinted on her offspring the indelible marks 
 of infamy and shame? But I will see her — I will open 
 her eyes to the delusion that infatuates her — that induces 
 her to consider that as a duty which is adding every hour 
 to her crime.” 
 
 The excessive agitation and disappointment he felt, 
 prevented him, for many hours, from reading the re- 
 mainder of the letter, which, however, contained nothing' 
 more than an assurance that the writer would be most 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 28*7 
 
 happy and willing to see him, if she could do so without 
 danger of meeting with Mr. Levison, which, she ob- 
 served, she dreaded more than death ; “ though there is 
 little fear,” she added, ‘‘ that he would recognise, in my 
 now faded form, the once-admired Elinor Levison. 
 How many years,” she concluded, “ have elapsed since 1 
 wrote that name — a name which, until I bore it, was 
 honoured and respected.” 
 
 CHAPTER XHI. 
 
 O life, thou art a galling load, 
 
 A long, a rough, a weary road 
 To wretches such as I ! 
 
 Dim-backward as I cast my view. 
 
 What sick’ning scenes appear! 
 
 What sorrows yet may pierce me through. 
 Too justly may I fear. Burns. 
 
 Several days passed, without either Denzil or his sole 
 counsellor (Ned) being able to devise any means by which 
 the former could hope to be able to gratify his ardent 
 desire of seeing liis mother. 
 
 Fanny’s continued indisposition, which, however, was 
 evidently occasioned less by bodily than mental ailment, 
 kept Mr. Levison and his sister both prisoners to the 
 house; but, in the mean time, Denzil’s health and strength 
 were rapidly improving. His mother had, through Ned, 
 who saw her daily, given her solemn promise that she 
 would not quit Paris, or in any way withdraw herself 
 
288 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 from his knowledge, until the interview, which she 
 seemed to anticipate with as much anxiety as Denzil him- 
 self, should have taken place; and with this promise he 
 was obliged to be content, until he should be enabled to 
 leave the house, which he now flattered himself would be 
 much earlier than he had at first anticipated. 
 
 But, in the mean time, he found himself greatly embar- 
 rassed on a point which had hitherto claimed but little 
 attention from him. The frequent friendly demands of 
 the Delaneys on his purse, had made a considerable in- 
 road upon the sum appropriated to his first six months’ 
 expenditure, and his liberality to his mother in the first 
 instance had still farther impoverished him — but this was 
 not the worst. The sum he had sent, had, according to 
 Ned’s statement, done but little towards improving her 
 condition ; and Denzil felt wretched at the broad hints 
 which his plain straight-forward servant gave him, that 
 something effectual ought to be done to remove her from 
 the place and people with whom she was associated. 
 
 Ned read in his master’s countenance his perplexity, 
 though he did not exactly comprehend the cause of it. 
 
 ‘‘ I only speak, because I think it will grieve you to 
 see her in such a place,” he observed; ^‘but, however, I 
 won’t say any more about it — for you are the best judge, 
 to be sure, of what’s proper.” 
 
 ‘‘ I know what is proper, Ned,” returned his master ; 
 ‘‘but I cannot do impossibilities — the fact is, I have no 
 money.” 
 
 Ned opened his large grey eyes to their fullest extent 
 
 “ All that money gone !” he exclaimed ; “ Laukaday, ' 
 
 how those thieves must have robbed you ! But it’s no 
 use fretting about that — I think I know how you can get 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 289 
 
 as much as you want for the present ; and, indeed, Vve 
 got a little myself — if I should be mistaken. But Mr. 
 St. George, who has returned to Paris, since he heard 
 you were out of danger, has met me several times, and 
 desired me to say, if he could render you any service, he 
 should be glad of the opportunity.” 
 
 ‘‘ Mr. St. George,” repeated Denzil ; I should like to 
 see him — not that I mean to tax his friendship so far — 
 though I certainly do wish I could raise twenty or thirty 
 pounds, that I might not he reduced to the unpleasant 
 necessity of exposing to Mr. Levison my own folly, in 
 suffering myself to be defrauded to such an amount.’' 
 
 Ned hastily cpiitted the room, and in a few moments 
 returned with a leathern bag, from which he deliberately 
 counted twenty pounds upon the table. 
 
 “It is your own money, sir,” he observed; “or, at 
 least, Mr. Levison’s and yours, and that’s all the same — 
 and I hope you won’t scruple to use it, when you know 
 that you can give it me again, long before I shall want it. 
 And, even if you had no prospect of paying it, I am sure 
 I should be the most ungratefullest fellow living, if I 
 could keep a farthing of it, if you wanted it.” 
 
 Denzil at first shrank from the idea of borrowing of 
 his servant, but he considered that it was not to supply 
 the means of extravagance, and that he should soon have 
 it in his power not only to repay it, but to make Ned a 
 handsome compensation for the use of it, and he there- 
 fore frankly accepted the offer. 
 
 “ Now, then, Ned,” he observed, putting the purse in 
 which he had deposited it into his hands — '“you had better 
 lose no time in conveying this to her, and tell her it is my 
 request that she immediately leaves her present habita- 
 
 2 p 
 
290 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 tion, and get one suitable to her- ” be hesitated a mo- 
 ment, and then added, “ wishes.” 
 
 Ned shook his head. 
 
 ‘‘I don’t think that will do, neither,” he observed; 
 
 and, to tell you the truth, sir, I doubt if it is much use 
 to give her any money — for it seems very clear to me 
 that that old fellow, whom I don’t like at all, gets every 
 penny from her as soon as she has it, and the poor 
 thing is not one bit the better for it.” 
 
 Denzll gnashed his teeth with rage and vexation — 
 “ Strange, cursed infatuation !” he exclaimed ; “ and yet 
 she thinks she is doing her duty, in preferring to remain 
 with him.” 
 
 “ She is certainly very dutiful,” observed Ned, who 
 only comprehended a part of this speech, “ as the woman 
 of the house where she lodges said to me — ‘ A blessing 
 ought to fall upon her, if it was only for her dutiful atten- 
 tion to a bad father.’ ” 
 
 “ A father !” Denzil with difficulty suppressed the 
 
 execration which rose to his lips, at this misappropriation 
 (as he conceived) of the sacred title of father; but he 
 did not wish to raise the suspicions of his servant, and he 
 refrained from uttering the indignation he felt. 
 
 “ What is to be done then, Ned ?’ he demanded ; “ if 
 I could get out myself — but I should think that you could 
 
 yourself take a place for her, only you know so little 
 
 of the language, that it is very probable — ” 
 
 “ It will be but for two or three days longer,” in- 
 terrupted Ned ; “ for the doctor himself says you will be 
 able to go out in a week, and perhaps, after all, it will be 
 better that you should do it.” 
 
 Denzil was obliged to acquiesce in the propriety of 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 291 
 
 what lie saw no means ofaYoiding; but he resolved that 
 no fears of Mr. Levison’s conjectures or animadversions 
 should delay his interview with the object of his solici- 
 tude, an hour beyond the time when he should feel him- 
 self capable of bearing the motion of a carriage ; and he 
 therefore contented himself with deputing Ned to carry 
 her a small supply for present use. 
 
 At length the important day arrived — and Denzil, 
 having previously been out with Mr. Levison in the car^ 
 riage, for some miles, and returned with added strength 
 and spirits from the bracing elFects of the clear fresh air, 
 which had been so long denied him, despatched Ned for a 
 cabriolet, in which he was seated before Mr. Levison had 
 a suspicion of his intention of going out again. 
 
 Fanny, however, who had for the first time since her 
 recent illness dined en famille^ was standing at the win- 
 dow ; and her exclamation of surprise, at seeing him step 
 into the vehicle, induced the old gentleman to hobble into 
 the balcony. 
 
 “Where are you going, Denzil?” he exclaiuef], in 
 his usual authoritative tone, “ you must be out of your 
 mind, surely, to think of going out at this time of the 
 night ; and to answer no earthly purpose, that I can see.” 
 
 Probably not,” replied Denzil ; “ but I have a little 
 business to do, and I am very anxious to get over it — so, 
 adieu, for the present ! I shall not be long before I am 
 back again.” 
 
 Ned drove on, and Denzil threw himself back in the 
 corner of the vehicle, in a state of the greatest agitation — 
 for Fanny’s eager and anxious look had penetrated to his 
 heart. 
 
 “ Poor girl ! poor girl !” he exclaimed, “ little does 
 
I’HE iJlPSY MOTlimi. 
 
 rJ92 
 
 she think tliat the occasion of* my apparently foolish 
 excursion so nearly concerns herself!” 
 
 The carriage stopped at the door of one of those large 
 wretched habitations which crm only be found in the 
 sid^urbs of Paris. Capacious and substantial enough, in 
 its primitive erection, to have been the residence of 
 wealth and luxury; but appearing infinitely more gloomy 
 and wretched than a humbler dwelling, from its union 
 with poverty, dirt, and misery. 
 
 Denzil shuddered as he passed up the large and dark 
 stone staircase. Several heads were put out from the 
 innumerable doors which opened upon it, and he shud- 
 dered still more at the faces Avhich glanced upon him — all 
 seemingly in expectation that his visit was intended to 
 them ; but Ned still continued to ascend, and it Avas not 
 till they reached the last landing, that he pointed to a 
 door and whisper.ed — 
 
 “ That is her place.” 
 
 Denzil could scarcely speak, but he ordered Ned to 
 go down stairs, and wait for him ; and then, with a 
 trembling hand, knocked at the door. 
 
 A confused noise, which he had at first heard, ceased 
 for a moment, and a shrill voice cidled “ lEntrezr 
 
 Denzil lifted the latch, but he was about to retreat, 
 from the belief that Ned had mistaken the room; for, 
 instead of the deserted and gloomy place he had anticipated, 
 and instead of the mourning and solitary inhabitant he 
 expected to meet, he beheld a table covered with bottles 
 and glasses occupying nearly the whole of the middle of 
 the room, winch certainly, in every other respect, was 
 wretched and miserable enough. Around this table 
 were seated four or liv^e men, Avhose noisy conversation 
 
'I’HE (HPSY IMOTHEU. 
 
 2d:) 
 
 Dpnzil’s unexpected appearance^ seemed to have sus- 
 pended. ' A female, who was sitting on a low stool at the 
 fire-side, instantly started up — uttered a faint scream, 
 and flew to Denzil. It was his mother ! — but what a 
 place to meet her in ! 
 
 She understood the look he ca^t around him, and, quit- 
 ting' him for a few moments, she went to one of the men 
 whose face, as he reclined upon a bench, was turned from 
 the door. 
 
 With difficulty she made him understand the few 
 words which, in an agitated tone, she uttered. He made an 
 effort to rise, glanced round with a stupid, half-compre- 
 hending look at Denzil, and then, addressing his com- 
 panions as “ Bon garcons mes a7nis” he proposed that 
 they should adjourn to some place he mentioned, adding, 
 in what he intended a whisper, but which was sufficiently 
 audible for Denzil to hear, that his daughter had a visitor 
 of consequence. 
 
 The boil gargons arose, bowed with the greatest polite- 
 ness to the lady, and with a significant smile, for which 
 Denzil felt as if he could have felled them to the earth, 
 wished him a good evening. 
 
 Denzil was now left alone with his mother — but the 
 romantic feeling, the enthusiastic fervour, which had 
 warmed his heart towards her, had subsided. He had 
 believed her degraded and distressed — but he had fancied 
 her shrinking, even in her distress and degradation, from 
 the glaring face of day, — as hiding herself from the world 
 except when forced into it, but here — here he found her 
 witnessing, if not sharing in the noisy revels of her 
 debauched companion — unshrinkingly exposing herself 
 to the gaze of a set of wretches, whose very looks were 
 contamination. 
 
204 
 
 THE HI^^SY MO'rHEH. 
 
 For some moments both preserved silence — Denzil 
 glanced around the apartment, and then ventured to fix 
 his eyes on that countenance which he had so long, so 
 ardently wished to see. He beheld a woman scarcely 
 past the middle age, but faded evidently more by care 
 than time; her features were still eminently beautiful, and 
 her form still retained its symmetrical proportions ; but 
 her eyes were sunken — and though they now shone with 
 almost preternatural brightness, it was evidently under 
 the influence of extraordinary excitement — and it was 
 heightened, too, by the deep flush, which rendered the 
 rouge that loaded her cheek unnecessary and useless at 
 the present moment. 
 
 tier dress, though gaudy as to its general effect, was 
 composed of the most paltry materials; and her whole ap- 
 pearance was such as Denzil would, had he casually met 
 her in his walks, have turned from with pity and disgust, 
 under an impression that she was a victim and a votary 
 of vice and dissipation. 
 
 “You have come at an unfortunate moment,” she ob- 
 served in a trembling voice, “ my unhappy father ” 
 
 “Your father !” exclaimed Denzil, starting. 
 
 “Yes — that was my father,” she replied; “ did you 
 not recognise him ? But I do not wonder that you did 
 not — for he has been drinking incessantly, since he got 
 
 the money you sent, and it makes him ” She burst 
 
 into tears, unable to proceed. 
 
 “ There is one question — forgive me, if I solemnly im- 
 plore you to answer me with sincerity — Is that man your 
 father? — I mean, is your father the only companion you 
 have? — The — the person of whom you have all along 
 spoken — to whom you have alluded ” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 295 
 
 ‘‘ Certainly,” she exclaimed, with a look of extreme 
 surprise. ‘‘To whom — what did you think? Surely — 
 
 surely oh, my son, my child — did you, could you 
 
 think ” 
 
 She threw herself into his arms, in a transport of tears 
 and grief, and Denzil pressed her with fervour to his 
 bosom. 
 
 “ My mother, my dear mother !” he exclaimed. “ Oh, 
 what a load, what a burthen you have taken off my mind ! 
 I knew not that it was your father — your real father, who 
 was your companion, though I heard him speak of his 
 Elinor — of his daughter. But my senses were dulled by 
 a misapprehension that I now blush to recal to my mind 
 — Oh, no, let his faults be what they may, he is still your 
 father, and he must be provided for — his comforts must 
 be attended to. Heaven forbid that I should wish 
 to prevent your fulfilling so sacred a duty! Oh, my 
 mother, these are tears of joy, of pride, at finding that 
 your heart is so susceptible of that feeling of filial 
 duty ” 
 
 “ Which has been my ruin !” she exclaimed, with vehe- 
 mence; “yes, to him I may attribute my present condi- 
 tion — it is for him that I have become the wretch — the 
 miserable wretch you behold me! To his pernicious 
 councils are to be attributed all my faults, my errors, my 
 crimes! But for him I should now be innocent and happy, 
 and you would never have lived to blush for your mother ! 
 You start, my child — but if you have heard, as I imagine 
 you have, all the particulars of my unhappy history from 
 Mr. Levison, you must have heard that it was to that man 
 whom I unfortunately call my father — that it was to his 
 importunities, his cruelly exercised authority, that I 
 
296 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 yielded, when I became the wife of that generous, that 
 ill-requited man, whose honour and — whose life,” she 
 added, in a deep and hollow tone, “ were sacrificed — 
 cruelly, basely sacrificed ! Think, ray child, what must 
 be my feelings, to live in constant, in daily, nay, hourly 
 association with one whose hands are stained with the 
 blood of his friend — of his benefactor — of my husband ! ! ! 
 Yes, he was my husband — a kind, a generous, a devoted 
 husband, to the wretch who had deceived him, who had 
 given to his arms a ” 
 
 ‘‘ Of whom — of what do you speak ?” exclaimed 
 Denzll, in amazement. ‘‘ I know not to what you allude, 
 or what horrible mystery there is yet for me to learn ! 
 But there is one question which I am upon the rack to 
 have answered, though, without a farther explanation, I 
 shall be still deeper involved in the labyrinth of doubt 
 and mystery, which seems to envelope me still closer at 
 every step of this strange story.” 
 
 ‘‘ And what is that ?” she demanded, looking earnestly 
 at him. 
 
 Denzil hesitated. 
 
 “ You will remember that you told me,” he observed, 
 in a faltering voice, that I must regard the daughter of 
 him, whom I have ever looked upon as my father by 
 adoption, as my sister — and I have tried to believe you, 
 and to consider her as such ; yet, if she is his daughter, 
 who am I ? and for what reason am I considered and 
 treated as an alien ?” 
 
 ‘‘ She is not his daughter,” she replied. “ What have 
 been his motives for calling her such, I know not — but 
 she has no more claim upon him than you have. She is 
 your sister — born at the same time with you, and there- 
 
THE CHPSY MO'rHEll. 
 
 297 
 
 fore, if possible, more dearly and nearly connected with 
 von ” 
 
 Denzil started up, and traversed the room in an agony 
 which his mother coidd not misapprehend, and which 
 she feared to increase by any further observation. 
 
 “ But, if I understood you aright,” he observed, sud- 
 denly stopping* before her, “ Mr. Levison has no right 
 to the title of parent ” 
 
 “ Certainly not,” she replied, with firmness. “ Mr. 
 Levison has no claim upon you or your sister, but those 
 which his unexampled generosity and benevolence have 
 given him. You were left helpless, deserted, and dis- 
 graced by the errors of your unhappy mother, and the 
 cruelty of your father, to the misery of a merciless 
 world. Your mother he would have pursued even to 
 death — for he believed her guilty of a deed, at which her 
 nature shuddered — which she even now shudders to 
 recal to her memory ; but appearances were against me 
 — I felt they were strongly, dreadfully arrayed to con- 
 demn me — and I trembled to encounter the ordeal of an 
 appeal to justice. Alas, even now, even at this distance 
 of time, I am not safe, should he discover me ! He 
 believes me not only an adulteress, but a murderer. Oh, 
 my child, need I say to you that I never deserved the 
 last imputation? No, at that dreadful moment, when I 
 behehl my husband a lifeless corpse, and him — that man 
 — I will not call him my father — coolly, delibera,tely 
 
 viewing the horrid spectacle 1 was innocent of all 
 
 participation in the crime — except that of being a sense- 
 less beholder of the tragic scene !” 
 
 The truth instantly flashed upon Denzil’s mind — the 
 tale which he had heard so often alluded to, but never 
 
298 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 perfectly explained, respecting the shnt-np apartment at 
 the Hall, which the old servants avoided with such 
 mysterious shudderings, and the melancholy which had 
 often stolen over Mr. Levison’s features, when speaking 
 of the events which had occasioned his taking possession 
 of the seat of his ancestors, all rushed at once into his 
 memory. And it was the heroine of that tragic tale tht|t 
 now stood now before him ? — It was his mother — whom 
 he had heard the old housekeeper at the Hall once up- 
 braid with the epithets of an ungrateful murderer- — a 
 wretch, who had brought disgrace and dishonour on the 
 name of Levison, and who had completed the foul 
 catalogue of her crimes, by inhumanly assisting to mur- 
 der the generous man who had raised her from poverty 
 and obscurity to rank and affluence. 
 
 He had trembled at the time, at the energy with which 
 the old woman had denounced vengeance against the 
 unhappy object of her reprobation; but what were his 
 feelings now, when he recognised in this proscribed, 
 detested woman, the mother whom he had so often 
 delighted to image to himself, as all that was tender and 
 amiable — -the loss of whose maternal cares he had so 
 often mourned, and of whom he had so often sighed to 
 
 possess some, even the most trifling memorial ! A 
 
 long pause prevailed whilst these reflections passed across 
 his mind; and at length Elinor resumed — 
 
 ‘‘ And is it possible that, even now, you are so imper- 
 fectly acquainted with the circumstances of your birth, as 
 not to know that your mother was the wretched wife of 
 Augustus Levison, the elder brother of him to whom you 
 are indebted, not only for all the advantages you now 
 enjoy, but even for existence; for your mother left you 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 299 
 
 to perish! Yes, my son, I acknowledge — revolting as it 
 appears — I deserted my children — left them to the mercy 
 of that world, which has had no compassion on me ! But 
 think not I fled because I was conscious of the horrible 
 crime that was laid to my charge ! It was true I could 
 have cleared myself, by declaring the truth; but, in so 
 doing, I must have condemned my father — I could not 
 do this, and I fled I” 
 
 “ Then he was the murderer ?” exclaimed Denzil, 
 ‘‘ that man, at whose very voice my heart seemed to 
 revolt, he ” 
 
 “ Yes,” she replied, in a low and hurried tone, “ to 
 yon I dare acknowledge the truth — acknowledge what 
 tortures would not wring from me, were I not certain 
 that the horrible secret will not be used to his disadvan- 
 tage. My son, I dare trust you,” and she looked wildly 
 in his face. 
 
 “You may,” returned Denzil, with emphasis, “but I, 
 would first ask you — since you have led me to conclude 
 that I have no claims on Mr. Levison, but those his be- 
 nevolence have created, — to whom do I owe my birth ?” 
 
 She hid her face with her hands for some moments, 
 while sighs of the bitterest agony seemed to suffocate the 
 words she would have uttered. 
 
 “To answer your question,” she at length articulated, 
 “ it will be necessary that I retrace scenes and events, 
 which years of misery, of shame, and of suffering, have 
 not erased from my memory. Erased ! Alas, the remem- 
 brance of them is as vivid as though they had happened 
 but yesterday; but I will not protract that painful feeling 
 of suspense and expectation which is painted in your 
 countenance. 
 
300 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ At au early age I lost my only friend — my mother. 
 She was the gentlest, the meekest being that ever 
 breathed, and though my spirit sometimes, even when a 
 child, revolted against the tyranny of my fatlier, and the 
 blind implicit submission to his will which he exacted 
 from her, yet I unconsciously imbibed the same terror of 
 his frown — the same habit of implicit dependance upon 
 and obedience to his dictates, even though my feelings and 
 understanding would have led me to judge and to act 
 diiferently. Yet it was not by violence alone that he 
 established his empire (for so I may truly call it) over 
 me. With my mother, indeed, the bare indication of his 
 will was a law — but with me he would condescend to 
 employ argument and persuasion; and few, I believe, 
 ever possessed such powers of making ‘ the worse appear 
 the better cause,’ as he did. My mother’s death left me 
 still more dependant on him — still more exposed to the 
 inliuence of his vile sophistry, yet it did not corrupt my 
 heart, although it influenced my conduct. 
 
 I was not sixteen when I accompanied my father, 
 who went to join the regiment to which he had been 
 appointed in his medical capacity. It is now no vanity 
 in me to say, that at that period I possessed more than an 
 ordinary share of personal beauty. There are few 
 females, I believe, who are unconscious of their supe- 
 riority in this respect; but, had I been naturally free from 
 the common foible of my sex, my father would not have 
 suffered me to remain in ignorance of the advantages I 
 possessed. In fact it was evident, even to me, that I 
 owed all his kindness, ail the value I seemed to have in 
 his eyes, to this circumstance. ‘ A girl of sense and un- 
 derstanding, with beauty,’ he used to observe, ‘ has her 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 301 
 
 fortune in her own hands; and it is entirely her own 
 fault, if she does not make a proper use of what Nature 
 has so liberally endowed her with.’ But, though I was 
 thus taught that it was my duty to lay out my charms to 
 the best advantage, and, above all, to consider wealth 
 as the first and most important consideration in my 
 admirers, my heart and feelings had formed a very 
 different system, and I secretly determined that, to secure 
 my acceptance, something more than that which my 
 father recpiired, would be necessary. 
 
 “ My father’s free and convivial manners, and the fame 
 of his beautiful daughter, soon made our apartments the 
 rendezvous of all the gay and unthinking among the 
 officers who were his associates, and of these he secretly 
 pointed out to me more than one, as worth taking pains 
 to secure. 
 
 My heart, however, soon made its own election, 
 and fortunate did I then think it, that it was such a one 
 as he, whom I considered the arbiter of my destinies, 
 approved. I was then little more than sixteen — your 
 father was twenty-six — and, even at that early age, had 
 acquired the highest reputation for gallantry and skill in 
 his profession. He was of a noble family, too — the heir 
 of a peerage, and in the expectancy of an ample fortune ; 
 and when I add to this, that his person was strikingly 
 handsome, and his manners and accomplishments of the 
 most superior order, it will not appear surprising that I 
 should, from his first introduction, regard him with pecu- 
 liar favour. 
 
 Our first meeting was, indeed, decisive of my fate. 
 
 I had often heard of him — had heard traits of his gene- 
 rosity and feeling, and anecdotes of his bravery, in abun- 
 
302 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 dance, recited in the after-dinner conversations between 
 my father and his g-uests ; but I had heard, too, that he 
 was proud, or rather reserved in his communication with 
 his brother officers ; and that, though half the ladies, in 
 the place where we were quartered, were said to be 
 dying in love for him, and though he seemed to consider 
 women as entitled to the highest deference and attention, 
 yet his heart appeared insensible to the charms of beauty; 
 and if he ever shewed any particular devotion to one 
 more than the other, it was always to some female whose 
 age or other circumstances placed love totally out of the 
 question. 
 
 “ He had never been of our parties, and it so happened 
 that, for nearly three months, I had never had any nearer 
 view of him than when on horseback, surrounded with 
 those who were all proud of his friendship, and contend- 
 ing for his notice. I saw that his person fully but I 
 
 need not attempt to describe him, for in you I see him 
 again before me. Oh, yes, I knew I could not be mis- 
 taken when I first beheld you, walking down*St. James’s 
 Street, though I knew not then that you were in London. 
 You passed without noticing me — your eyes, your 
 thoughts were all absorbed by the beautiful girl who 
 hung on your arm — I did not then dream that she, too, 
 was mine — I thought that she was the honoured, h:ipi)y 
 object of your young affection ” 
 
 “ Pray- for mercy’s sake, forbear !” uttered Denzil, 
 
 in broken accents. 
 
 “ Well, then, my dear boy, I will proceed with my 
 sad story,” she replied* 
 
 “ My curiosity was raised, and, I confess, my pride in 
 some degree piqued by the cool indifference with which 
 
THE (iirsy MOTHER. 
 
 3{);5 
 
 his eyes passed over me, when, in consequence of some- 
 thing' that was said to him by one of his companions, he 
 once looked up to the window at which I was standing*. 
 
 “ It was the first time that I had ever met the look of 
 any man, whom I thought worth looking at, without 
 reading in his countenance admiration. I thought of that 
 cold, that almost contemptuous glance, for many hours 
 afterwards, and I turned, with disgust and aversion, from 
 the adulation of those from whom whom I was accus- 
 tomed to hear nothing else; and like a child, who 
 despises every toy presented to it, and persists in crying 
 for the moon, I could think of nothing but him, who was 
 to all appearances completely above my powers. 
 
 ‘‘ Some weeks passed away before I again saw him. 
 — A man belonging to the regiment had been killed by a 
 lamentable accident, and his wife, a young interesting 
 woman, with three infants, was in a state of the most 
 frantic grief and despair. 
 
 I had frequently noticed the children, and had made 
 them some trifling presents, and on hearing of the acci- 
 dent, I flew without delay to offer my assistance to the 
 poor creature, whom I found in a state of the deepest 
 despondency. 
 
 She had not shed a tear, but was sitting on the 
 g’round, by the side of the low bed on which the poor 
 fellow was laid, with her eyes fixed on her children; one 
 of which she held in her arms, while the other two were 
 playing around her, and trying in vain to arouse her at- 
 tention to them. 
 
 “ I took the baby, which one of the women present 
 whispered me she had before refused to part with, having- 
 grasped it with such violence that they were afraid of 
 
THE GIPSY MO'ITirJI. 
 
 ;j()i 
 
 iiijuriiig- it, it’ they persevered in their endeavours to 
 remove it. She looked at me, at first, as if she would 
 have resisted my taking- it, hut the next moment volun- 
 tarily yielded it. The other two, in the expectation of 
 receiving- my usual donation of cakes or fruit, had 
 crowded to me, at the moment I entered. I was unable 
 to controul my feelings at the look of woe which the 
 bereaved mother turned upon me, and I sat down and 
 wept over the poor orphans, without being able to utter 
 a word of consolation, though I had come purposely to 
 console. 
 
 ‘‘ I was still weeping, and inattentive to all that passed 
 around me, when I was suddenly aroused by the sound 
 of a sweet melodious voice, addressing the poor widow 
 — I raised my eyes, and beheld the very person who had 
 so long, so often, occupied my thoughts. I felt confused, 
 but his eyes no longer expressed coldness — he glanced 
 towards me, but it was only a momentary glance — I 
 should do him injustice to say that I believe he thought 
 of me for more than a moment — his thoughts and feelings 
 were all absorbed by the scene of woe before him. 
 
 “ He raised the poor woman from the ground, and that 
 which persuasion and force had vainly tried to effect, the 
 sound of his voice, or rather the habitual submission to 
 her husband’s commanding officer, effected in a minute. 
 
 She suffered him to lead her from the corpse, and seat 
 her in an outer room. I heard him gently employ erery 
 argument that feeling or Christian charij^y could suggest 
 to induce her, for the sake of her children and herself, 
 to remember the promise which had been given in that 
 Word which never fails: ‘1 will be a husband to the 
 widow, and a father to those who are fatherless. ’ 
 
THE CrlPSY MOTHER. 
 
 305 
 
 TliO poor woman burst into a flood of tears — they 
 were the first she had shed, and they were salutary. I had 
 not then known what anguish it is to be unable to shed 
 
 a tear, when the brain is burning but, to proceed : 
 
 1 heard him promise her, if she would try and com- 
 pose himself, and bear with fortitude the calamity she had 
 met with, he would be a friend to her, and a protector 
 of her children ; and he concluded by giving her, I could 
 hear, a substantial proof of the sincerity of his intentions. 
 The poor creature wept and promised, and thanked 
 him — and I, oh how I idolised him at that moment ! I 
 could have fallen at his feet, and worshipped him — so supe- 
 rior did he seem, in my eyes, to the thoughtless, unfeeling 
 beings v/ith whom I had been accustomed to associate. 
 
 ‘‘ I did not move, yet I trembled lest he should go 
 away without again entering the roOm in which I sat. 
 He said a few words to the women, who were officiously 
 displa 3 dng their zeal in the service of the distressed 
 widow, and I fancied that I heard him reward their 
 charity with more than words, before he entered the 
 chamber of death. 
 
 He made a respectful bow to me as he entered, and 
 then advancing to the bed, drew aside the sheet which 
 covered the face of the corpse, the manly features of 
 which had undergone no change from the violent end he 
 had met with. 
 
 ‘ Poor fellow,' he sighed, ‘ thy fate was sudden !' 
 He turned away, and I saw the tear which he vainly 
 struggled to repress, fall on the cheek of him whose 
 untimely fate he lamented. After standing a few minutes 
 at the window, evidently to regain his tranquillity, ho 
 
 turned to me with a melancholy smile 
 
 2 It 
 
S06 
 
 THE (HESY MOTJfER. 
 
 “ ‘ This is a melancholy sight, madam,’ he observed, 
 ‘ even to me, accustomed to scenes of death, in much 
 more awful forms ; but to one so young, so gay as you, 
 it must be particularly awful,’ 
 
 “ I tried to reply — I thought there was something in 
 the word gay^ which implied reproach, and I would fain 
 have replied — would lain have told him that, young and 
 gay as I was, my heart was never insensible to the 
 claims of humanity ; but my tears spoke more forcibly 
 than my words would have done, could I have found 
 
 utterance for them. Why should I dwell upon this 
 
 scene ? Alas, I have no longer a heart to feel — it has 
 become seared, callous ! What were the sorrows I have 
 described, to those which I have endured — endured, not 
 for weeks or months only, but for years — long, long 
 years — and none have pitied, none have compassionated 
 me. Even he — he who came thus beneficently to com- 
 fort the widow and her orphans — he who never relaxed 
 his benevolent exertions, until he saw her comfortably 
 and permanently provided for — he left me to despair and 
 
 misery, and but I will not do him injustice. He did 
 
 not leave me to suffer the bitter horrors of destitution, 
 poverty, and starvation, which I have known. No, for 
 that I have to thank him whose vices deprived his 
 wretched daughter even of that poor compensation for 
 shame and disgrace, which the liberality of her destroyer, 
 if not his love, induced him to bestow upon her. 
 
 Again I am wandering from my story. Frederic, 
 for so I soon learned to call him, by gentle violence 
 forced me from the cottage. The children were loud 
 in their lamentations at my leaving them. 
 
 “ ‘ She will soon come again, my fine fellow,’ he 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 807 
 
 observed, patting* the curly head of the oldest ‘ She 
 will come again to see you, and so will I — we will both 
 come.’ 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, how proud I felt at being associated with him, 
 and by himself, too, at this moment. 
 
 “We walked down the street together — I was trem- 
 bling and agitated, and with the most respectful tender- 
 ness he entreated me to accept the support of his arm. 
 It was the first time that I had ever felt bashful or con- 
 fused at such an offer — ^but I felt that I trembled still 
 more as I accepted it. 
 
 “ ‘ You will allow me to see you to your home, ma- 
 dam?’ he observed, in a soft tone. ‘We are, it is true, 
 strangers to each other; but, in such a case as the present, 
 you will, I hope, dispense with ceremony, and consider 
 me as a friend. 
 
 I bowed in silence. Can it be possible (I thought,) 
 that he does not know me? The idea was not very flat- 
 tering to my vanity, but I was soon destined to prove 
 its truth. 
 
 “ He was too full of the scene we had quitted, to enter 
 into conversation on indifferent subjects — but he talked to 
 me of the poor soldier, who had fought by his side in 
 more than one engagement, and whose bravery, as well 
 as his general conduct, he said, rendered him worthy of all 
 the regret which his untimely death had occasioned. 
 
 “ ‘Yes,’ he observed, in an animated tone, ‘he was 
 worthy even of the tears which you, madam, have shed 
 for him !’ 
 
 “ It was the first time he had uttered any thing like a 
 compliment to me, and I was still fluttering with the 
 feeling it created, so unlike the vain exultation with 
 
808 
 
 THE GIPSY xMOiHEU. 
 
 which 1 had often heard the adulation of my admirers, 
 when my father and a young officer came suddenly out 
 of a house, as we were passing. 
 
 ‘‘ My father started — but pleasure was evidently min- 
 gled with the surprise with which he beheld me thus 
 accompanied. 
 
 ‘ Elinor, my dear child,’ he exclaimed, in that tone of 
 kindness he so well could assume, ‘ where have you 
 been? But I need not ask the question — for I am well 
 aware, from your countenance, that you have been, as 
 usual, employed in the task of aiding the afflicted, and 
 
 that you have there met one ’ bowing to the Colonel, 
 
 my companion 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ I have taken the liberty of escorting Miss Tyrrell, 
 sir, though I knew not, until this moment, who the lady 
 was, whose kind and benevolent sympathy with the 
 distressed is so much to her honour,’ he replied, inter- 
 rupting my father in the compliment he was about to 
 utter, ‘ and I will now resign her to your care.’ 
 
 “ I was hurt, mortified, and I believe he saw it — for, 
 instead of leaving us, as his words indicated, he still lin- 
 gered by my side, though he had resigned my arm, 
 addressed some common-place observations to my father, 
 and had reached the threshold of our residence, before 
 they were concluded. 
 
 “ My father asked him to enter our house — he was 
 upon the point, I saw, of refusing; but he looked at me, 
 hesitated, and finally accepted the invitation. 
 
 I have been thus particular in describing the com* 
 mencement of our acquaintance, because I would wish to 
 convince you that it was no frivolous or disgraceful feel- 
 ing that first prompted my attachment to your father. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 809 
 
 From tills period lie was a constant visitor — I might 
 say, he lived with us — for, except when obliged to be 
 absent on business, he was never an hour from my 
 side. 
 
 “ I felt my heart and understanding improved by his 
 society — ray father was kind, his mode of life more 
 regular; we were free from those pecuniary embarrass- 
 ments which had frequently been a source of bitter mor- 
 tification to me, and I was, for the first time in my life, 
 perfectly happy. Alas, how short was that dream of 
 felicity ! 
 
 ‘‘ Frederic had never in words told me that he 
 loved me, but every look and action declared it ; 
 and the world, (my world, at least,) congratulated me 
 upon having secured so splendid and desirable a settle- 
 ment. 
 
 ‘‘ But the veil was speedily withdrawn — Frederic 
 absented himself the whole of one day — I was wretched, 
 and my father uneasy. He called at his lodgings, and 
 was told that he had received letters from England, and 
 was then busily engaged in writing, but that he would 
 be with us at breakfast next morning. He came, but 
 looking dreadfully ill and unhappy, which he accounted 
 for by saying* he had received unpleasant intelligence 
 from home, and had been up all night. I saw plainly 
 that his manners were changed — he was to me as gentle 
 and as tender as usual, but he avoided speaking or look- 
 ing at me, more than he could help; while to my father he 
 was strikingly cool and constrained ; and once I caught 
 his eye fixed on him, (my father,) when the latter was 
 speaking, with an expression of bitter contempt. 
 
 “ He sat for some time silent, after the breakfast-table 
 
310 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 had been removed, as if debating something in his mind ; 
 but at length he started up 
 
 “ ‘ Mr. Tyrrell,’ he exclaimed, ‘ I must speak with 
 you — I can bear this suspense no longer !’ 
 
 He was following my father into the next room, 
 without looking at me — but at the door he turned round, 
 and read the alarm and surprise forcibly painted in my 
 countenance. 
 
 “ He flew to me, and, seizing my hand, pressed it pas- 
 sionately to his lips. 
 
 ‘ Elinor,’ he observed, ‘ either I return to claim you 
 as mine, or you see me no more !’ 
 
 “ I could not utter a word, and he left the room. 
 
 More than two hours elapsed, in suspense. At first 
 I could hear their voices alternately raised, as if in alterca- 
 tion ; but at length they subsided into low murmuring 
 accents, and occasionally I almost doubted whether they 
 had not left the room, from the dead silence that seemed 
 to prevail. 
 
 At last, they came — hoth came. Oh, how tumul- 
 tuously my heart throbbed, as Frederic entered the 
 room. 
 
 “ ‘ Forgive me, Elinor,’ he observed, ‘ I have need- 
 lessly agitated and alarmed you — but all is explained, and 
 henceforth there will be no misunderstanding between 
 your father and me.’ 
 
 ‘‘ I thought there was something of bitterness in 
 the tone in which he pronounced this last sentence — 
 but the impression was speedily effaced. Frederic 
 became not only animated, but extravagantly gay — 
 
 I had never seen him so before, and it appeared un- 
 natural. 
 
'I'HE (ilPSY MOTHER. 
 
 81 ! 
 
 ‘‘ It was unnatural — it was a violent effort to drown 
 the sting-s of conscience. For the first time, Frederic 
 had engaged in a transaction which his heart revolted 
 from, and which he dared not reflect upon. 
 
 He said nothing in a direct manner respecting' that 
 union which he had before so strongly alluded to — yet 
 he talked of several things, which indicated that he 
 considered our fates as henceforth united ; and, among 
 the rest, of a tour which he and I were shortly to take, 
 and which he reckoned would occupy us for six or seven 
 weeks. 
 
 “ I could not comprehend all this, but I was satisfied — 
 He was to he my husband, and I had no thought or wish 
 beyond it. 
 
 “ It was nearly morning, when he left us — He apolo- 
 gised for having kept me up so late. 
 
 ^ But,’ he added, ‘ the time will, I trust, soon arrive, 
 when I shall have no more need of such apologies. You 
 will use your influence, Mr. Tyrrell, I trust, to induce 
 Elinor not to protract that period.’ 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ If Elinor will listen to my wishes ’ 
 
 Frederic darted out of the room before my father 
 could finish the sentence, and I was left wondering, and 
 divided between terror at his manner, and joy at the 
 prospect which seemed to present itself to me. 
 
 ‘You are surprised, Elinor,’ said my father, as soon 
 as we were alone; ‘ but I will now explain all that appears 
 mysterious to you — Frederic has received letters from 
 his relations in England, of which you are the subject. 
 Some of my good-natured friends,’ he continued, with a 
 bitter smile, ‘ have taken pains to represent me and you 
 in the blackest colours, and have required of him an 
 
THE GIPSY' MOTHER. 
 
 :n2 
 
 explanation of his intentions towards you. His father, 
 wlio is a man of sense, and knows the world, w'rites — 
 ‘ If the girl is your mistress, only say so at once, and I 
 Avill satisfy your mother and your uncle that there is 
 nothing to fear ; for of course I do not want to interfere 
 ill your petits amours — but, if you really are fool enough 
 to entertain the project of making her your wife, rely 
 upon it that my resentment will not he less durable or 
 effective than theirs, and you must consider yourself an 
 alien to your family — for never will I or they forgive 
 you — this I solemnly swear — and you know I will not 
 break my word. You may inherit the empty title, which 
 I cannot deprive you of — but not a farthing of the pro- 
 perty that should support it; and your uncle is equally 
 resolute on this point. So, take your choice between 
 beggary and seven thousand a-year, which is the least 
 you will lose.’ 
 
 “ I listened to this, (which he pretended to read from 
 a letter) with mingled agony and indignation. 
 
 ‘ And does he think, then, that I would consent?’ I 
 exclaimed 
 
 ‘ Stop — let us have no heroics, if you please,’ ob- 
 served my father, with that tone of voice and look which 
 was ever sufficient to awe me into silence and submission. 
 ^ Hear what we propose — and recollect, I will have no 
 false delicacy opposed to my wishes. It will be sufficient 
 for you to know that you are his wife, without assuming 
 the title, and exposing him to the resentment of his 
 
 friends. In a few days I shall accompany you to 
 
 The priest there, for a handsome compensation, will per- 
 form the marriage ceremony, which he will also keep 
 secret: and then let the world think what it will, until 
 
THE (tIPSY MOTHEK. 
 
 813 
 
 the time comes when he shall be able openly to avow his 
 alliance with you/ 
 
 ‘‘ I heard this proposition with bitter feelings of shame 
 and indignation. Shame for the father who could pro- 
 pose that his daughter should, even for an hour, much 
 less for years, perhaps for her life — consent to appear as 
 the degraded mistress of him she dare not claim as a 
 husband; but I felt still greater shame for Frederic, 
 whose proud spirit I could scarcely believe would ever 
 stoop to such baseness. But, as might be expected, my 
 father’s arguments and authority, and my love for 
 Frederic, prevailed over my scruples — the scheme was 
 carried into effect, and I was united to the man whom I 
 adored.” 
 
 Thank God !” exclaimed Denzil, with a rapture he 
 could not suppress, “ then I am not, after all, the child 
 of shame, nor need I blush for my mother !” 
 
 She shook her head mournfully, and proceeded — 
 
 “ I was so complete a novice as not to be aware that a 
 marriage ceremony, performed in private by a catholic 
 priest, was in fact no marriage ; and, satisfied that I was 
 really his wife, I became by degrees perfectly reconciled 
 to the deprivation of the title. 
 
 “ Before we returned, my father had taken a hand- 
 some house, for the expenses of which Frederic was 
 responsible — and thither he removed. I now fancied 
 myself happy, beyond the reach of fate — but I soon saw 
 that Frederic was not. His love for me seemed to suffer 
 no diminution — on the contrary, his tenderness appeared 
 to increase ; yet he was restless, uneasy, and at times 
 gloomy, to a degree that excited a- thousand vague fears 
 and terrors in my mind. 
 
314 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ Frequently I caught his eyes fixed upon me, with 
 an expression of melancholy and regret that I in vain 
 attempted to assign a motive for ; and once I recollect 
 being awakened from a peaceful sleep, by his warm tears 
 dropping on my face, as he watched over me. But too 
 soon was this explained — I was distracted at learning that 
 he had been appointed to the command of a regiment 
 destined for a distant service, and that it was absolutely 
 impossible for me to accompany him. At first, my 
 father appeared grieved and vexed, but he soon became 
 reconciled to the arrangement; and I was obliged to be 
 satisfied with the promise that I should join Frederic, as 
 soon as it were practicable. 
 
 “ I parted from him with tolerable fortitude, but I 
 saw, though he strove to appear calm and composed, that 
 he was in reality greatly agitated, Alas, little did I think 
 that he was then quitting me for ever ! — and that what I 
 considered the effects of his tenderness and love for me, 
 were the pangs of remorse and shame at having deceived 
 me ! 
 
 With him fled every vestige of happiness, or even 
 comfort. My father, who appeared by his presence only 
 to have been restrained in his former evil courses, 
 returned at once to his riotous and intemperate habits. 
 I had no female associates, for my apparent situation shut 
 me out from all, and our house was perfectly filled with 
 the most dissolute and profligate of the other sex. At 
 length I ventured to remonstrate — but my father treated 
 my observations with contempt, and sneered at my pru- 
 dish affectation — I hinted that my husband would not be 
 pleased, were he to know that I was thus exposed 
 to insults. Never shall I forget the sarcastic 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 315 
 
 sneer with which my father repeated the word ‘ hus- 
 band /’ 
 
 “ ‘ It is quite time to dismiss all that nonsense from 
 your mind, Elinor,’ he added; ‘you surely cannot have 
 been so foolish as to believe that you had any real claim 
 to the title of a wife — I mean, legal claim?’ 
 
 “ I cannot tell you what followed — I cannot pretend 
 
 to recollect or to describe the rage, the agony oh, 
 
 no. words cannot paint what I felt during the explanation 
 that followed — Yet it was not so much for my own 
 degradation and utter ruin I mourned, as for him who 
 had thus disgraced himself by stooping to such base arts 
 to lure me to destruction. It appeared from my father’s 
 confession that he had suggested the plan of the pretended 
 marriag’e, merely to save my scruples. He had no alter- 
 native, he said, between this and utter ruin — for he had 
 contracted obligations which he could not discharge, and 
 Frederic would have withdrawn his assistance, if he had 
 opposed the gratification of his love. This was false — I 
 know it was false — and I know, too, that Frederic 
 recoiled at first with terror from the base proposals of 
 my unnatural parent, who literally sold his child’s honour 
 for a sum which he dissipated at the gaming-table in a 
 few hours afterwards. I am well assured of this, for my 
 wretched father has since, in a moment of temporary re- 
 morse, unfolded the whole of the black, the revolting- 
 secret.” 
 
 A long pause ensued, during which the unfortunate 
 Elinor remained lost in gloomy meditation, apparently 
 recalling to her memory the feelings which, at the period 
 she alluded to, had agonised her — but she was awakened 
 to recollection of the present by the voice of Denzil, who 
 
316 
 
 THE CHi’SY -AlOTJlEK. 
 
 in the tenderest accents endeavoured to soothe and con- 
 sole her, and she proceeded. 
 
 “ A few weeks only had elapsed from the period 
 wliich consigned me to inevitable shame and misery, 
 ])etore my father was, in consequence of a transaction 
 which it will he useless to detail, dismissed from the situa- 
 tion he held, with ignominy and disgrace. A small sum 
 only remained out of all that the liberality of your father 
 had appropriated for me, hut which, with inexcusable 
 thoughtlessness, he had left completely in my father’s 
 power, and with this we retreated to England, where 
 only we could hope to remain unknown. 
 
 “ I knew not (for he seldom communicated any of his 
 plans to me) what were his real intentions, at the time 
 that accident threw us in the way of Mr. Levison, the 
 brother of your benefactor. The result of that occur- 
 rence you know — I became his wife — but you can never 
 know the wretchedness, the heart-rending pangs with 
 which I consented to this step. My feelings towards Mr. 
 Levison were at first only those of dislike and aversion; 
 but his excessive generosity and indulgence, and the 
 openness and integrity of his character, contrasted with 
 my father’s tyranny and total want of principle, enforced 
 my respect. I tried to shut my eyes fo the past, and 
 to look forward to the future, as oftering the prospect of 
 a life of comfort and respectability. I determined to 
 devote my whole cares to make the life of my husband 
 and those dependant on him, happy — but from this dream 
 I was fearfully awakened by discovering that I was in a 
 situation which would inevitably betray my previous dis- 
 honour. Had I consulted the dictates of my own heart, 
 I should have fled for ever from his presence, and have 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 317 
 
 avoided, at least, hearing' his reproaches; but my fatal 
 habit of dependance on and subjection to my father’s 
 councils kept me wavering, until it was too late. My 
 husband’s suspicions were awakened — he became gloomy 
 and estranged from me, though apparently unable or 
 unwilling to believe the full extent of his misfortune. 
 At last the storm burst, with all the vehemence and rage 
 that might have been expected, from one Avho thus sud- 
 denly found himself betrayed, where he had fixed his 
 ‘fondest hopes. He accused my father and me of tlie 
 deception we had practised — my father would have 
 attempted to soothe him — to have persuaded him of his 
 own innocence of having wilfully betrayed him into a 
 dishonourable alliance — he tried, too, to plead for me; — 
 to represent me as the victim of an unprincipled man, 
 who had taken advantage of my youth and inexperience 
 to betray me — but Mr. Levison’s violence, at finding that 
 that which he had still “ hoped against hope,” was con- 
 firmed bey ond a doubt, transported him beyond the bounds 
 of reason. 
 
 At the commencement of the conversation which led 
 to this disclosure, I fainted away — and I know not how 
 long I remained in this state of insensibility ; but when I 
 recovered, I was in my own room, and alone. I recalled 
 to my recollection with terror the scene I had quitted — 
 the rage of Mr. Levison, and the deep dark look which 
 had dwelt on my father’s brow, were still present to my 
 imagination — I trembled with agony, as I arose to listen 
 whether I could still hear the voice of the latter — but all 
 was silent, and I dreaded the shame of meeting the eyes 
 of any of the servants — all of whom, I conceived, were 
 by this time in possession of my secret. 
 
318 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ Uncl(3r this impression, I stole down the stairs, to the 
 door of the room in which my hither and Mr. Levison 
 were. All was silent — I tried to enter, but it was locked. 
 A vague and dreadful fear took possession of my mind — 
 I was about to scream for help, when a thought suddenly 
 darted into my mind that I could enter from the terrace, 
 through the windows which opened on to it. Thither I 
 dew, rather than ran, and entered to behold Mr. Levison 
 stretched on the ground, in the agonies of death. Seated 
 on a chair opposite, apparently stupefied, and irresolute 
 how to act, was my father. 
 
 ‘‘ The sight of me, and my breathless terror, seemed 
 to recal his senses. 
 
 ‘ Fool !’ he exclaimed, in a low agitated tone, ‘ what 
 are you come here for ? He is dying in a fit — but if 
 you are here, we shall both be ruined — destroyed ! Has 
 any one seen you ?’ ' 
 
 ‘‘ I shook my head wildly, for I could not utter a 
 word. 
 
 ‘ Go back, then, quickly ! for your life, go back ! 
 and do not stir till I come to you ! Hasten, if you do not 
 wish to destroy yourself and me !’ 
 
 I obeyed him — I know not why I obeyed him, or 
 how my trembling limbs supported me to my own 
 chamber ; but, when I reached it, I again for a time 
 found respite from misery in insensibility. 
 
 ‘‘ I did not, however, it appeared, escape wholly un- 
 seen. My own maid — a good, kind-hearted girl — had 
 seen me retreat from the room ; and that circumstance 
 gave colour to the suspicion which was soon raised, that 
 1 had been an accessary to, or a passive witness of the 
 dreadful deed that had been perpetrated. 
 
rrfE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 319 
 
 I will not dwell on the horrible scenes that followed. 
 Witl lin a few hours of Mr. Levison’s death, you and 
 your sister first saw the li^’ht. Until the moment I 
 beheld you, I had prayed incessantly to die — but now, 
 oil, hoAV" chang-ed were my feelings ! I felt that I could 
 have begged my bread with you — could have worked 
 with pleasure and delight to support you ! I had a con- 
 siderable sum, the gift of Mr. Levison, in my possession, 
 and I formed a thousand different schemes for my future 
 life, determining, as soon as ever I should be sufficiently 
 recovered, to leave the house and place I was in, and 
 seek some spot where my unhappy story could never be 
 known ; and where, in the love and respect of my chil- 
 dren, I should find a compensation for all the misery I 
 had suffered. But these visions were too soon banished 
 by the certainty of the dreadful fate that awaited me, and 
 which the pity and affection of the kind-hearted girl, 
 who had attended me with unexampled tenderness since 
 my confinement, had hitherto concealed from me. 
 
 The manner of Mr. Levison’s death had excited 
 suspicions in the minds of his domestics, that he had been 
 unfairly dealt with — my father saw the dangerous preci- 
 pice on which he stood, and fled, having first secured 
 every valuable that he could appropriate to himself. 
 From Ann, my attendant, I first learned that he was 
 now proscribed as a felon and a murderer ; and from her, 
 too, I learned the fatal truth, that I was included in the 
 horrible crimes that were laid to his charge, and that my 
 recovery was waited for with impatience, to consign me 
 to a prison. Oh, with what anguish did I discover that 
 even this good girl, sincerely attached as she was to me, 
 believed me guilty ! Yes, she who knew me best — who 
 
320 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 knew that I could not harm the Avorm that crawled 
 across my path — she believed that I had assisted at the 
 murder of one to whom I Avas hound by every tie of 
 esteem and gratitude ! Wliat, then, could I hope from 
 strangers ! 
 
 I heard that the brother of Mr. Levison had arrived 
 at the Hall ; and that his sorroAv for his brother’s un- 
 timely fate Avas only appeased by the hope of bringing 
 his murderers to justice. My father’s flight Avas an un- 
 deniable proof of his guilt — but Ann hinted to me that I 
 might save myself, by freely confessing all that I kneAv. 
 
 Can you doubt that this thought was even more hor- 
 rible than that of being myself condemned, for a crime of 
 Avhich I kneAv myself innocent ? It Avas in vain that Ann 
 insisted that it Avould not be me who would condemn him, 
 even if he Avere taken, as there Avas quite sufficient evi- 
 dence Avithout mine ; and that it was only to clear myself 
 she Avished me to acknoAvledge all I had seen or knoAvn 
 of that horrible transaction. In vain she assured me that 
 it Avas, she Avas convinced, the only Avay to make Mr. 
 Charles Levison my friend. I Avas resolute not to breathe 
 one word that could injure my father, and Ann Avas in 
 despair. At length she ventured to suggest the thought 
 of escape ! My father still eluded all the search that 
 Avas made for him, and it Avas concluded he had succeeded 
 in getting off to a foreign country — and Avhy could I not 
 hope to do so too ? Can you Avonder that, Avith such a 
 prospect before me, I caught eagerly at the idea of get- 
 ting away from those Avho Avould have consigned me to 
 shame and death? I did escape, thanks to my guardian 
 friend, the kind-hearted creature, Avhom I believed, too, 
 Avhen she asserted, that, in leaving my children to her 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHI-R. 
 
 321 
 
 care, I ran no risk of their being deserted ; for, if none 
 else would provide for them, she would — and her mar- 
 riage, which was on the point of taking place, would 
 enable her so to do. It was not possible for me to take 
 the children with me; for, independently of my being- inca- 
 pable, from weakness, of bearing the fatigue of two infants, 
 Ann very properly suggested that I should be imme- 
 diately traced, by the singular circumstance of travelling 
 with two babes, only a few weeks old. 
 
 “ For the present, therefore, I was obliged to relin- 
 quish you — but it was only for the present, as I believed; 
 for Ann engaged that the children should be conveyed 
 to me, whenever I was in a situation to receive them. 
 It will be too tedious to recount the particulars of my 
 escape — suffice it to say, that, at the expiration of three 
 days, I found myself in London; a place, to which I was 
 a total stranger, without a friend to advise or to direct 
 me!” 
 
 Overcome by the recollection of the desolate and 
 destitute condition in which she had been placed, at this 
 period of her history, the unfortunate Elinor paused for 
 a few moments, in intense agony, which was at length 
 relieved by a flood of tears, while Denzil, oppressed by 
 her many sorrows, became completely unmanned, and 
 wept and sobbed aloud. 
 
.322 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 If ever thou hast felt another’s pain. 
 
 If ever, when he sigh’d.^ hast sigh’d again, 
 
 If ever on thy eyelid stood the tear 
 
 That pity had engender’d, drop one here. — C owper. 
 
 In a short time, Elinor was sufficiently recovered to con- 
 tinue her narrative in the following* words: — 
 
 “ All that I felt or endured, the insults I met with, and 
 the suspicions that my appearance created, in my efforts 
 to procure a respectable asylum, I will pass over, and 
 proceed at once to the period when my evil destiny once 
 more threw me in the way of the author of all my 
 misery. 
 
 “ The fear which constantly accompanied me, lest I 
 should be retaken by the emissaries of Mr. Levison, kept 
 me in continual dread, and I seldom went over the 
 threshold of the little chamber I occupied, in a house 
 situated in an obscure street in the suburbs. I had cho- 
 sen this retreat, not only because it was quiet and 
 retired, but because the windows looked to the fields, 
 and commanded a view of Hampstead and Highgate hills, 
 and was therefore suitable to the character in which I 
 appeared — an invalid, seeking to re-establish my health; 
 but though I lived, as I considered, as economically as 
 possible, my funds were fast diminishing, and I became 
 incessantly occupied in devising some means of adding to 
 my resources. There were various kinds of ornamental 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 323 
 
 work, in which I was conscious of excelling many 
 specimens which I had seen offered for sale, at high 
 prices — and I thought, could I procure employment from 
 some of the shops which I had seen in London, I should 
 be enabled to support myself, and in time accomplish that 
 which was the constant subject of my thoughts and 
 wishes — ^namely, to have my children with me. I had, 
 previously to my quitting Levison Hall, written a long 
 explanatory letter to Mr. Levison, in which I detailed, 
 nearly as I have repeated to you, all the events of my 
 life, without, however, so completely exposing the con- 
 duct of my father as I have now done to you; and, 
 while I cautiously refrained from saying any thing that 
 could criminate him, as to the death of Mr. Levison, 1 
 solemnly protested my total innocence of the crime laid 
 to my charge, and implored his benevolence in favour of 
 my unfortunate children but, to return to my story. 
 
 “ In pursuance of my project, I ventured out, in the 
 dusk of the evening, to several shops of the description I 
 have mentioned; and, after many unsuccessful efforts, 
 at length found a purchaser for the few specimens of my 
 abilities which I carried with me, and an order for 
 more, though at a much lower rate than I had valued 
 them. It was the first moment since I parted with 
 Frederic, that I had felt any thing like hope or pleasure; 
 but I already saw, in perspective, all my plans realised — 
 my children smiling by my side, while I worked with 
 cheerfulness to maintain them. 
 
 “ In this course I proceeded uninterruptedly for three 
 or four months — the demand for my work increased, and 
 the prices given to me were raised. I worked night and 
 day, only going out to carry home the articles, and to 
 fetch materials. 
 
324 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ It was now the depth of winter, and in the dark 
 evenings I walked with confidence along the streets, 
 Avrapped in a large cloak, and my face nearly covered by 
 my bonnet' and large veil — but it was decreed that I should 
 be discovered ! My father’s eye had, it seems, been caught 
 by a pair of fire-screens of my painting, which were 
 exhibited in a shop-window in a fashionable street. They 
 were the counterparts of a pair which I had executed to 
 please Frederic, during the days of my happiness, and 
 were in a new and peculiar style. The more he looked 
 at them, the more he was convinced that no one but my- 
 self had been the artist He entered the shop to inquire, 
 and the description which the young woman behind the 
 counter gave of my person, confirmed his belief that he 
 had discovered me. He learned from her that she did 
 not know my residence, but that I should probably be 
 there that evening, and he accordingly took his station 
 opposite the house, at the hour I was expected. 
 
 “ Never shall I forget the horror that overcame me, 
 as he laid his hand upon my shoulder, and I heard his 
 Avell-known voice sound in my ear ! It seemed as if the 
 earth was opening to swallow me ! 
 
 “ He pretended to attribute my emotion to pleasure 
 at seeing him, and inquired into the particulars of my 
 departure from Cumberland, and what had occurred 
 
 there after he left but why should I be particular in 
 
 repeating what transpired, or the manner in which he 
 contrived again to unite my destiny with his. By 
 degrees, he resumed all his usual power and influence 
 over me — but my spirits sank—I no longer dared indulge 
 in the visions whicli had cheered my exertions. He 
 scoffed at my pinings after my children, and treated my 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 325 
 
 designs of reclaiming them from Ann as visionary and 
 chimerical; and I soon felt, too forcibly, that they were 
 likely to prove so — for his resources were nearly 
 exhausted before he met me, and I was now obliged to 
 supply his wants, as well as my own. The consequence 
 of constant and intense application, and entire confine- 
 ment from fresh air, or relaxation of any kind, together 
 with anxiety and distress of mind, at length produced a 
 nervous disorder, which totally incapacitated me from 
 holding the pencil, or, indeed, doing any thing that 
 required nicety of execution. 
 
 “ One by one, every article which would procure a 
 temporary supply, disappeared ; and at length we were 
 reduced to such extremity, that starvation actually stared 
 us in the face. My father’s temper was not improved 
 by our circumstances — but I soon began to have more 
 serious disquietude on his account, than that which arose 
 from his imperiousness and his repinings. He returned 
 home one evening, after having been absent all day, in a 
 state of intoxication, but, contrary to his custom, very 
 good-humoured. 
 
 “ I had eaten nothing all day, for" I was as yet unac- 
 quainted with the mode by which he transformed all our 
 moveables, clothes, &c. into money. To my surprise, 
 however, he produced plenty of money, though he had 
 gone out penniless ; and, after desiring me to get some- 
 thing good for supper, he added, 
 
 “ ‘ You must get up pretty early to-morrow, my girl, 
 and have breakfast ready by eight o’clock, for two or 
 three friends of mine !’ 
 
 ‘‘ I was astonished — but I dared not hazard the loss of 
 his good humour by asking questions, and I did as ho 
 had directed me. 
 
836 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 “ The friends came — they were three men of a certain 
 sort of appearance, usually styled shabby genteel — one of 
 them was a fine-looking young man, but with a peculiarly 
 unpleasant expression of countenance ; and, accustomed 
 as I had been to the unqualified gaze of admiration from 
 the male sex, my eyes involuntarily sank, and my cheeks 
 crimsoned, at the boldness and licentiousness of his per- 
 tinacious stare. 
 
 “ My father gave him a hint that I had lately been 
 much secluded from company, and was bashful and timid, 
 to which he replied by asserting, with an oath, that it was 
 a shame such a fine girl should be kept shut up by her- 
 self, adding, with a slap on the shoulder, which made my 
 father start, ‘ But we will bring her out, and show her a 
 bit o’ life, old boy — and, by way of beginning, I move 
 that we all go to the play to-night ! I’ve got a box order 
 for two, and she and I can go with it, while you three 
 may go into the gallery, if you don’t like to pay six shill- 
 ings a-piece to go with us ; or you can stay at home and 
 enjoy yourselves, if you like it better, and come to us at 
 half-price ; or you may wait till we come back, which- 
 ever you like best.’ 
 
 1 was going to put a decided negative on this pro- 
 posal — but my father’s looks restrained me ; and I only 
 uttered a faint assurance that I had no wish to go to any 
 place of public entertainment, nor any spirits to enjoy 
 amusement. 
 
 “ ^ Oh, we’ll soon give you spirits, my little angel,’ 
 he replied, with disgusting familiarity. ‘ I’ll be bound to 
 say, before you and I have been many weeks acquainted, 
 you’ll be quite a different thing to what you now are.’ 
 
 “ But I will spare you and myself the repetition of 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 327 
 
 the scenes to which I was now introduced. From this 
 period, my father and these men became inseparable. 
 One of them, I found, he had known for some years ; 
 but the others were strang’ers. Alas, the purest morals 
 and manners must insensibly yield to the contagion 
 engendered by constant association with those of opposite 
 principles and conduct ; but my naturally good feelings 
 had never been cultivated or encouraged; on the con- 
 trary, every thing had combined to render me accessible 
 to the assaults which were now made upon those right 
 principles and feelings which still, at times, exerted their 
 sway over my mind. In short, I fell lower than I had 
 ever before fallen — and, in spite of the disgust I often 
 felt at his manners — in spite of my suspicions, nay, my 
 certainty, that his pursuits were of the most disgraceful 
 nature, and that I was only plunging myself still deeper 
 into difficulty and distress, by such an alliance — I became 
 the wife of Edwards, the young man I have spoken of. 
 But I married him under no deceptive ideas — he knew 
 my whole history — too well he knew it ! 
 
 “ I will briefly pass over the first two years of onr 
 marriage — it was, as might be expected, a scene of alter- 
 nate misery and dissipation ; and when the first impulse 
 of passion, which had prompted him to marry me, had 
 subsided, the conduct of Edwards was such as was little 
 likely to secure either my respect or esteem. If he had 
 money, he was good-humoured and fond ; but when, as 
 was often the case, his resources were exhausted, I was 
 doomed to bear all his spleen and bad temper. But this 
 was not the worst — he became as violently attached to 
 another female, as he had (before our marriage) been to 
 me ; and I could plainly see that, from this period, though 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEK. 
 
 :528 
 
 1 liad now two children by him, his whole thoughts were 
 bent on getting rid of me. My life was now dreadful — 
 every brutality that a disposition naturally ferocious 
 could practise, was exercised towards me. Even my 
 children seemed to be regarded by this savage with aver- 
 sion — but, happily, (I now say, happily) that cause of 
 discontent was soon removed ; for, within a week, I fol- 
 lowed them both to the grave. 
 
 ‘‘ I will not pretend that I did not lament them ; on 
 the contrary, my grief was, for a time, too violent to 
 admit of consolation. This increased my husband’s dis- 
 taste towards me; and 1 was completely weary of my 
 life, when an incident occurred which parted us for 
 ever, 
 
 “ I was closing the shutters of our small dwelling, 
 when a man, who had stood for some moments watching 
 me, approached, and in a low voice, accosted me as 
 ‘ Mrs. Levison.’ I started in terror — but replied, that 
 that was not my name. 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ It was the name you bore, when I knew you in 
 Cumberland,’ he replied. 
 
 “ I again, but in a faltering voice, replied, that he was 
 mistaken — I did not know the name. 
 
 “ ‘ And will you tell me, too, that I am mistaken in 
 saying that I saw your father, Mr. Tyrrell, no longer 
 ago than yesterday, enter this house?’ he observed. 
 
 Well, Avell, it’s no matter!’ — and he walked away, 
 without waiting for my answer. 
 
 ‘‘ In a few minutes afterwards, my father entered — 
 
 I told him what had occurred, and he sat for some 
 minutes apparently lost in apprehension and alarm. 
 
 “ ‘ We must get away from here, directly, Elinor,’ 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER* 
 
 329 
 
 he at length observed; Hhe blood-hounds have traced us, 
 and, if we linger, we are both lost.^ 
 
 ‘‘ I was ready to fly to the extreme ends of the earth, 
 under the impressions of terror I then suffered — but I 
 recollected my husband. 
 
 “ ‘ Edwards will be here directly,’ I observed. 
 
 « c We must not trust him,’ he replied; ‘ I have rea- 
 son to think it is he who has betrayed us — I know that 
 he would sell his soul to the devil, to accomplish his 
 purpose.’ 
 
 “ I was horror-struck at the idea — but I hastened, 
 according to my father’s directions, to pack up every 
 thing I possessed that was of any value; and once more 
 I placed myself at my father’s disposal. 
 
 He conducted me to a remote quarter of the town — 
 to a house which, he said, was kept by a man whom he 
 could trust; but I shrank with horror, (accustomed, as I 
 had lately been, to low and disgraceful society,) from the 
 wretches with whom I was now associated. 
 
 ‘‘ Five weeks did I pass in this den of infamy and 
 crime — and then was driven from it, because our means 
 were exhausted; for my father had lived away — drown- 
 ing his fears, as he said, in riot and intemperance, until 
 all that I had brought with me was gone. 
 
 “ We were now literally without home or refuge. I 
 dared not go back to my husband, lest he should betray 
 me to the hands of justice ; and, at length, driven from 
 one expedient to another to support nature, I yielded to 
 my father’s proposal to join with some of the wretches 
 with whom we had been living in Whitechapel, and 
 accompany them in their intended expedition through 
 different parts of England, under the assumed denomi- 
 
 2 u 
 
330 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 nation of gipsies, though the greater part of them had 
 no other title to this name than that which they derived 
 from adopting the same lawless habits and roving sort of 
 life. 
 
 “ I had now dismissed all lingering remains of pride, 
 and stifled every other feeling but a desire to enjoy life 
 on as easy terms as I could; and, except the strong 
 natural affection which I still retained towards my chil- 
 dren, I possessed no vestiges of what I had once been. 
 My parental feelings, however, still survived, and when, 
 in the course of their wanderings, the tribe, with which 
 I was now completely identified, entered Cumberland, I 
 resolved, at all risks, to make an attempt to see them. 
 
 “ The disguise, which I had learned from my associates 
 to assume, prevented my having any fear of being known; 
 but, indeed, even without disguising myself, I was so 
 altered by sorrow, care, and the irregularity of my life, 
 that I felt there was little probability of any person’s 
 recognising, in the miserable gipsy mendicant, the once 
 envied and admired mistress of Levison Hall. 
 
 “ Oh, with what feelings of agony and remorse did I 
 enter upon that well-known domain. The character I 
 had assumed, gave me easy access to some of the inferior 
 servants, whom I astonished by my accm'ate knowledge 
 of past events, and gratified with my predictions for the 
 future; and, in return, easily drew from them all the 
 information I wanted respecting my children. . 
 
 “ My dear son, you recollect, you must recollect, the 
 unhappy being who terrified you by the extravagance of 
 her fondness ” 
 
 “ I do recollect it,” said Denzil; young as I was at 
 the time, I can now remember the strong impression 
 
-IP lire (G-IFSX ELlIJTOJfip ^ JODI m 
 
 Cr-.!i-. luv ii.xiul kyim shall i-movt 
 
 .1,1:, ■ V-.T-I. il' I IIAIifP , I 'N at'.' 
 
 j ■“ii-TJJ'.rt .a,-. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 331 
 
 your tears and caresses made upon my mind, though, 
 until the present moment, it had faded from my memory, 
 or, at least, had left only that indistinct recollection that 
 one sometimes feels on awaking from a confused dream.” 
 
 “ My second parting with you,” she resumed, “ was 
 infinitely more painful and distressing than the first — for 
 when I originally quitted Levison Hall, fears for myself, 
 terror lest I should be discovered, and hope that, if I did 
 escape the present danger, I might, at no very distant 
 period, be enabled to reclaim you — divided my feelings ; 
 but now I looked upon you with the dreadful certainty 
 that never should I dare to call myself your mother ! I 
 might, indeed, have taken you both with me — you were 
 wholly in my power — and the wretches, with whom I 
 was associated, would, I knew, have gladly received you — 
 for children were no burthens to them: on the contrary, 
 they were a source of considerable profit, But I could 
 not be such a wretch, as to withdraw you from the 
 benevolence of such a protector, to introduce you to a 
 life of profligacy and shame; and I stifled the thought 
 which suggested itself, as I held you both pressed to my 
 bosom. 
 
 ‘‘ I saw you safe again under the protection of your 
 friend Ann. Oh, how I longed to thank her, to bless 
 her, for having so truly performed her promises to me, 
 of watching over your welfare; but I feared to trust her 
 prudence, and I quitted the place, only rendered more 
 wretched from this short indulgence of my natural feel- 
 ings and affections — an indulgence which I could never 
 again hope to enjoy. 
 
 “ From this period I continued, for several years, 
 to lead the same wandering, unsettled course of life — 
 
3S2 
 
 'J’lli: Gll’SY BlO'I'llKU. 
 
 suffering', at times, tlie utmost extremes of miser v? and 
 at others— but all was misery! Yes, even the mirth, the 
 revelry of which I partook, was misery ! I will not at- 
 tempt to describe to you the scenes of which I have been 
 a witness, or the crimes of which I have been an unwil- 
 ling partaker! You start! — Yes, my child, it is too true 
 — my youth, my still-remaining beauty, and the supe- 
 riority of my manners, made me a treasure to the gang, 
 and I could not free myself from them, without bringing 
 destruction on my father — but I will proceed to the 
 period when circumstances occurred which induced me 
 to quit England — alas, only to encounter fresh miseries! 
 and deprived, too, of my last hope and consolation — the 
 hope of some day revisiting the spot which contained my 
 children, the only tie that seemed to unite me to the 
 world. The thought that I might be enabled to see you, 
 if it were only at a distance — to hover around you, and 
 behold you happy — happy, in ignorance of your mother’s 
 fate, was torn from me, when I landed on a foreign shore ! 
 How little did I then foresee — but I will not anticipate ; 
 
 I will proceed regularly — as regularly as my poor shat- 
 tered brain will let me. 
 
 “We were at Worcester races — a place which was 
 generally the source of considerable gains to us ; but, this 
 year, fate seemed against us. Not one of our party was even 
 moderately successful ; and, on the last evening, we were 
 nearly all assembled at our rendezvous on the borders of 
 the race-ground — the men swearing at their ill-luck — 
 and the women relating to each other the various attempts 
 in which they had been foiled by some unlucky incident, 
 or intervention, when we were joined by one of the 
 tribe, who had remained on the race-ground after the 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 :i33 
 
 rest. He came in haste to tell them that he had just 
 seen the farmer, in whose barn we had slept the two or 
 three preceding- nights, receive a large sum of money, for 
 a horse which he had ridden thither, and that he was 
 now drinking in a booth on the ground. 
 
 “ ^ And how does he propose going home ?’ was the 
 hurried inquiry, from several of the men at once. 
 
 “ ‘ A coach passes the end of the lane that leads 
 up to his house,’ was the reply ; ‘ he will go by that.’ 
 
 “ ‘ Yes, but the lane is three quarters of a mile long 
 — It is close and dark, too, and it would not be hard for 
 some of us to reach it, before him — for the coach does 
 not pass by until twelve o’clock at night.’ 
 
 ‘‘ I listened to this consultation with horror — the 
 farmer’s wife had, only a few days before, given me food 
 and clothing — she had treated me with particular kind- 
 ness, and I had nursed and caressed her smiling children, 
 and wept over them, as I thought of my own; and 
 could I, then, deliberately hear a plan discussed, which, 
 if carried into effect, would rob those innocents of their 
 support — would make that happy wife a wretched widow, 
 and her children destitute orphans ! Yes — you shudder 
 — but it was nothing less than the murder of this man 
 they contemplated ! They were aware that he was a 
 powerful, resolute man, and that he would not be likely 
 to yield his money, without resistance ; they were aware, 
 too, that, if they stood to parley with him, the chances 
 were greatly in favour of his recognising the men whom 
 his charity had sheltered and assisted. Their own safety, 
 therefore, required that his life should be sacrificed — and 
 my blood chilled in my veins as I heard them systemati- 
 cally arranging the mode they should pursue. 
 
334 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 AccLisiomed, however, to every species of rlissimula- 
 tion, I counterfeited the most perfect indifference to all 
 I heard. My father, who would probably, (from his well- 
 tried recklessness and contempt of danger, when opposed 
 to interest,) have been fixed upon as one of the party, 
 was fortunately disabled by an accident, which had injured 
 one of his arms — he was not even present when the plan 
 was formed ; hut, as I understood, had been left as a spy 
 upon the farmer in the drinking-booth. 
 
 I saw the four men depart on their murderous errand 
 — the rest of the gang separated on different projects, 
 and I was left, half stupefied with horror and remorse. 
 It was yet in my power to prevent this horrible crime — 
 a few words from me might open the poor man’s eyes to 
 the fate that awaited him ; but how to accomplish it, I 
 knew not, without exposing myself to the resentment of 
 the gang, and I knew that they never pardoned treachery! 
 — 1 knew my life would, sooner or later, be forfeited to 
 their revenge ! Even could I escape from my immediate 
 associates, such were their means of communication with 
 the numerous hordes that are scattered over the country 
 — such the ties that bind them to each other’s interests — 
 that I was fully aware that I could not escape their 
 vengeance, should they discover that I had betrayed 
 them. 
 
 ‘‘ Irresolute and wretched, I wandered to the race- 
 ground, and at length found out the booth in which my 
 father and the farmer were seated together, at a table, 
 and both rather intoxicated. 
 
 ‘ Here comes my little black-eyed Susan !’ observed 
 the farmer, in a jocular tone. ‘ Well, my girl, what suc- 
 cess hast thou had ? How many foolish girls hast sent 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 335 
 
 home to dream of coaches-and-six, and handsome husbands, 
 and troops of little ones as handsome as themselves? — But 
 why doesn’t rather think of looking out for a husband thy- 
 self? Thour’t a neat, tidy, smart wench, and deservest to 
 be better off, than strolling about in this vagabond way. I 
 think thee’dst make a good wife, and I wish I could help 
 thee to a good husband. Nay, never look dull, wench ! 
 thee does’nt know what good may be in store for thee yet 
 — for thee caii’st not tell thine own fortune, though thou 
 pretend’ st to tell the fortunes of other people.’ 
 
 ‘ I wish you would let me tell yours, sir,’ I replied, 
 taking the jug of beer that he offered, and without daring 
 to look at my father, who sat at the opposite side of the 
 table. 
 
 “ The farmer laughed — ‘ No, no, my girl,’ he replied, 
 
 ‘ that will never do — you can’t catch old birds with chaff' ! 
 I am rather past that — my fortune’s hard work and little 
 profit, I can tell thee that. But come, I tell thee what 
 thee shalt do, instead — thou shalt sing me one of thy 
 best songs, and we will have another jug of beer — there 
 will be time enough for that, before I start.’ 
 
 I sat down, the beer passed quickly round, and the 
 farmer seemed unwilling to move. I saw plainly that my 
 father was not aware of the plan that had been agreed 
 upon by his confederates ; and, instead of urging the far- 
 mer to go, he considered he was acting for the best, in 
 endeavouring to detain him. 
 
 “ The thought struck me, that, if the latter could be 
 Induced to remain until the coach had started, he would, 
 in all probability, continue in the town during the night, 
 and thus the murderous scheme would be effectually dis- 
 concerted. 
 
336 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 I therefore readily adopted my father’s hints, and 
 sang- song- after song, while the booth became crowded 
 with company, who rewarded my exertions with a shower 
 of half-pence, from time to time ; while my father, as 
 soon as his connexion with me was known, was so plen- 
 tifully supplied with ale, that at length the vigilant watch 
 he had kept upon the farmer relaxed, and he fell fast 
 asleep. 
 
 “ I still, however, kept my eye upon the object of my 
 anxiety, who had completely forgotten the necessity for 
 his leaving — but at length he remembered himself^ and, 
 starting up, drew out his watch. 
 
 “ ‘ Wouns, I shall be too late for the coach !’ he 
 exclaimed. ‘ There, my girl, there’s a shilling for thee 
 — may it be lucky — for I think thou saidst thou hadn’t 
 seen the colour of silver to-day.’ 
 
 “ I forgot even to thank him, as I inquired how he 
 would get home, if the coach were gone ? 
 
 ‘ How !’ he .repeated, Avith a look of surprise. 
 ‘ What dost want to knoAV for ? Hoav should I, 
 but by the help of Adam’s carriage — a stout pair of 
 legs ?’ 
 
 “ ‘ But it will be dangerous,’ I observed, in a low tone. 
 
 ‘You have got money about you, and — and’ 1 faltered, 
 
 afraid to finish the sentence, though I saw my father Avas 
 still sleeping, and no one seemed attending to our con- 
 versation. 
 
 “ ‘ Dangerous !’ he exclaimed. ‘ No, no — doant thee 
 think I am easily frightened ! With this good oaken stick, 
 Jonathan GoodAvin Avouldn’t fear the devil himself, if he 
 stood in the Avay !’ 
 
 “ He turned out of the booth, after shaking me 
 
See pa_'f -'■3fc 
 
 1 iL IT M © m. 
 
THE GirSY MOTHER, 
 
 337 
 
 heartily by the hand, and ])iddin^ me be a good girl, and 
 take care of myself. 
 
 “ I cast a hasty glance around, to see whether I was 
 observed — no one was looking at me, and I darted after 
 him. 
 
 “ He was walking with great strides, and with diffi- 
 culty I overtook him, and laid my hand gently upon 
 liis arm. 
 
 ‘‘ You must not go to-night,’ I uttered, in breathless 
 accents. 
 
 He shook me impatiently off — ^ Go, go along, girl 1’ 
 he exclaimed ; ‘ do not think to impose upon mf, with 
 your canting tricks — but that’s the way of all your gang’ 
 — they’re never contented ! give you an inch, and you’ll 
 take an ell. Come, here’s another sixpence for you — 
 now, go back, like a good girl.’ 
 
 “ * I am not imposing upon you, Mr. Goodwin !’ I 
 exclaimed, with earnestness — ‘ I do know that there is 
 danger awaiting you, if you persist in now going' home. 
 Pray, be persuaded — remain in town to-night — you can 
 start at day-light, and then there will be no fear.’ 
 
 ‘ And where should I sleep to-night, then ?’ he 
 demanded, with a look which I well understood. 
 
 ‘You can easily get a bed at some of the inns,’ I 
 returned ; ‘ or, I dare say, you have some friends here, 
 who would shelter you for a night.’ 
 
 “ ‘ Are you really in earnest ?’ he observed. ‘ I know 
 some of your set are desperate devils — l)ut, surely, they 
 
 wouldn’t think of besides, if I go by the coach, what 
 
 opportunity can they have ?’ 
 
 “ ‘ You have a long lane to pass up, after you leave 
 the coach,’ I replied, gasping for breath, as much at 
 
 2 X 
 
338 
 
 THE aiPSY MOTHER. 
 
 terror at the length I was going*, as horror at the 
 thoughts that crowded upon me. 
 
 ‘‘ His ruddy face changed instantly to a deadly pale — 
 ^ The rascals !’ he exclaimed, ‘ I see it all now — as plain as 
 a pike-stalf ; they’ve laid a plan to murder me in the lane 
 — they that I’ve given victuals, and drink, and lodging to 
 — but I’ll never harbour one of the vagabonds again, as 
 long as I live. No, if ever one comes within sight of 
 my house again, if I don’t set the mastiff upon them, may 
 I be ’ 
 
 ‘Hush! hush!’ I wliispercd, for at that moment I 
 saw one of my female associates advancing towards us. 
 
 ‘ for heaven’s sake,’ I added, ‘ do not betray that I have 
 
 given you this warning, or I shall be ’ 
 
 “ ‘ Come along with me,’ he exclaimed, seizing my 
 hand, ‘ you have saved my life! I am sure you have, and 
 I’ll never see you want, as long as I live ! My wife, too, 
 she has often pitied you, and said you were too good to 
 be among such a crew — and I’m sure, when she hears 
 what you’ve done for her, she’ll cherish you like her own 
 sister ! My poor wife, my dear little ones, too, they’ll 
 have reason to bless you, as long as they live ! Come, I 
 will find a place where you can stay to-night, and to- 
 morrow you shall go home with me. There’s plenty of 
 work for you to look after the little ones, and you told 
 her that you wouldn’t mind work, if any one would 
 employ you.’ 
 
 “ ‘ I dare not, I cannot accept your offer,’ I observed ; 
 ‘ for that would at once betray to my companions that I 
 
 had prevented their plan — besides, my father ’ 
 
 “ ‘Ah, that old villain ! he, too, I suppose, is in the plot ! 
 I know now why he asked me so particularly about the 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 339 
 
 coach — but 1 don^t know what hinders me having them 
 all taken up at once — it would be the saving, perhaps, of 
 many an honest man’s life and money !’ 
 
 ^ Oh no, no — for mercy’s sake, do not reward me 
 thus, by making me the means of betraying my father !’ 
 I wildly exclaimed. ‘ He does not, indeed he does not, 
 know anything of their plans ! How could he, when 
 you know he has never been out of your company, since 
 you entered the booth ?’ 
 
 ‘ That’s true,’ he replied ; ^ well, well, don’t frighten 
 yourself — I won’t do any thing you don’t approve of — 
 but you must come with me, now — I must have some 
 further talk with you ; if you v/on’t go home with me, I 
 must see what can be done.’ 
 
 “ The woman, whom I have before noticed as 
 approaching towards us, had passed on at some distance, 
 without appearing to observe either me or my com- 
 panion. 
 
 “ I felt more than half inclined to accept his friendly 
 offer — but I recollected my father ! He would, perhaps, 
 be suspected of having leagued with me in betraying his 
 associates, and they would wreak their vengeance upon 
 him ; or, if they did not, what would his life be without 
 me ? To my exertions he was indebted for many com- 
 forts which his companions never knew, or never appre- 
 ciated. I had kept him from sinking into the squalid, 
 filthy wretchedness of appearance, which they either were 
 forced into from necessity, or adopted from choice, as 
 rendering them greater objects of compassion. I could 
 not be so selfish as to leave him, and I shook my head 
 mournfully, as I withdrew my hand from the rough grasp 
 of the honest farmer. 
 
340 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ‘ You won’t go with me, tlien ?’ he exclalmeci. 
 ‘ W ell, I’m sorry for it — very sorry — because I’m sure 
 you’d be a good deal better off than with such a set of 
 cut-throat ruffians ! But, however, you shall not go 
 without something to show that I am thankful for what 
 you have done for me.’ 
 
 “ He drew out his heavy canvass purse, and untied the 
 string. At that moment, the woman, who, I thought, 
 was entirely out of sight, glided quickly up, and stood 
 close behind him, without his observing her. 
 
 “ I understood, too wmll, the meaning of the glance 
 which she cast first at me, and then at the money; but I 
 knew not how to act — I dared not even make a signal to 
 1dm, for his eyes were -fixed on the bag, from which lie 
 drew a couple of guineas, 
 
 ‘ And after all, now,’ he observed, holding them 
 between his fingers, and fixing his eyes stedfastly on my 
 face, ‘ if you should be only deceiving me, for the sake 
 of getting ’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, no, no,’ I Interrupted him, hastily ; ‘ I won’t 
 deceive you — there’s Moggy, behind you — she’ll answer 
 for me, that I’ll be there — as I’ve promised — 1 never 
 deceive such generous gentlemen as you.’ 
 
 “ He seemed for a moment puzzled, but he looked at 
 the woman, and comprehended me. 
 
 «« « Well, if you deceive me, I’ll never trust woman 
 again,’ lie observed, in the same tone of levity which i 
 liad adopted, ‘ But I must go, or the coach will go 
 without me. Give us a kiss, and mind and don’t 
 fail !’ 
 
 ‘‘ I did not refuse the parting salute, and he contrived 
 to wliisper — ^ — 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 341 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ If you’ll accept my offer, come to the Lamb and 
 Lion, and ask for me, before it is too late.’ 
 
 “ He walked away whistling, and striding along as if 
 in a great hurry to make up for lost time. 
 
 “I turned back towards the x’ace-course, and the 
 woman, who was an old enemy of mine, walked for some 
 moments in silence by my side. 
 
 “ ‘ You’ve made a tolerable day’s work of it. Miss 
 Nell,’ she at length observed, fixing her keen eyes on my 
 face. 
 
 ‘Yes, pretty well,’ I replied, laughing; ‘but if you 
 hadn’t come up, I should perhaps have done better — for, 
 in the humour he was* in, I might perhaps have got it all.’ 
 
 “ She shook her head maliciously, but uttered not a 
 word; yet her silence was sufficient — I saw that she 
 suspected me, and my heart sank with fearful anticipation 
 of what was to come. 
 
 ‘ And, pray, where are you going now ?’ she de- 
 manded ; ‘ you recollect there are some that hav’nt been 
 so lucky as you, that are without supper to-night !’ 
 
 “ ‘ I have not forgotten it,’ I answered, ‘ but you can’t 
 be surprised that I should go to look for my father first.’ 
 
 “ ‘ Oh, no, to be sure,’ she replied ; ‘ and so, then, he 
 don’t know of this windfall ?’ 
 
 “ ‘ No, certainly,’ — I shortly answered, ‘ but you may 
 as well take this, and get what you like in the town, 
 while I look for him.’ 
 
 “ She snatched eagerly at the bait, and walked off, 
 desiring me not to be long — for they were all too hungry 
 to wait for me. 
 
 “ I had now time to consider what I should do — 
 should I, at once, acknowledge to my father how I had 
 
342 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 acted, and take his advice as to the future? I knew the 
 story that had (I hoped) passed current with the woman, 
 would not deceive him. I knew, too, that, except in one 
 awful instance, he had ever been decidedly opposed to 
 any scheme of his lawless companions, which included 
 the possibility of murder. In short, I determined to 
 reveal the whole truth, and run the risk of his resent- 
 ment. 
 
 did so, and was loaded with reproaches for not 
 having before consulted him. 
 
 “ I might have made that man a friend for us both,’ he 
 observed; ‘and, through his means, have been enabled to 
 carry into effect a plan that has long been in my mind, 
 of getting out of the kingdom, and ’ 
 
 “ ‘ It is not too late, perhaps,’ I hastily observed, ‘ I 
 know where to find him.’ 
 
 “My father consented that I should seek the Lion and 
 Lamb, and see what I could do with my new friend; but 
 it was nearly two hours before I could discover the house, 
 which was better known by some name (I forget what) 
 which it had formerly borne, and was quite at the oppo- 
 site extremity of the town; and, when I did find it, I 
 learned, to my infinite disappointment, that the farmer 
 had gone to rest some time before. 
 
 “ What was now to be done ? We had been too long 
 absent from our companions, not to raise suspicions of 
 something unusual, and my conversation with my father, 
 during the time we had been together, had excited feel- 
 ings in his bosom which had long lain dormant. 
 
 “ ‘ I will not go back to them, Elinor!’ he exclaimed; 
 ‘ they will be certain to suspect us, when they find their 
 expectations defeated. I have made up my mind, I will 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 343 
 
 not go back — we cannot be worse oft' without them, than 
 we have been with them.^ 
 
 “ You may be sure I said all I could to strengthen this 
 resolution — but whither were we to go? I had about five 
 shillings (the fruits of my evening’s exertions), besides 
 the guinea in my possession; but this would not carry us 
 to London, which, my father suggested, was the best 
 place to elude the vengeance of the gang for a time, 
 unless we travelled on foot, and then they might pursue 
 and overtake us. 
 
 “We were standing near the gate of the principal inn, 
 while we debated the course we should pursue, when 
 two gentlemen passed us, arm in arm. The younger 
 looked at me, and made some light remark 
 
 “ ‘ That is Delaney’s voice, I will swear !’ exclaimed 
 my father. 
 
 “It was Delaney — but I saw that he would fain have 
 avoided the recognition, had he been able. My father, 
 as briefly as possible, explained our destitute situation; 
 he, in fact, exaggerated it — for he told him we were 
 in want even of the means of getting a shelter for the 
 night. The elder gentleman had walked in to the house, 
 while we were talking — but he speedily returned. 
 
 “ ‘ Come, Mrs. Delaney is waiting for your coming 
 in to supper,’ he observed ; ‘ I shall tell her, if you don’t 
 make haste, that you are with a female, and a devilish 
 pretty one, too,’ he continued, coming close to me, and 
 staring me in the face. 
 
 Delaney had drawn my father aiiide. 
 
 “ ‘ Do not, for heaven’s sake, betray my connexion with 
 you,’ he observed. ‘ Here is something for the present 
 — and, to-morrow morning, I will see you, and talk 
 further of what can be done.’ 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEPt. 
 
 341 . 
 
 He put a few shillings in my father’s hand, and hur- 
 ried away. Oh, how my heart leaped, when I heard my 
 aunt named — she was the only female relative that had 
 known me in my infancy — she had been the bosom friend 
 of my mother, and she was a mother herself. Surely, 
 she would feel for the poor destitute Elinor — she would 
 pity and protect her ! 
 
 “ My father procured a lodging for us, for the night 
 — and I passed the whole of it in anticipating the result 
 of the interview, which I expected would take place in 
 the morning. I would be content to remain with her as 
 her servant — I would submit to any thing, any restric- 
 tions, to be placed under her protection, and to spend my 
 future years with one whom I could call my friend. 
 She could not — I was sure she could not — abandon me 
 again to the world. 
 
 “ My father was less warm in his anticipations. She 
 was his sister, and he felt that he had no right to expect 
 much from her. 
 
 “ The morning came at last, and, though with fear 
 and trembling, lest we might be met by any of the gang 
 whom we had quitted, we hastened to the inn. 
 
 ‘‘ They had quitted it at day-light, on their route to 
 Ireland; and a note from Mr. Delaney, advising my 
 father to quit England altogether, and thus avoid danger 
 to himself, and disgrace to his family, was all they had 
 deigned to bestow. 
 
 “ My father tore the cold and Insulting epistle to 
 pieces, and I wept with disappointment and agony, as I re- 
 turned with him towards the house, at which we had slept. 
 
 A loud — Oh, oh! so here you are, both together!* 
 aroused me from my mournful reverie. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 345 
 
 I started — expecting to see some of our late com- 
 panions — but it was the honest farmer, of whom I had 
 scarcely thought since my meeting with my uncle. 
 
 “ So thou earnest last night, it seems, and I was in bed,’ 
 he continued, addressing me. ^ Well, and what did’st 
 want, my girl? wilt accept my offer? but I suppose I 
 need not ask, since I see thou art still with the old fox ? 
 but, as I told thee before, and I’ll stick to it — if thou 
 want’s! a home, and art willing to work — for I can’t 
 afford to keep thee or any one else in idleness — why, 
 here’s my hand, and thee mayst come home with me at 
 once. There’s nothing to stop us now in the lane, I take 
 it, old one!’ 
 
 ‘ I should hope not, sir,’ returned my father; ‘but, 
 believe me, I knew nothing last night of the design 
 against you.’ 
 
 “ ‘ No, but thou would’st not have hindered it, if thou 
 had’st — speak truth, now ?’ returned the farmer ; ‘ but 
 hows’ever, I don’t want you to own any thing against 
 yourself— -but are you willing that yon good girl should go 
 home with me, and quit the bad company she’s got into ?’ 
 
 “ ‘ We have quitted it,’ said my father, emphatically; 
 
 ‘ neither her nor I will ever join the gang of wretches 
 we have left, if we starve, as we are likely to do, without 
 some help! Indeed, we dare not — for by this time they 
 know that we have been the means of defeating their 
 plans, and ’ 
 
 “ ‘ Od’s life, man, don’t say we^ said the farmer, gruffly; 
 ‘for I don’t think I owe much to your good will; and 
 
 as to help but come, I will give you a breakfast, 
 
 though I suppose I shall be jeered at for my pains, and 
 then we’ll talk further.’ 
 
 2 Y 
 
346 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ I followed them with a heavy heart — for I knew my 
 father too well to believe that he would be satisfied with 
 the friendly assistance that the farmer seemed inclined to 
 alFord us — I feared, in fact, that he would overreach him, 
 in some way, and I wished — oh, how ardently I wished — 
 to preserve the good opinion even of one human being ! 
 
 The farmer ordered breakfast at the house at which 
 he had slept; and my father proceeded to tell his lamen- 
 table tale. 
 
 *^As I suspected, it was a long tissue of falsehoods; 
 and though I had heard them repeated a dozen times or 
 more before, I blushed with vexation and shame now, as 
 the good man, in his rough and blunt manner, expressed 
 his sympathy for the misfortunes which had reduced an 
 honest man to such a wretched course of life. 
 
 “ ‘ And so, you say, yoif ve got friends in Ireland, if 
 you could get there? and youVe sure theyM help you, if 
 you could get to them ?’ 
 
 ‘‘ My father assented, adding that he had no doubt he 
 should be able, at no very distant period, to repay any 
 one who would assist him with the necessary means to 
 get there. 
 
 ‘ And how much would take thee there ?’ demanded 
 our friend. 
 
 My father pretended to reckon up the amount of the 
 passage, and travelling to the residence of his friends — 
 but the amount startled the farmer, who shook his head, 
 as he replied 
 
 “ ‘ Dang it, Pm sorry I’m not a rich man, or I’d give 
 it thee in a minute ; but crops have been desperate bad 
 this year, as thou know’st — and next Monday’s Martle- 
 mas-day, and ^ 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 347 
 
 « < My dear sir,’ said my father, in one of his most 
 insinuating tones ; ‘ do not suppose I had the presump- 
 tion to hope for such a thing. Oh, no — I could not dare, 
 after your generosity to my daughter, last night — I could 
 not expect any further favour.’ 
 
 “ The farmer seemed meditating something deeply in 
 his own mind, which he at length vented aloud in 
 words 
 
 ‘‘ ^ Hang it !’ he observed, ‘ I should have lost it all, 
 and my life, too, but for her — and^/bwe pounds can’t ruin 
 me, and may be the saving of ’em both. If I could be 
 sure, now, that he’s telling truth !’ 
 
 “ He looked at me, as if he would read my heart — 
 and hurt, degraded, and wretched as I felt, at my father’s 
 systematic adherence to the habits of dissimulation and 
 fraud he had so long practised, I could not refrain from 
 tears. The honest farmer, however, ascribed those tears 
 to a source widely different to that from which they 
 really originated. 
 
 ‘ Hang it all, wench, don’t cry,’ he observed ; ‘ it 
 cuts me to the heart to see a woman cry, and much more 
 when I know that I am the cause of it. Five pounds, to 
 be sure, is a good round sum; but, hows’ ever, I shall 
 be able to make it up again — and it an’t like throwing 
 the money away, neither. No, no — if it will do the 
 business for you and the old man, and get you out o’ this 
 vagabonding sort o’ life, I’m sure it will be well laid out 
 — so, for once. I’ll venture and ask my landlord for a 
 Aveek or two’s grace, though it’s what I never have done, 
 or ever thought to do.’ 
 
 “ He took the money from his purse, looked at it with 
 a sigh, and then put it into my father’s hand, observing 
 
THE CilpSY MO'niEU. 
 
 MH 
 
 ^ Tliere, old boy, IVe done as much for you as I 
 would for my own brother — and I hope it will prosper 
 with you, for I should be woundy sorry if I thought you 
 would make a bad use of it.’ 
 
 ^ Never fear,’ said my father, eagerly grasping the 
 money; ‘depend upon it, you never applied money to 
 a better purpose than this.’ 
 
 “ ‘ I hope so,’ returned the farmer, gravely ; ‘ but it is 
 time I was off — the old woman will, I am sure, have been 
 fretting herself to death, for I was never a night away 
 from home before.’ 
 
 “ ‘ Thank God, you ?m/l return to her in safety now !’ 
 I exclaimed, as I shuddered at the thought of the danger 
 he had escaped. 
 
 “ My father thanked him with apparent warmth, but I 
 could not help observing that he looked at the heavy 
 purse, which the farmer carefully put up in his pocket, 
 with a wishful eye; and I felt thankful, when, after 
 abundance of good wishes and charges to me to take care 
 of myself^ and look out for a good, steady, and industrious 
 husband to take care of me, he at length departed. 
 
 “ ‘ I wonder Avhether any of our folks are in town,’ 
 observed my father, after musing for some moments in 
 silence. 
 
 “ ‘ I hope not,’ I replied, emphatically. ‘ It must now 
 be our chief care to avoid them.’ 
 
 “ ^ He said he should not pay his rent till next week — 
 did he not?’ replied my father, without appearing to 
 notice my observation. 
 
 “ ‘ And of what consequence is that ?’ I replied with 
 haste, while a horrid presentiment took possession of my 
 mind. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 349 
 
 “ ‘ None at all/ he returned, and again relapsed into 
 his musing mood, 
 
 “ I reminded him, that the sooner we quitted Wor- 
 cester the better, and tried to draw from him what were 
 his plans for the future — hut he was sullen and reserved, 
 though he agreed with me that it would be advisable to 
 make a retreat as soon as possible. 
 
 “ ^ I will go and see,’ he at last observed, ‘ what time 
 a coach will start for London — for that will be our best 
 course, and do you remain here, till I come back.’ _ 
 
 I was unwilling to lose sight of him, and would fain 
 have accompanied him — but he was positive, and I dared 
 not persevere. 
 
 ‘‘ Hour after hour elapsed, and he did not return. I 
 dared not venture from the place, lest he might come 
 liack and thus miss of me — and in agonies, such as I never 
 but once before experienced, I awaited his coming. 
 
 ‘‘ At last he came, and, as usual, intoxicated — but this 
 I was happy now to see, for it accounted, I thought, for 
 his absence, and quieted the horrid fears which had 
 possessed me during the last few hours. 
 
 He had taken two places for London, by a coach 
 which left in the evening, and every thing now con- 
 tributed to prove that the terrors to which I had given 
 way were groundless, and my heart beat high with hope 
 for the future, as I took my seat by his side. 
 
 Our journey produced nothing worthy of remark — 
 we arrived safe in London, and desirous of avoiding 
 meeting any of our former friends, took a humble lodging 
 at the west end of the town for a few days, until we 
 could fix definitely what course to pursue. 
 
 “ I now flattered myself that my father’s bad habits 
 
350 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 and principles were at last likely to undergo a reforma- 
 tion, and, though anxious and uneasy as to the means we 
 must pursue to obtain a living, I was comparatively 
 liappy and grateful — most grateful, indeed, did I feel to 
 the kind-hearted being, whose generosity had been the 
 means of rescuing me from such a state of misery. 
 
 “ Alas, this happiness was destined soon to be ' de- 
 stroyed! It was the fourth day only, I think, of my 
 residence in London that a newspaper fell by accident in 
 my way, and almost the first article which my eye rested 
 upon, was an account of the apprehension of some gip- 
 sies, for the murder of a farmer in Worcestershire. 
 
 “ Oh, how my heart sickened, and my blood chilled — 
 It was my frieud Goodwin ! I saw his name, and with 
 difficulty preserved my senses to read the appalling 
 account. 
 
 “ They had broken into his house at midnight, and 
 had succeeded in reaching his chamber without alarming 
 his servants, who slept at a distant part of the house; but 
 his wife had escaped at the moment of their entrance. 
 He had communicated to her the danger which my inter- 
 vention had saved him from, and of course she was thus 
 enabled, with almost certainty, to point out those wlio 
 had perpetrated this horrible deed. 
 
 “ But still my evidence and that of my father was re- 
 quired, and I saw that a warrant had been issued for our 
 apprehension, and a particular description given of our 
 persons. 
 
 ‘‘At that moment I had but one feeling — I would 
 almost have been content to suffer any punishment the 
 law could inflict, could I but have the satisfaction of 
 bringing to justice the wretches who had committed the 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 351 
 
 cruel act — but these thoughts were soon succeeded by 
 others of a different nature. I recollected my father’s 
 remark, after poor Goodwin had left us, and how fear- 
 fully I had connected it with his subsequent absence — I 
 had every reason, too, for believing that he had seen 
 some of the gang during that absence, and I joined with 
 this several mysterious expressions during the last few 
 days, which were now fearfully elucidated. Yes, there 
 could not be a doubt that he had suggested that which 
 they had so dreadfully consummated. 
 
 “In the midst of these reflections he entered, and 
 without speaking, I put the paper into his hand. 
 
 “ ‘ I know it all,’ he observed, with coolness, but 
 without seeming to dare to raise his eyes to mine; ‘ and 
 I came to tell you that we must not delay a moment my 
 project of going out of the kingdom.’ 
 
 “ ‘ I will not go !’ I exclaimed, with firmness; ‘ on 
 the contrary, I will immediately give myself up, and if 
 my evidence can convict the murderers ’ 
 
 “ ‘ And do you then remember in what predicament 
 you stand yourselfP’ he interrupted. ‘Do you recollect that 
 you are yourself proscribed as a murderer? the worst of 
 murderers ! — I know what you are going to say — you 
 are conscious of your innocence; — but will that avail you? 
 It shall not avail you! — Mark me, it shall not — if you 
 act in the manner you threaten, I will not be the only 
 victim of your folly and rashness !’ 
 
 “ I knew too well his determined disposition, to believe 
 that he would not act up to his assertion, and I was 
 obliged to submit to whatever he proposed; but from 
 that moment he became an object of horror and disgust 
 in my eyes — I saw that he would sacrifice me without 
 
352 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 remorse to his own safety, and the last lingering- remains 
 of tenderness in my bosom seemed extinguished for ever. 
 
 “We went to France — I was hopeless, reckless alike 
 
 of the present or the future But I will not weary you 
 
 with a detail of the means which we adopted, or the 
 miseries we endured, in the next two years; but pass at 
 once to the period when my heart, which had long- 
 seemed dead to all natural feelings, was once more 
 awakened and made susceptible of the liveliest and ten- 
 derest emotions. 
 
 “We had failed in every effort to procure an honest 
 living; — like Cain, it seemed as if a mark was branded on 
 our foreheads, to cause us to be shunned by the whole 
 world — and, driven by hard necessity, I had been com- 
 pelled to resort to the same precarious mode of subsis- 
 tence, which I had practised in England. 
 
 “ In the course of our wanderings, we had reached 
 Lausanne in Switzerland, and reaped, from the credulity 
 of the English, of whom there were a great number 
 resident there, a more plentiful harvest than we had 
 known for some time. 
 
 “ My ostensible occupation was selling small baskets, 
 which I had learned to make very neatly; but these only 
 served as an introduction and an excuse for my admit- 
 tance to those who would have blushed to acknowledge 
 that they listened to the idle divinations of a fortune- 
 teller. 
 
 “ At my own lodgings I was constantly visited by 
 troops of inferior dupes, chiefly servants, who were as 
 anxious as their mistresses to hear my prognostications 
 of their future fortunes. 
 
 “ There was one, in particular, who had visited me 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 353 
 
 several times; and, as she seemed rather dissatisfied, and 
 doubtful as to the extent of my skill, from my being 
 unable to answer some of her numerous inquiries — and 
 as I was conscious she might do me much injury, by 
 insinuating her doubts to others, I set my father to work 
 to find out what family she lived with, and, if possible, 
 gain some information respecting her former life, by 
 which I hoped to create in her a high opinion of my 
 power. 
 
 “ It was some days before he succeeded, for she had 
 been so guarded that I never could extract from her any 
 information, but that she lived with a lady of fortune, 
 with whom she had come from London; and I guessed, 
 by her never visiting me but on a particular day in the 
 week, that she resided at some distance, and only came 
 to the town to make some necessary purchases for the 
 ensuing week. But at length he traced her to a beau- 
 tiful retirement on the borders of the lake. Imagine 
 my feelings, my dear son, when he informed me that the 
 name of the family was Levison, that they came from 
 Cumberland, that there were three children, and that 
 the age and description of two of them exactly cor- 
 responded with those of mine. The lady, in whose 
 service the girl, who had been the primary object of his 
 inquiries, was living, was the maiden sister of Mr. Le- 
 vison. The latter, too, was unmarried, and, respecting 
 two of the children, all seemed enveloped in mystery. 
 The other was known to be Mr. Levison’s nephew — 
 the son of a lately deceased brother; but the two young- 
 est, the girl and boy, both called him papa, though it was 
 believed he had no claim to that title. 
 
 “ Such was the information which my father had 
 
 2 z 
 
354 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 gained from a French servant, with whom he had con- 
 trived to get into conversation. 
 
 “ Oh, how my heart throbbed with mingled feelings 
 of pain and ecstacy. I could not — I would not doubt 
 that they were my children — and my whole thoughts 
 were absorbed in devising how I should see them. 
 
 “ My trade afforded me a ready plea for visiting the 
 house, and it would be hard if I could not contrive to 
 hover about it, until I could catch a sight of them; and, 
 for once, I bade defiance to my father’s advice and com- 
 mands, and, without a moment’s delay, set off for the 
 house, the situation of which I perfectly remembered. 
 
 “ My plan succeeded, even beyond my expectations. 
 The children saw me from the windows with my light 
 burthen, and I was immediately sent for into the hall. I 
 saw the kind, good-humoured old lady come from an 
 inner room, dragged forward by the smiling impatience 
 of the blooming girl, and followed by two beautiful boys, 
 whose looks were directed with more curiosity towards 
 me than my wares ; but I saw no more, for my senses 
 deserted me, and I fell on the floor.” 
 
 “ Oh, well, well do I recollect that circumstance,” 
 observed Denzil; well do I remember our terror at 
 your supposed death — for such we thought it — and our 
 childish wonder at your recovery, after we had ceased to 
 expect ever to see you open your eyes again.” 
 
 ‘‘ Yes, I did open my eyes again,” she continued, 
 opened them to see the faces which had often appeared 
 to me in my dreams, like pitying angels mourning over 
 my degradation, now beaming upon me in reality, with 
 the tenderest pity and compassion. The little girl looked 
 alarmed, but you — oh, never, even till this hour, have I 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 355 
 
 forgotten the soft warm pressure of your hand, as you 
 laid it on my arm, and whispered to me, to know if I 
 wanted money or victuals, for you would give me all the 
 money you had, and your aunt would give me some nice 
 victuals ! 
 
 I know not what I said in reply to you, but my 
 incoherence alarmed the benevolent old lady, who tried 
 to draw you away from me, while she, in a half whisper, 
 observed 
 
 “ ‘Poor thing! her head is unsettled; she wants rest. 
 You must not tease her, my dear child; she shall lie 
 down on Sarah’s bed for an hour or two, and then we 
 shall see how she is, and what we can do for her.’ 
 
 “ Sarah was summoned ; and the girl who had been 
 the means of my discovering the happiness that was in 
 store for me, made her appearance. She looked fright- 
 ened and astonished, when she discovered for what pur- 
 pose she was Avanted; but I saw that I need be under no 
 apprehension of her betraying what she knew of me, for 
 she appeared terrified lest I should speak to her before 
 her mistress, and trembled as she assisted me to her 
 room, Avhither the good old lady followed, having first 
 given directions for a basin of wine-Avhey to be prepared 
 for me. Tears — the first tears I had shed since my last 
 interview with poor Goodwin — came to my relief, and, 
 having charged Sarah not to tease me with questions, and 
 seen me take her prescription, the old lady left me, re- 
 commending me to try to sleep. 
 
 “ ‘ Good heavens !’ exclaimed the girl, as soon as her 
 mistress was out of hearing, ‘ what can have brought you 
 here ? If my master should come home, and find out what 
 you are, and that I have been with you, I shall be 
 
356 
 
 TIIK G/l’SY IMOTHEIl. 
 
 turned out of doors, and you will be sent to prison, for 
 an impostor and a vagabond; for lie has such a mortal 
 hatred for all such as you, that I do believe he would 
 hang- you, if he could !’ 
 
 ‘‘I shuddered at her words — ‘ He will not find it out, 
 if you do not betray it yourself,’ I replied; Hor no one 
 else knows me. But I shall be gone, I hope, before he 
 returns — for I heard your mistress regretting to you 
 that he would perhaps be absent the whole day, and she 
 was always afraid of doing anything without his advice, 
 lest he should blame her, and think she was imposed 
 upon.’ 
 
 “ ‘ Good heavens ! then you understand English,’ she 
 replied; ‘and here I have had so much trouble to make 
 you understand me, though I fancy I speak French un- 
 commonly well, considering the time I’ve been learning, 
 which is only a little more than a year.’ 
 
 “ I w’as taken by surprise, but I warded it otf by say- 
 ing, with a mysterious look ^ Think you, then, that 
 
 I, who can read the language of the stars, am unable to 
 understand any language which mortals can speak ?’ 
 
 “ I saw she was awe-struck, and I continued ‘ I 
 
 have much of great importance to communicate respect- 
 ing yourself — but first tell me who are those two lovely 
 children who call your mistress, aunt. If I mistake 
 not, there is some melancholy mystery connected with 
 their destiny — either past or to come !’ 
 
 “ ‘ I will tell you all I know,’ she replied; ‘ and that is 
 but little, for it is only from half words that I’ve caught 
 from my mistress — but I believe they’re both love-chil- 
 dren^ or something of that sort ; the father is dead, and 
 the mother, I believe, is some horrid bad wretch, who is 
 
THE GirSY MOTHER. 
 
 357 
 
 never to know what has become of them — at least, I 
 know once, when I heard Master Denzil asking' my mis- 
 tress some questions about his mother, and wishing she 
 was alive, and that he could see her, the old lady said, 
 after he was gone — ‘ Poor little fellow ! mercy forbid you 
 should ever see the wretch, who was not worthy to be 
 the mother of such a child !’ 
 
 ^ It is too true !’ I exclaimed aloud, in agony. The 
 girl looked at me with alarm — ‘ Yes,’ I continued, assu- 
 ming my usual solemn tone, ‘ I read in the lines of that 
 child’s countenance that some circumstances of guilt and 
 misery had attended his birth.’ 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ And did you think the same of Miss Fanny?’ in- 
 quired the girl, with earnestness. 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ I did not note her countenance so minutely,’ I 
 replied; ‘ but she is his sister — is she not?’ 
 
 “ ‘ Oh, yes, his twin-sister at least, so we suppose,’ 
 
 she replied ; ‘ for my master has often said there was 
 only one hour’s difference in their ages.’ 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ I am satisfied,’ I replied. ‘ Alas, poor children, 
 they are indeed the inheritors of shame and sorrow! 
 Heaven grant that the sins of their parents may never be 
 visited on their heads ! But I should like to see them 
 again, when only you and I are present, I might then be 
 enabled to tell you more.’ 
 
 “ ‘I hardly dare run the risk,’ she replied; ‘for my 
 master would never forgive me, if he were to find it 
 out.’ 
 
 “ ‘ Could you not contrive to meet me with them?’ I 
 observed; ‘ for I suppose, you sometimes walk out with 
 them ?’ 
 
 “ ‘Oh, yes, every day,’ she eagerly replied; ‘and I 
 
 r 
 
358 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 should certainly like to know -but what have you got to 
 
 tell me about myself?’ 
 
 My father had learned sufficient of her history for 
 me to make out a plausible tale, both of the past and for 
 the future, to satisfy her; and, fully impressed with the 
 belief of my supernatural knowledge, I found that she 
 would be ready to do anything that I might suggest; 
 but I soon became weary of her importunate questions 
 respecting her own trifling affairs, when my mind was 
 solely intent on the happiness I had enjoyed, and was 
 enjoying — for it was superlative happiness to be under 
 the same roof with my children, and to know that I 
 should see them again and again; and I therefore affected 
 to be overcome with sleep, and begged her to leave me 
 as long as she could, without fear of Mr. Levison’s re- 
 turning. 
 
 This was a caution I needed not to have given her; 
 for the alarm at the thought of his discovering me, 
 almost equalled her curiosity to know all that she con- 
 ceived it in my power to tell her. 
 
 Sleep, you may be sure, was out of the question with 
 me ; and, soon after her departure, I arose and opened 
 the door of the chamber, in the hope of catching the 
 sound of your voice, or that of your sister ; but what was 
 my rapture and surprise, when I beheld you both 
 together, stealing on tiptoe towards my room, as if to 
 listen whether I was awake ! 
 
 “ Joy sparkled in your eyes as you beheld me — the 
 dear little girl shrank back apparently somewhat afraid, 
 but you immediately advanced. 
 
 ‘ Oh, I am so glad you are well again,’ you observed; 
 ‘ and I have brought you all my money, and I will get 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 359 
 
 some more against you come again, and I will save you 
 some cakes, too.’ 
 
 “ ‘ And so will I,’ said your sister, ^ and if you will 
 come every day, you shall not be ill again for want of 
 victuals !’ 
 
 I could not utter a word — Oh, how I longed to 
 clasp you to my bosom — but I dared not, though I ven~ 
 tured to cover both the little hands that were stretched 
 out to me, with tears and kisses; but, in the midst of my 
 emotion, and while you were wondering and half-fright- 
 ened, a rough voice was heard calling to a dog, and with 
 a loud and delighted exclamation of — ‘ Oh, there is papa! 
 dear papa, come back now ! I will ask him for some more 
 money, for the poor woman !’ you bounded away down 
 the stairs, at the same moment that Sarah, with a face of 
 alarm, was hurrying up to me. 
 
 ‘‘‘For goodness’ sake!’ she exclaimed, ‘get away 
 before he sees you — for he’s such a man to sift every 
 thing to the bottom, and will ask you so many questions, 
 that he’ll be sure to find it out !’ 
 
 “ I was as eager and anxious to escape from his inter- 
 rogations, as she could be to get rid of me; and I hur- 
 ried down the stairs, and into the kitchen, from which 
 there was a way out through the garden and plantations, 
 leaving Sarah to make excuses for my disappearance. 
 
 “ From that period I saw you nearly every day for 
 three weeks, and never did you come empty-handed; but 
 my father was not satisfied with my thus exposing myself 
 to risk, without reaping more profit from it. 
 
 “ He had learned that Mr. Levison spent much of his 
 time in fishing, with his nephew — you were then too 
 young to accompany him so far as he generally went ; 
 
360 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHEIl. 
 
 and, totally unknown to me, he formed a plan to throw 
 himself in his way. 
 
 ‘‘ I know not — I have never known, nor do I wish to 
 know, all that passed between them; but, whatever plau- 
 sible tale he had told to Mr. Levison in the first instance, 
 he then succeeded in imposing upon him, and getting 
 from him what was to us a considerable sum of money ; but 
 his rapaciousness was too often the cause of defeating his 
 wisest plans, and so it was, I believe, in the present 
 instance, though he attributed to me the betrayal of our 
 secret, by my over-fondness for the children, which had 
 excited suspicion in the bosom of the servants, as to my 
 real character. 
 
 ‘‘ Whatever was the cause, I know not, but I was sus- 
 pected, and means were taken to detect me; but my 
 father had a spy in the family, and he received an intima- 
 tion which gave us time to get oif. 
 
 ‘‘ I say nothing of the wretchedness and despair I felt, 
 at being thus again compelled to leave you behind me ; 
 but the danger was so pressing, that I had little time, 
 until afterwards, to reflect upon any thing but the 
 means of escaping it. 
 
 “We now returned to Paris, but we gave up all hopes 
 of a settled life and habitation, and have continued ever 
 since the same wandering life — sometimes abroad and 
 sometimes in England, as fancy or the hope of superior 
 gain has prompted, until accident again threw you in 
 my way in St. James’s Street, and revived those feel- 
 ings in rny bosom, which time and suflering had 
 somewhat blunted,” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 361 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Ask what is human life — the sage replies, 
 
 With disappointment lowering in his eyes, 
 
 A painful passage o’er a restless flood, 
 
 A vain pursuit of fugitive false good. 
 
 Youth, lost in dissipation, we deplore. 
 
 Thro’ life’s sad remnant, what no sighs restore ; 
 
 Our years, a fruitless race without a prize. 
 
 Too many, yet too few to make us wise. — Cowper. 
 
 Language cannot describe the feelings which had agi- 
 tated the bosom of Denzil, during this narrative; but it 
 was ended, and pity and filial affection banished every 
 other feeling. 
 
 We will never part again !” he observed, as he took 
 the hand of his mother. Yet, to-night I must return 
 — but to-morrow, my dear mother, I will finally arrange 
 my departure, and ere night you shall see me again.’* 
 
 Till to-morrow, then,” she exclaimed, hastily, “ I 
 will bid you adieu — for I hear my father coming; and I 
 do not wish you to meet, at this moment.” 
 
 Denzil had as little inclination to the interview as 
 she had, and he readily followed her directions to retire 
 into a small closet on the landing-place, until the old man 
 should have entered the room, by which means he would 
 avoid meeting him on the stairs. 
 
 The heart of Denzil seemed to chill as he heard him, 
 in passing, inquire What she had done with that boy?” 
 but the door was immediately closed, and he could only 
 indistinctly hear the hum of their voices. He was open- 
 
 3 A 
 
362 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ing- the closet-door, when the sound of the old man’s 
 voice suddenly raised, as if in a violent paroxysm of rage, 
 arrested his footsteps — he stood still to listen, intending 
 to rush into the room, if he heard any thing further; but 
 he had scarcely made the resolution, before a violent 
 scream thrilled through his ear, and his mother, covered 
 with blood, rushed past him and down the stairs, before 
 he could stop her, or make her sensible that he was still 
 near, to assist her and protect her. 
 
 As quickly as his trembling limbs would allow him, he 
 followed her down the dark staircase; but she had already 
 reached the street, and had sunk upon the ground, ex- 
 hausted with loss of blood. 
 
 His whole attention was now occupied with her — 
 several people had collected around, and it was discovered 
 that she had received a wound in her neck, apparently 
 from a knife. 
 
 It was some minutes before any one thought of secu- 
 ring the person who had assailed her, and then they 
 turned to gaze at each other, and to inquire who had 
 done the deed. 
 
 Denzil’s pale face and violent agitation, pointed him 
 out to their observation, as knowing something of the 
 transaction ; but he recollected the threats which Tyrrell 
 had on former occasions uttered against his unhappy 
 daughter, and he feared to speak what he knew. Indeed, 
 he was so much occupied with the situation of his mother, 
 that he saw not the suspicious eyes that were turned 
 upon him, nor heard the whisperings of those who fan- 
 cied that in his agitated countenance they read the evi- 
 dence of his guilt. 
 
 The unfortunate woman was still in a state of insensi- 
 
THE OIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 363 
 
 bility, and the surgeon, to whom she was conveyed, after 
 dressing her wound, recommended that she should be 
 immediately taken to the Hotel Dieu, adding, that it was 
 barely possible that she might recover sufficiently to 
 identify her murderer. 
 
 “ But where is he he demanded ; “ has he been ap- 
 prehended, and delivered into the hands of justice 
 
 Denzil, who had been anxiously watching the faint 
 signs of life which were visible in the sufferer, raised his 
 head, and looked inquiringly around him; but he com- 
 prehended not the mysterious looks that replied to his 
 glance, nor did he observe the surprise and consternation 
 of the surgeon, as the latter listened to the half-whispered 
 communications of several of the by-standers, who crowd- 
 ed together to impart to him the suspicions which the 
 young Englishman’s looks and manners had excited in 
 their bosoms. 
 
 ‘‘ Pardon me, sir,” observed the doctor, approaching 
 him, were you present when this unhappy affair took 
 place ? and can you give any explanation of who inflicted 
 the blow, or what was the motive that prompted it ?” 
 
 “ I was not present,” returned Denzil, in a faltering 
 voice ; I was quitting the house, at the moment she 
 rushed into the street.” 
 
 ‘‘ Then she must have passed you on the staircase,” 
 observed the surgeon ; “ did you then discover that she 
 was wounded ?” 
 
 Denzil remained silent — he did not like to acknowledge 
 that he had been in concealment on the stairs ; he con- 
 sidered the observation of the surgeon as merely prompted 
 by curiosity, and he therefore resumed his care and atten- 
 tion towards the object of his anxiety, without appearing 
 to notice the remark. 
 
3G4 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Tlie doctor, however, returned to the attack ‘‘ Ex- 
 
 cuse me, sir, it is absolutely necessary that 1 should ask 
 some questions — Have you known this poor creature, 
 before to-day?’^ 
 
 “ Yes,’* replied Denzil, abruptly. 
 
 ‘‘ Then your visit in that house had been paid to her?” 
 returned the interrogator. 
 
 ‘‘ Certainly,” said Denzil, in the same laconic tone. 
 
 “ Pardon me — it is odd — and yet, you say, you know 
 not any of the circumstances connected with the melan- 
 choly affair?” 
 
 ‘‘ I said truth,” replied Denzil ; but I do not see 
 what necessity there exists for your wasting your time 
 in questioning me, sir, when your patient requires all 
 your attention.” 
 
 But I see the necessity, sir,” returned the surgeon, 
 angrily; “and I will tell you at once, candidly, that your 
 conduct appears exceedingly suspicious; and that you 
 will certainly be obliged, for your own vindication, to 
 answer these questions very differently, unto those whom 
 I shall think it proper to refer you to.” 
 
 Denzil started — He saw at once the awkwardness of 
 the situation in which he was placed; and his heart sank 
 at the thought that probably the whole secret of his con- 
 nexion with the degraded and unfortunate woman, who 
 still laid with scarcely a symptom of life before him, 
 would be revealed to the world. 
 
 “ What would you have me say, sir ?” he observed to 
 the surgeon. “ I have told the truth — I had left the room 
 before the altercation took place, which, however, reached 
 my ear — and I was about to re-enter the room, to 
 protect her from violence, when she rushed out, bleeding 
 and wounded.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 365 
 
 “ Then it was on account of your visit, apparently — I 
 mean, it was jealousy that prompted the wretch, who, it 
 appears, assumed the title of her father, but who ” 
 
 “ He was her father — he is her father !” interrupted 
 Denzil, indignantly; “undeserving as he is of such a 
 daughter, I will answer it, with my life, that the impu- 
 tation you would cast on her is false and unfounded !” 
 
 “ Nay, sir, I cast no imputation upon her — I know no- 
 thing of her,” replied the surgeon; “but as I understood 
 
 she was a woman of bad character which is, indeed, 
 
 pretty evident, from the place of her abode, and the ap- 
 pearance of her associates,” he added, in a lower tone, 
 glancing at the knot of women who were crowding 
 around her, all uttering expressions of curiosity and 
 astonishment at an event which, it appeared, they had 
 but just become acquainted with, “ As, I say,” he con- 
 tinued, “ it is very evident to what class she belonged, I 
 scarcely thought it credible that the man, whom you ac- 
 cuse of this crime, was really her father ^besides, in 
 
 that case, what could have been his motives ? He must 
 have been well aware that ” 
 
 “ For heaven’s sake, torture me no more !” exclaimed 
 Denzil, unable to restrain his agitation. “ I have already 
 said that I am willing to answer any necessary interro- 
 gation — but there are circumstances connected with that 
 unfortunate ” 
 
 At this moment she opened her eyes — Denzil flew to 
 her, and she attempted to sti’etch out her arms to him with 
 a smile of affection ; but the pain of her wound restrained 
 the effort, and recalled her recollection to what had oc- 
 curred to her. 
 
 She darted a look of horror around her. 
 
366 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Where is he? what has become of him?” she ex- 
 claimed, in a tone that evinced much more anxiety on 
 her father’s account, than her own. 
 
 Do not alarm yourself,” replied Denzil. “ He will, I 
 trust, never again have an opportunity of injuring or 
 annoying you !” 
 
 “ Where is he, then?” she demanded, with increased 
 emotion. “ Speak — oh, speak — tell me where ” 
 
 “ I know not — he has fled,” replied Denzil. Pray 
 do not be agitated — You will injure yourselfl and all de- 
 pends on your recovery.” 
 
 ‘‘ Only assure me that he is safe — that he is not in 
 prison — ^and I will be — I will do — any thing you may 
 think proper/’ 
 
 “ I do assure you, solemnly, that he is not,” returned 
 Denzil; make your mind easy on that subject, and be 
 assured that I am as anxious as yourself for his safety.” 
 
 “ This is strange,” observed the surgeon, ‘‘ the chief 
 anxiety here seems to be for the guilty person — but I do 
 not wish to interfere — these are family concerns, un- 
 doubtedly, and I have nothing further to do, except to 
 recommend that my patient here be removed, as soon as 
 possible, to some place where she may have repose and 
 proper attention. If she has not the necessary means to 
 provide for herself, she will be taken care of at ” 
 
 “ I will undertake to pay for any — for every accom- 
 modation that can be provided for her,” interrupted 
 Denzil, hastily drawing out his purse. The surgeon 
 darted a keen glance at the gold, and his manner, which 
 had before been rather hrmque and abrupt, instantly as- 
 sumed a different tone. 
 
 “ She will require great, very great, indeed incessant 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 36T 
 
 attention,” he observed ; and it will be, above all, in- 
 dispensably necessary that her mind should be diverted 
 from dwelling on what is past. I have never been in the 
 habit of receiving any one into my house — nevertheless, 
 I would not mind a temporary inconvenience, to oblige 
 one whose liberality would no doubt be proportioned to 
 the accommodation afforded. If, then, you are really, sir, 
 so much interested in this poor lady’s recovery ” 
 
 “ I am interested, and I will properly recompense any 
 sacrifice you may make on her account,” returned Denzil, 
 eagerly; “ and as a security of my future intentions ” 
 
 He put the purse into his hands, which the doctor, 
 though he made a show of rejecting, declaring it was 
 quite unnecessary, as he could fully trust to milord* s 
 honour, safely deposited in his pocket; and in a few 
 minutes Denzil had the satisfaction of seeing the mot- 
 ley group, with whom he had been surrounded, all dis- 
 missed, and his mother removed to a respectable and 
 commodious apartment, where she was accommodated with 
 a sofe and pillows, until the “ best bed,” as the doctor signi- 
 ficantly termed it, should be prepared for her. 
 
 The tenderness which beamed in the eyes of the un- 
 fortunate victim of brutality, alone evinced her gratitude 
 for the arrangements which she heard her exemplary son 
 make for her comfort, while the surgeon was present; 
 but when she was left alone with Denzil, her feelings 
 would have burst forth into words, had not the latter 
 restrained her. 
 
 “ Why should you think thanks are due to me for per- 
 forming that which is only my duty?” he observed; 
 “ would that it were in ray power to efface every trace 
 of past misfortune from your mind, as it will be my 
 
368 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 earnest desire and endeavour to guard you from future 
 evil. There is one point, however, on which I deem it 
 necessary to speak, with what, you may think, too much 
 decision, and, probably, harshness ! but it is for your own 
 sake — for the sake of your future happiness, your com- 
 fort, your respectability — nay, even your personal 
 safety ’’ 
 
 “ I know what you are going to say,” she hastily in- 
 terrupted; “I know that you think it just and right 
 that I should be content to deliver up my father to the 
 punishment he has merited — but do not ask it. Do not 
 require of me, what I cannot bear to think of. No, no I 
 shall I, who have for years borne with evils worse, in- 
 finitely worse than death — who have encountered shame, 
 poverty, every evil that human nature can suffer to shield 
 him, shall I now ” 
 
 ‘‘You mistake me,” interrupted Denzil, “ you totally 
 mistake my meaning. I wish not — indeed it would be 
 folly and madness for me to expect, that you would act 
 so inconsistently with your blind and devoted attachment 
 to that unworthy man, as now to be the means of his de- 
 struction. All I would require of you is, that you will 
 give me a solemn promise, that you will henceforward, 
 neither directly or indirectly, hold any correspondence 
 or intercourse with him. I think it more than proba- 
 ble that he will, as soon as he finds that you are out of 
 danger, and that no steps are taken to bring him to 
 justice — I repeat, I think it more than probable that he 
 will again make some attempt to resume his former influ- 
 ence over you. I would not have you harshly turn a 
 deaf ear to his necessities. He is your father, and too 
 forcibly do I feel the sacredness of that tie, to wish yon 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 369 
 
 to act with severity towards him ; but, for your own 
 peace and safety, I entreat you solemnly to promise 
 that you will not hold the slightest communication with 
 him, without acquainting me.” 
 
 “ I will not — as I hope for salvation, I will not !” she 
 replied, eagerly catching his hand, and pressing it to her 
 lips. 
 
 “ Then you are henceforward solely my care !” he 
 exclaimed, affectionately returning her salute. 
 
 The surgeon at this moment entered the room, and 
 his looks unequivocally expressed his surprise ; but 
 Denzil offered neither apology nor explanation ; he felt, 
 indeed, none was due to a person who evidently acted 
 only from the impulses of self-interest, and he therefore 
 left him to draw what inferences he thought proper from 
 what he had witnessed. 
 
 — — 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 This is the man should do the bloody deed ; 
 
 The image of a wicked heinous fault 
 Lives in his eye ; that close aspect of his 
 Does show the mood of n much-troubled breast. 
 
 Shakespere. 
 
 Having seen his mother comfortably established in her 
 apartment, and being satisfied that she was not in any 
 immediate danger, but that the long swoon in which she 
 had so long lain, apparently on the verge of death, was 
 
 3 B 
 
370 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 as much occasioned by terror as by the wound she had 
 received, and was not therefore, now that her mind was 
 comparatively easy, likely to be followed by serious con- 
 sequences, Denzil began to think of the necessity of 
 retui'ning home. 
 
 Home ! — what a train of thoughts rushed into his mind 
 at that word — how soon would he be obliged to 
 relinquish that home again ! — to give up the society of 
 those so dear to him, and devote himself to the comfort 
 and happiness of one, who, whatever claims she possessed 
 on his compassion and sympathy, could hav^e no title to 
 his respect — could never, indeed, be beheld by him, 
 without exciting painful and degrading recollections. 
 Fanny, too — what would be her agony and dismay, 
 should she become acquainted with the particulars of her 
 mother’s history — with that horrible detail, to which he 
 had, within the last few hours, listened with apparent 
 calmness, but with inward horror and dismay. 
 
 No, no !” mentally exclaimed Denzil, as he slowly 
 retraced his way to the spot where he had desired his 
 servant to await his coming — ‘‘ no, never shall Fanny’s 
 pure and innocent mind be sullied by the knowledge of 
 her mother’s misery and degradation ! Let her still 
 remain in that blessed delusion which represents her 
 mother to her in the vesture of an angel of light. How 
 often has she, with me, in the romantic dreams of youth 
 and innocence, fancied that the spirits of our parents 
 were allowed to watch, as guardian angels, over our 
 
 mutual happiness ! Alas, could she know but she 
 
 shall never know — it shall be my care to keep from her 
 a truth, which would poison her happiness for ever !” 
 
 From this train of melancholy reflections he was 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 371 
 
 aroused by discovering- he had arrived at the door of the 
 wretched habitation which had so lately sheltered his 
 mother. He looked round for the cabriolet, which he 
 had desired Ned to bring- up in two hours. He knew 
 not how many hours had elapsed, but the moon was 
 shining brightly — all was quiet and still, betokening that 
 the night was far advanced, and neither cabriolet nor 
 Ned was visible. 
 
 He was still standing irresolute, (for he felt that his 
 strength was too much exhausted to reach Mr. Levison’s 
 residence, which was at the extremity of the city), wlien 
 a distant sound of voices in contention reached him ; and 
 he fancied he discerned that of Ned high above the 
 rest. 
 
 In a few moments they approached, and, to his sur- 
 prise and consternation, he discovered Ned, dragging 
 along a man whom he instantly recognised as the 
 wretched Tyrrell. 
 
 I will force you to tell where he is !” exclaimed 
 Ned. ‘‘ In that house I left him, with one who, I am 
 afraid, is no better than yourself! There has been some 
 foul play, I know — for there is blood on the floor of the 
 room ; and I could make out, from the gibberish of the 
 people in the house, and their holding up their heads and 
 turning up their eyes, instead of speaking out like Chris- 
 tians, that 
 
 At this moment his eye rested full on his master, who 
 had come close up to them, and for a moment he stood 
 paralysed with doubt, astonishment, and joy. 
 
 What is the matter, Ned?” exclaimed Denzil; 
 
 “ surely you have not been foolish enough to sup- 
 pose ” 
 
372 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ I did — I did !’’ exclaimed Ned, gasping for breath, _ 
 and bursting into a flood of tears. “ Oh, Lord be thanked > 
 tliat you are alive and well — for I never thought to see 
 you again in this world ! And how should I ever have 
 dared to go home and confess to my old master, and Miss 
 Levison, and Miss Fanny, that I had brought you here 
 to be murdered ! but you are not, thank heaven for that ! 
 
 — Oh, I should never have had a mpmenf s comfort ” 
 
 The old man, of whom Ned had relinquished his 
 grasp, the moment he beheld his master in safety, would 
 now have silently slunk away, but he saw that DenziPs 
 eye was steadily fixed on him ; and, assuming a dogged 
 and determined air, he stood still, as if awaiting what the 
 latter might have to say to him. 
 
 “You and I are too well known to each other, Mr. 
 Tyrrell,” observed Denzil, addressing him in French, 
 
 “ to have any reason for fear on either side ; and there- 
 fore I shall speak to you without reserve. I know not 
 what motives you may have for lingering in this neigh- 
 bourhood, where you must be aware you are so well 
 known, that ” 
 
 “ I did not come here voluntarily,” he replied, in a 
 sullen tone; “ I had just left the place, where I had 
 
 remained ever since — since ” 
 
 “ Since your cruel and cowardly attack on a defence- 
 less woman,” rejoined Denzil, seeing him hesitate. “ The 
 woman, who has for you sacrificed every thing — who 
 has hazarded body and soul to preserve you, and whom 
 
 you have recompensed by attempting ” 
 
 “ Has she accused me ?” he demanded, with a malig- 
 nant scowl — “ I know she is living, for I heard that, 
 even in my place of concealment.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 373 
 
 - “ She has not accused you — on the contrary, she is 
 still consistent with that principle which has plunged her 
 into so many crimes and miseries! She is still anxious 
 for your safety — anxious to shield you from the punish- 
 ment so justly your due — punishment which I feel myself 
 criminal for not delivering you up to, at once; but I pity 
 and sympathise in, while I condemn her feelings toivards 
 you — nay, I will go farther — though I feel I am doing 
 wrong — I will assist you to escape that punishment, in 
 the hope that your heart will at last be opened to convic- 
 tion, and that you will at length be induced seriously to 
 contemplate the awful responsibility with which your 
 soul is charged ! 
 
 Your daughter,” added Denzil, after a pause, “has 
 told me that there have been moments when you have 
 fearfully felt and groaned under the heavy weight of 
 guilt, which presses on your mind — when you have ac- 
 knowledged that the miseries you have suffered were but 
 • the just retribution of an all-seeing Providence, whose 
 laws you have broken and despised! Yet, even now, there 
 is hope ” 
 
 “No, no, no!” groaned the wretched Tyrrell, “tor- 
 ment me not with this vain preaching — I cannot, I will 
 not listen to you,” he added, with violence, while his 
 whole frame trembled with a convulsive shudder — “ I 
 dare not look back!— I dare not think of the future! Oh, 
 no, no — I am lost — lost beyond redemption ! lost beyond 
 hope! my fate is irrevocably sealed !” 
 
 Denzil, too, shuddered with horror at the dreadful 
 state of the wretched being before him, and for some 
 moments both remained silent ; while Ned, who could 
 not understand one word of what had passed between 
 
374 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 them, crept close up to the side of his master, as if ap- 
 prehensive of some unknown danger. 
 
 “ This is no place to prolong a conversation such as 
 this,” at length Denzil observed ; “ I feel, too, that I 
 am unable to bear further fatigue and excitation — yet I 
 do not wish to leave you thus — ^fain would I hope that it 
 is in my power to assist you, to rescue you from the 
 abyss on which you are hovering ! I would willingly run 
 any risk, and incur any danger or inconvenience, could I 
 but hope ” 
 
 It is in your power to assist me,” interrupted Tyr- 
 rell, resuming, in some measure, his usual sullen tone. 
 
 I am now without money or friends — without even a 
 home — for the folly of her, whom you have the misfor- 
 tune to call your mother, in irritating me in a moment of 
 intoxication, when she well knows my passions are ever 
 my masters — has rendered it impossible for me to return 
 to that wretched abode, which, bad as it is, was still a 
 home. It is, therefore, in your power to assist me, if 
 you will.” 
 
 Denzil instinctively felt for his purse — ^but in a moment 
 he recollected that he had already disposed of it, and he 
 uttered an exclamation of disappointment. 
 
 “ I had forgotten that I had already given all I had in 
 my possession to 
 
 « To Elinor P” hastily interrupted Tyrrell, with fierce- 
 ness; and she denied it, too ! Yes, I knew it was so — 
 I knew that it was not probable you had left her, without 
 giving her something — and yet she dared reproach me 
 for my sordid, mercenary views, when I 
 
 “ And it was that belief, then, that excited such 
 deadly feelings in your bosom !” exclaimed Montgomery ; 
 
THfe GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 375 
 
 while a feeling of the bitterest contempt took place of 
 that unmixed compassion with which he had but a few 
 moments before beheld him. 
 
 Tyrrell felt the alteration, and his voice and manner 
 became immediately humbled. 
 
 It was not altogether that,” he replied ; “ but she 
 told me that she had betrayed to you that which — 
 which 
 
 Which you were no doubt anxious to conceal,” re- 
 turned Denzil, with emphasis, “ but you ought to have 
 known your daughter too well, to believe that she would 
 betray you. You ought to have felt that it was natural 
 she would vindicate herself to her child, though she has 
 
 undeservedly borne from the world ” 
 
 ‘‘ I ought, I ought !” exclaimed Tyrrell, in a tone of 
 
 conviction. “ I do feel that she has been but I was 
 
 irritated and made furious with the liquor I had taken, 
 and rendered still more so by her refusing me what I 
 asked — denying that she had received any thing from you 
 — and denying it, too, with the most cutting reproaches.” 
 
 “ She spoke the truth — I had forgotten to give her 
 that which I had purposely provided for her necessities, 
 and which I have since disposed of, to secure her proper 
 attention, in the dangerous state in which your violence 
 has placed her.” 
 
 Tyrrell’s fierce scowl relaxed 
 
 “ I owe her much — certainly, certainly,” he observed, 
 as if communing with himself; “ she has done more for 
 
 me than ever but I can in some measure requite her, 
 
 were I placed in safety, were I but sure that she would — ” 
 He looked up at Denzil, who had been attentively watch- 
 ing the workings of his dark countenance, but was 
 
376 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 unable to draw any inference from the obscure hints 
 wliicb he threw out. 
 
 “You certainly owe her every reparation in your 
 power,” observed the latter ; “ and, as far as your safety 
 depends on her, or as far as I can ensure it, I will pledge 
 myself you shall not be injured.” 
 
 “ I will not detain you longer, now,” replied Tyrrell, 
 who had seemed to be deep in thought during this obser- 
 vation. “ You have no money, you say — therefore I 
 must shift as well as I can, for this night ; and, if you will 
 say where you will see me to-morrow ” 
 
 “ You had better appoint some place yourself,” inter- 
 rupted Denzil; “ you are better acquainted with the locali- 
 ties of the place than I am, and know best where you 
 dare venture with safety to yourself.” 
 
 “ But you said she had not accused me,” he replied, 
 looking suspiciously at Denzil. 
 
 “ I said the truth,” returned the latter ; ‘‘ but, I will 
 tell you candidly, that there were those present who 
 
 knew your character, and did not hesitate to fix ” 
 
 I understand you,” he returned, with a gloomy look. 
 “ Well, it cannot be helped now — it is done — and cannot 
 be undone !” 
 
 Again Denzil pressed him to appoint a place for their 
 meeting. 
 
 “ I suppose I shall not dare to show myself in the 
 daylight ?” he observed, in a sullen tone ; “ and what I 
 shall do with myself all day, without a farthing of mo- 
 ney 
 
 Denzil recollected himself. “ I have some silver,” he 
 observed, putting his hand into his waistcoat pocket ; but 
 again he was disappointed, for he had given it all to a 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 377 
 
 poor woman, who, with three or four squalid children, 
 had implored his compassion, as he alighted from the 
 cabriolet. 
 
 His only resource now was to apply to Ned, who 
 very reluctantly, when he understood for what purpose it 
 was to be applied, produced a few francs, which Tyrrell 
 received with an expression of abject gratitude, that 
 excited in Denzifs bosom mingled pity and disgust. 
 
 ‘‘Now, then, you can tell me where I shall see you?” 
 he observed. 
 
 Tyrrell meditated a moment 
 
 “You recollect the spot where you witnessed my in- 
 terview with that villain, Delaney ?” he observed. 
 
 Denzil replied in the affirmative. 
 
 “ Then, to-morrow, at dusk, if you do not find me 
 there, you shall meet some one who will conduct you to 
 
 me. I am it is of no use to say what I am — but in 
 
 this instance you shall not have to say that I have de- 
 ceived you, or that I am totally incapable of gratitude.” 
 
THE tilPSY MOTHER. 
 
 sry 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 “ I sought for glory in the paths of guile; 
 
 And fawn’d and smiled to plunder and betray, 
 
 Myself betray’d and plunder’d all the while ; 
 
 So gnaw’d the viper the corroding file : 
 
 But now with pangs of deep remorse I rue. 
 
 Those years of trouble and debasement vile.” — Beattie, 
 
 Completely exhausted in mind and body, Denzil with 
 difficulty, even with the assistance of his servant, reached 
 the place where the latter had left the cabriolet. It was 
 considerably past midnight before they arrived at home, 
 and Denzil felt himself at a loss how to account for his 
 unseasonable absence, at such an hour. 
 
 He was still debating the circumstance in his mind, 
 when Ned remarked that he supposed his old master and 
 the ladies were pretty well frightened out of their wits 
 by this time. 
 
 We shall soon relieve their fears,” replied Denzil; 
 “ but I am puzzled what account we are to give of our- 
 selves — for they must not know the real truth of the 
 case.” 
 
 ‘‘ I will manage it all, if you will leave it to me, sir,” 
 replied Ned ; ‘‘ only don’t you speak to them at all, but 
 let me answer them, and go straight to-bed.” 
 
 Though possessing no great opinion of Ned’s talents 
 or address, Denzil was very willing to avoid, if possible, 
 the unpleasant necessity of replying to the questions 
 which he knew would be asked; and he therefore readily 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 379 
 
 assented to his proposal, again charging him to be care- 
 ful not to betray anything that had passed. 
 
 To his great surprise, however, no one, except the 
 porter of the hotel, was up to receive him; and on in- 
 quiry, he learned that the family had retired to bed at 
 their usual hour, without any direction having been 
 given respecting him, or any anxiety expressed to be in- 
 formed of his return. 
 
 Denzil felt surprised and uneasy — something, he was 
 convinced, must have occurred to induce this show of in- 
 difference; and, with a new subject for perplexity and 
 uneasiness, he retired to bed. 
 
 Wearied and exhausted as he felt, from the harassing 
 events of the preceding evening, and the consequent de- 
 privation of sleep, Denzil was the first at the breakfast- 
 table, and in considerable anxiety he awaited the appear- 
 ance of liis friends. 
 
 At length, Mr. Levison entered the room, alone; but, 
 instead of expressing either pleasure or surprise at seeing 
 him, he replied to Denzil’s salutation with formality and 
 coldness, and seating himself at the table, contrary to his 
 usual custom, commenced making his breakfast. 
 
 Denzil was astonished and confounded — involuntarily 
 his eyes were turned to the door, expecting to see either 
 Miss Levison or Fanny; but they came not, and at 
 length he ventured to inquire whether they were well. 
 
 “Yes, sir, perfectly well,” was Mr. Levison’s laconic 
 answer. 
 
 Denzil for some moments remained silent — but he re- 
 flected that, in so doing, he was tacitly acknowledging 
 the justice of that resentment which, it was plain, dic- 
 tated Mr. Levison’s extraordinary reserve, and he there- 
 fore resolved to demand, at once, an explanation. 
 
380 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ‘‘ What have I done, my dear, sir,” he observed, ‘‘to 
 occasion this change towards me, since yesterday ? The 
 mere circumstance of my having been unexpectedly and 
 unavoidably delayed last night, to an hour inconsistent 
 with your regular habits, is not ” 
 
 “I do not wish to interfere in any degree with your 
 engagements, Mr. Montgomery,” interrupted Mr. Levi- 
 son, with assumed indifference. “ You are your own 
 master — and I have no right to interfere, either with 
 your hours, or the way in which you may please to dis- 
 pose of them; but, though I must not dictate to you, you 
 must allow me to be the best judge of my own family 
 affairs. I do not choose the female part of my family 
 should associate with improper company.” 
 
 “ Improper company !” repeated Denzil, blushing with 
 surprise and vexation. “ Do you mean, sir, to say that 
 I am improper company ?” 
 
 “ I do mean to say, that any young man, possessing 
 such effrontery as to leave this house, the moment he 
 rl'ses from a bed of sickness, to repair to a scene of vice 
 and debauchery, and can return at morning light to a 
 peaceful and regular family, must be improper company 
 for modest females.” 
 
 “ That is not my situation, sir,” returned Denzil, with 
 firmness. “ I left this house for no such purpose, — nor 
 did I pass my time in any such manner.” 
 
 “ Will you look me in the face, and say that you did 
 not drive from here direct to a house, the noted resort 
 of 
 
 “ I am not prepared to enter into any explanations of 
 where I went last night, sir,” interrupted Denzil ; “ but 
 I again explicitly and solemnly deny that I either went 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 381 
 
 or remained for any purpose of which I have reason to 
 he ashamed.” 
 
 “ I will tell you what it is, Mr. Denzil Montgomery,” 
 observed Mr. Levison. “ I have ever acted towards 
 you in a manner to deserve your confidence ; and I con- 
 sider myself treated with great disrespect, in the mystery 
 you have chosen to assume towards me. We cannot 
 live together on such terms — but there are other matters 
 in your conduct, with which I am dissatisfied.” 
 
 “ I am willing to give you every satisfaction, sir, in 
 my power. It is as much my inclination as my duty so 
 to do,” replied Denzil, in a submissive tone. “ Inform 
 me, then, what part of my conduct displeases you, and 
 I will, if possible, remove the cause of complaint.” 
 
 “ Excuse me, sir,” returned Mr. Levison, with emo- 
 tion; “ you must have been sensible, I am sure, that 
 when I so far yielded my own feelings to your happiness, 
 as to bring Fanny Levison here, I expected propor- 
 tionate gratitude and joy on your part. I did not expect 
 that she was to be treated with contempt and contumely, 
 or that you would prefer, to her society, that of an aban- 
 doned woman ; or that ” 
 
 “ You are mistaken, sir — indeed you are mistaken !” 
 exclaimed Denzil, with great agitation. “ I have never 
 treated Fanny, with contempt — she is dearer to me than 
 my existence, but ” 
 
 “ But what, sir ? — why do you not proceed inter- 
 rupted Mr. Levison, in a stern tone. 
 
 “ You are undoubtedly aware, sir, that I am now 
 perfectly acquainted with the unhappy circumstances con- 
 nected with my birth and Fanny’s ” 
 
 “ Quit the room, sir ! instantly, quit this room !” 
 
382 
 
 I'HE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 vociferated Mr. Levison, starting- up from liis seat. 
 “ Leave me this instant — leave me, presumptuous and 
 ung-rateful villain, lest I forget ” 
 
 Miss Rachel rushed into the room — “ Brother, dear 
 
 brother Denzil, for heaven’s sake, what have you 
 
 said — what have you done, to occasion this ?” 
 
 Denzil was about to speak — but the violence of Miss 
 Rachel’s pathetic entreaties that he would leave the room, 
 at length prevailed, and reluctantly he retreated into the 
 adjoining apartment, determined to await the success 
 of Miss Rachel’s attempts to calm her brother’s passion. 
 
 An hour, however, elapsed, without liis being sum- 
 moned, as he expected. His first emotion had been sor- 
 row, at having unwarily excited such feelings in the 
 bosom of one whom he so sincerely respected ; — but, the 
 more he reflected, the more unreasonable did it appear, 
 that Mr. Levison should give way to such violence, upon 
 a subject on which he certainly was much less interested 
 than he (Denzil) himself. 
 
 “ If it is painful for him to recollect those unhappy 
 circumstances,” he exclaimed, how much more reason 
 have I to feel them! Yes, he is unreasonable, unjust! 
 he is more — ^for his conduct is absurd, and irreconcileable 
 with common sense !” 
 
 Satisfied with himself, that he was not to be blamed, 
 Denzil withdrew to his own room, in full expectation 
 that if Miss Rachel failed in convincing her brother of 
 his folly and rashness, he should at least be visited by, 
 or have some communication from him ; but another hour 
 passed away, and he remained unnoticed; and, angry 
 and provoked, he resolved no longer to delay his intended 
 visit to his mother, whom he had promised to see as 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. S83 
 
 early as possible. With this intention he rang for Ned, 
 to assist him in making the necessary preparations. 
 
 The first sight of the countenance of his servant told 
 him that something extraordinary had occurred, and he 
 instantly demanded what it was ? 
 
 ‘‘ Nothing has happened to me, sir,” replied Ned, 
 promptly ; ‘‘ but I am struck all of a heap, as I may say, 
 to think that my old master and the ladies are going off 
 at a moment’s notice, and we are to be left behind — 
 though I made up my mind that we should never be 
 parted again, but all go back to England together.” 
 
 “ And are they going back to England ?” demanded 
 Denzil, in astonishment. 
 
 “ I can’t make that out,” returned Ned; nor I don’t 
 think they’ll let us know, if they can help it any way 
 — for Sarah says that Miss Fanny don’t know, even if 
 Miss Rachel does, and she ar’nt sure of that. But Miss 
 Fanny is crying her eyes out, and Miss Rachel, though 
 she is so busy packing up that she has hardly time to 
 breathe, seems to be in terrible trouble and anxiety.” 
 
 Denzil remained for some moments totally lost in 
 astonishment and perplexity. 
 
 “ Surely, surely,” he exclaimed, “ there must be some 
 mystery in this, that I do not comprehend! It can never 
 be, that my simple allusion to circumstances with which I 
 ought long since to have been acquainted, and which he 
 ought himself to have communicated to me, has given 
 rise to this violent resentment.” 
 
 Convinced that if he suffered Mr. Levison no\v to 
 depart without seeking an explanation, no other oppor- 
 tunity was likely to arise, of reconciling himself to him ; 
 and pained beyond measure at the idea that he should 
 
384 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 part with his benefactor for ever, in resentment — resent- 
 ment, too, which he was not conscious of deserving — he 
 wrote a few hasty lines to Miss Rachel, entreating that 
 she would intercede with Mr. Levison to see him, and 
 despatched Ned to watch an opportunity of giving it into 
 her own hands. 
 
 In a few moments he returned, with an answer written 
 in pencil on the back of the note. 
 
 I cannot see what good purpose it can answer, for 
 Mr. Montgomery to see my brother. Mr. M. cannot 
 unsay what he has said, and every endeavour at explana- 
 tion will only increase the mischief. — Miss Levison wishes 
 Mr. M, health and happiness.” 
 
 DenziFs heart sunk, as he read the cold and formal note. 
 
 ‘‘ Then I have nothing farther to hope or expect,” he 
 observed, in a despairing tone. 
 
 “ Poor Miss Fanny,” said Ned, “ my very heart aches 
 for her — I just caught a glimpse of her, as she sat at 
 the foot of the bed, looking as pale as a corpse ; and the 
 old lady’s eyes, too, are swelled out of her head with crying 
 — and what it’s all about, heaven knows ! For, suppose 
 they do think that you have got into bad company, and 
 were a little imprudent last night, as Sarah hinted to me 
 — surely, as I said, such a thing might be passed over 
 for once — and it was not the way to reform you, to 
 leave you altogether to yourself.” 
 
 “ How have they been enabled to form any idea where 
 I was, last night?” demanded Denzil; “surely, you were 
 not so imprudent, as to ” 
 
 “ I never said a word about it,” replied Ned ; “ and, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 385 
 
 indeed, Pd no need — for the very first thing Sarah said to 
 me, when I went into the kitchen this morning, was — 
 ‘ Well, Mr. Ned, you and your pretty, sedate, serious 
 master have got home safe, I see ! I wonder, for my 
 part, you did not get your throats cut by some of the set 
 you were among !’ 
 
 I asked her what she meant,’* continued Ned, ‘‘ and 
 I was quite astonished when I found that they were all as 
 well acquainted where we had been, as we ourselves, 
 though they didn’t know anything about what had hap- 
 pened, after I left you. Sarah wouldn’t downright say so 
 — but I fancy the truth was, that my old master set some- 
 body to follow us ; and, indeed, I think I know who it 
 was — that busy, meddling, mischief-making Jacques is the 
 man, or I’m much mistaken !” 
 
 Denzil felt that it was of little consequence now, what 
 opinion had been formed respecting his absence — and, 
 equally convinced that it would be useless for him 
 to attempt to deprecate Mr. Levison’s resentment, 
 he determined to pursue his purpose of visiting his 
 mother. 
 
 The surgeon met him at the door, with a most favour- 
 able report of his patient; and Denzil was himself 
 astonished to see the change for the better, that had 
 taken place in her appearance. 
 
 But the pleasure and happiness which beamed in her 
 eyes at seeing him, was soon overclouded by the dis- 
 covery, which she speedily made, that something had 
 occurred to render her son uneasy. Her first inquiry 
 was for her father, and her anxious question whether any 
 thing had been heard of him, recalled to Denzil’s mind 
 the engagement he had made to see him in the evening, 
 
 3 D 
 
386 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 which he had, in the hurry of his spirits that morning, 
 totally forgotten. 
 
 He repeated to her all that had passed between them, 
 the night before — hut, far from seeming rejoiced, at the 
 probability of her being thus released from all fear of his 
 interference with her for the future, the unhappy 
 woman seemed wholly occupied with the idea that some 
 danger would occur to Denzil, in his connexion with 
 him. 
 
 “ Do not see him, my dear child — do not venture to 
 approach his haunts ! You know not half that he is 
 capable of — you know not half the depth of his artifices ! 
 Never yet was any advantage offered him, that he did 
 not immediately set his fertile brain to work, to improve 
 it far beyond the intentions of those who wished to 
 benefit him — in fact, to defraud is his constant subject of 
 reflection, and stratagem is as natural to him as the air he 
 breathes. But it is not altogether his guile that I fear — 
 I dread lest something may arise ” 
 
 “ Dismiss those fears, then, my dear mother,” observed 
 Denzil ; “ forewarned, as 1 am, of the character of the 
 man, there can be no need of apprehension ; and, indeed, 
 in the present instance, I do not believe that there is the 
 slightest disposition, on his part, to take advantage of my 
 wish to serve him. On the contrary, I believe that, if 
 ever he did feel what gratitude for undeserved kindness 
 is, he feels it now !” 
 
 She shook her head — “ Alas, I know, too well, how 
 evanescent such sentiments are in his mind,” she replied; 
 
 and I again repeat — be careful, be cautious, and sus- 
 pect every thing that he says to you, unless your own 
 sense tells you that it is incontrovertibly true ; and now, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 387 
 
 my dear son, tell me — have you seen Mr. Iwevisoii? 
 Does he know ’’ 
 
 ‘‘ He knows nothing — he will never know it from me! 
 Mr. Levison and I have parted for ever he exclaimed. 
 
 His mother uttered an exclamation of surprise 
 
 They have not quitted Paris ?” she demanded. 
 
 “ No — but in a few hours they will have done so,” he 
 ' replied. 
 
 “ And on my account ?” she demanded. « Oh, my 
 son, already has my evil destiny began to affect your 
 hitherto good fortune !” 
 
 Denzil assured her she was mistaken He knows 
 
 nothing of my having seen you, even,” he observed; 
 
 nor, indeed, can I attribute his conduct to anything but 
 a strange captiousness, wholly inconsistent with his usual 
 good sense and liberality. But I cannot speak on this 
 subject,” he hastily added; ‘‘do not ask me to repeat 
 what has occurred — I must try to forget it altogether.” 
 
 It was near Mr. Levison’s usual dinner-hour when 
 Denzil again reached the hotel, on his return from his 
 morning’s visit; and, as he passed the room door in 
 which they were accustomed to take that meal, he ven- 
 tured to look in, in the hope that the preparations for it 
 would announce that the former had changed, or at lea^ 
 delayed his hasty purpose. All there was empty and 
 desolate. He paused at the drawing-room, to listen — 
 but no sound proceeded from thence, and he opened the 
 door. That, too, was vacant, and as he stood wondering, 
 his servant Ned entered behind him. 
 
 “ They are all gone, sir, — bag and baggage !” he ex- 
 claimed ; “ and where, nobody can tell — for even the 
 postillions did not know which road they were to take, 
 when they mounted their horses.” 
 
388 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Denzil received this information with more of sorrow 
 than astonishment. He had anticipated this, and was in 
 some measure prepared for it — hut the blow was not less 
 heavy, and for a few moments he felt as if stunned by the 
 certainty that he had indeed parted for ever with his 
 dearest friends. 
 
 Slowly and pensively he walked from room to room of 
 the suite of apartments they had inhabited, in hopes of 
 discovering some memorial that they had not left him 
 without an attempt to prove that they still regarded him 
 with kindly feelings — hut he was disappointed, — there was 
 not any thing ! 
 
 And Fanny !” he ejaculated — ‘‘ Fanny, with all her 
 grief and regret, it seems, thought proper to adopt the 
 
 resentfid feelings of her father her father, did I say ? 
 
 Can it he possible that she still considers him as her fa- 
 ther ? that she is still deceived, as I was ” 
 
 A thousand strange surmises darted into his mind. 
 
 Was it possible, after all, that his mother was de- 
 ceived, and that Fanny was not his sister ? Could that 
 account for Mr. Levison’s strange and incomprehensible 
 resentment, at his allusion to the subject of her birth ?” 
 
 The thought acted like an electric Hash upon him. He 
 had only his mother’s assertion and surmises to oppose to 
 the belief that this, after all, was correct. He recalled to 
 himself all the strange observations, the conflicting circum- 
 stances, which he had so often been puzzled to account for, 
 in Mr. Levison’s conversations ; and all seemed to confirm 
 the conjecture which he had thus suddenly alighted 
 upon. 
 
 ‘‘ Good heavens !” he exclaimed, and if this should 
 he really the truth — if it should prove that we do not 
 owe our origin to the same parents — how have I blindly 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 389 
 
 thrown away my happiness, at the very moment it was 
 in my power to secure it.” 
 
 The subject, which but a few minutes before had 
 seemed of comparatively little consequence, since, if they 
 had determined to abandon him for ever, it mattered 
 little to what part of the world his friends had deter- 
 mined to bend their course, now excited the keenest 
 anxiety in his mind. 
 
 “ Could he ascertain whither they were gone, he 
 would follow them — he would demand to have his doubts 
 satisfied ! Yes, he would no longer be content with 
 dubious and half communications, but would at once 
 boldly demand all that he wished to know, and which, 
 if known, would at once decide his happiness or misery.” 
 
 ‘‘ Yes I” he exclaimed, even if I were forbidden 
 ever to hope that I could become her husband, it would 
 be happiness to know that I dare love her — that I might 
 in secret worship her image — and dwell on the remem- 
 brance of those happy hours, in which we vowed 
 eternal fidelity to each other, without guilt and without 
 remorse !” 
 
 Vain, however, were all the efforts he made to dis- 
 cover the direction the objects of his anxiety had taken. 
 Every one around him seemed bound by some powerful 
 spell to frustrate his inquiries, and the evening arrived 
 without his having gained the slightest clue to the road 
 they had taken. 
 
 A note from his mother, again enforcing the necessity 
 of caution, and entreating him, as soon as possible, to 
 relieve her anxiety as to the result of his approaching 
 interview with her father, reminded him of his engage- 
 ment with that unhappy man, which he had again 
 
390 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 forgotten ; and, however little disposed to enter on any 
 subject but that which occupied his immediate thoughts, 
 he felt that it was necessary he should keep his appoint- 
 ment. 
 
 Precisely at the hour named, therefore, he presented 
 himself at the place which had been pointed out, and 
 found there — not Tyrrell, but a man whom he soon 
 recognised as one of the fellows who had been in the 
 room when he entered it, on the preceding day. 
 
 The necessity of attending to his mother’s advice to be 
 prepared against treachery, struck powerfully on his 
 mind — but he had armed himself with pistols, and he 
 resolved to sell his life dearly, should any violence be 
 attempted. 
 
 ‘‘ My friend dare not come himself, monsieur,” 
 observed the man, in a tone of obsequiousness ; “ but, if 
 monsieur will condescend to trust himself to my gui- 
 dance, I shall have the honour of conducting him to the 
 place where he will find monsieur Tyrrell — that is the 
 name by which I am informed monsieur will recognise 
 my friend.” 
 
 It is the name by which he is known to me,” said 
 Montgomery, with emphasis, ‘‘but lead on, monsieur, I 
 will follow you.” 
 
 The man walked on without further remark, and 
 Denzil followed through numerous by-ways and narrow 
 turnings, until they at last reached a house of rather re- 
 spectable appearance — the staircase of which they as- 
 cended, until his conductor knocked at the door of an 
 apartment, uttering, at the same time, a loud “ Hem !” 
 which Denzil immediately discovered was the signal for 
 admittance, as the key was instantly turned in the lock. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 391 
 
 and the door opened by Tyrrell himself, whose ghastly 
 features were illumined by a smile of pleasure, on dis- 
 covering by whom his companion was accompanied. 
 
 I see you are a man of your word, Mr. Mont- 
 gomery,” he observed, “ I was fearful ” 
 
 “ You need not, sir,” replied Montgomery, coolly; 
 
 but I trust that our interview needs no witnesses,” he 
 continued, glancing at the man who had entered with 
 him. 
 
 “ I will retire instantly, monsieur,” said the man, 
 bowing to the ground; “perhaps monsieur would like 
 to have a bottle of wine?” 
 
 Denzil understood the look with which this was said, 
 and immediately produced some money. 
 
 “You can get some wine, if you please, to drink my 
 health,” returned Denzil. 
 
 The man again bowed down to the ground and disap- 
 peared, though Tyrrell’s looks expressed some reluctance 
 to let him go away with what he probably considered as 
 too liberal a reward for the services he had performed. 
 
 Denzil took the seat to which Tyrrell pointed. 
 
 “ Have you seen her to-day?” inquired the latter. 
 
 “ Your daughter? yes, certainly,” replied Denzil, 
 
 “ I have seen her, and she is better than I expected to 
 find her — though not out of danger.” 
 
 “ I have made up my mind to quit this place, directly, 
 if I can procure the means,” said Tyrrell, after a few mo- 
 ments’ silence ; “ yet I should have liked, if it had been 
 possible, to have seen her first — I have many things to 
 say to her.” 
 
 “ It will be utterly impossible that you should do so, 
 Mr. Tyrrell, both for your own sake and hers,” replied 
 
392 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Montgomery, hastily; neither, could it be accomplished 
 with safety, should I think it advisable, on many accounts. 
 Of this, however, be assured — that you may safely en- 
 trust any communication you may have to make to 
 me.” 
 
 Tyrrell looked disappointed, and for some moments 
 hesitated 
 
 I know not,” he at length observed, why I should 
 be averse to communicate to you all that I have to say, 
 since my conduct cannot appear in a much worse light 
 than I know it does at present — I understood, from the 
 reproaches which Elinor uttered, that she had not spared 
 me in the detail of her own life, which she thought pro- 
 per to give you.” 
 
 The tone of voice in which this was uttered, betrayed 
 to Denzil that Tyrrell felt, even yet, no small degree of 
 resentment at the disclosures his daughter had made. 
 
 ‘‘ Your daughter has felt, and still continues to feel to- 
 wards you, an affection and kindness which, I will frankly 
 say, I think you by no means deserve,” replied Denzil. 
 ‘‘Even now,” he continued, “her first anxiety was for 
 your safety — her first inquiries of me were directed to 
 that object.” 
 
 “ Poor thing!” said Tyrrell, in a low voice. “Well, 
 Mr. Montgomery,” he continued, “ a few hours, I trust, 
 will remove that source of anxiety — the communication 
 I have to make, will perhaps effectually erase a feeling 
 which, I confess, she has carried to excess — a feeling 
 which has often caused me no little surprise, when I re- 
 flected how little claim I had to expect it. I do not al- 
 lude to my conduct towards her, which has been often 
 bad enough — ^but it will, perhaps, lessen its atrocity in 
 
THE aiPSY IHOTHER. 
 
 393 
 
 your eyes, when I tell you that 1 allude to the fact, 
 which I am prepared to substantiate, that she is not my 
 daughter !” 
 
 Denzil started. 
 
 ‘‘ Thank God for it !” he exclaimed, with involuntary 
 fervour; ‘^but are you really serious, Mr. Tyrrell?” 
 
 I am speaking the simple truth, sir,” replied Tyrrell, 
 
 and I trust it will not lessen me in your opinion; and 
 now I will tell you the whole circumstances attendant on 
 her birth. 
 
 ‘‘ Her father was an officer in the army, who was 
 killed in Holland; her mother, a young woman of infe- 
 rior birtl), died in bringing her into the world, leaving 
 her, with a considerable sum of money, in my care. The 
 child was adopted as my own, for I was then just married 
 — but I was, as I always have been, thoughtless and im- 
 provident — the money, which was intended for her, was 
 spent, and my hopes of replacing it frustrated. It wfis 
 this circumstance which induced me to conceal from her 
 her birth — I feared lest she should, at some future time, 
 be induced to make inquiries, and, in consequence, de- 
 mands, which I could not answer. My wife, too, who 
 had no children, doated upon her, and I conceived I 
 should be doing her no injustice by treating her and pro- 
 viding for her as my own — We quitted Ireland, where 
 she was born, and this favoured the deception. Singular 
 as it certainly was, too, her features and person (aye, 
 and many points of her disposition) bore a strong simili- 
 tude to my own — and I believe no one who ever looked 
 upon us together, ever doubted the reality of my claim. 
 
 “ Her father certainly was distantly related to me, and 
 the striking resemblance that existed between us, as well 
 
 3 E 
 
394 
 
 THE HIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 as my being* the only one of the family who countenanced 
 their marriage, was the cause of the poor mother’s pla- 
 cing such implicit confidence in me. 
 
 “ But there is no need of my saying any more on this 
 subject — I have told you all I can tell you, and there,” 
 he continued, taking some papers from a small tin case, 
 and giving them to Denzil, “there are the necessary 
 documents to prove what I have asserted. There is the 
 certificate of her parent’s marriage — the register of her 
 own baptism — and the will, by which I was appointed 
 her sole guardian; and now I have something else to 
 say to you — which more immediately and personally con- 
 cerns yourself. You are aware, undoubtedly, of all the 
 circumstances of your birth — but are you aware that 
 there is no legal impediment to your claim to the estates 
 and name of the Levison family? Your mother was 
 lawfully married to Mr. Levison, more than five months 
 before you were born — and it would be difficult, if not 
 wholly impossible, for them to prove anything now that 
 could bar your claim.” 
 
 Denzil’s countenance betrayed the extreme contempt 
 and indignation with which he heard this proposal; and 
 Tyrrell, who immediately perceived it, hastily added 
 
 “ This, however, is your business — not mine. But 
 it is also in my power to give you some information on 
 another point — though, perhaps,” he added, with an air 
 of sudden recollection, “ it might be quite as well if I 
 were to withhold it — since I am by no means assured that 
 you would consider yourself bound by any ties of grati- 
 tude, let me act as I would; and I have placed myself at 
 your mercy, in acknowledging that I have no other claim 
 upon you. Indeed, I was well aware, when I acknow- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 395 
 
 ledged that 1 was not the father of Elinor, that I at once 
 obliterated every tie that I possessed either upon her or 
 you !» 
 
 You are mistaken, Mr. Tyrrell,” replied Montgo- 
 mery, with calmness. “ The intentions I had formed 
 respecting you, remain unchanged by your communica- 
 tions. I will at once explain those intentions by stating 
 that I will furnish you with sufficient money to quit this 
 country immediately ; and that I will appropriate fifty 
 pounds a year to your support, whenever or wherever 
 you shall fix your permanent residence — I say your per- 
 manent residence ; for the only condition I make is, that 
 you totally relinquish those habits of wandering from 
 place to place, for which there can no longer be either 
 necessity or excuse.” 
 
 Tyrrell was silent for some moments — he was evi- ^ 
 dently struggling with feelings too powerful for words. 
 
 “ Forgive my having, for a moment, doubted you,” he 
 at length exclaimed. Your offer is, indeed, noble — it 
 is more, infinitely more, than I had hoped or anticipated 
 — and rely upon my rigid adherence to its terms. I can 
 have no wish, indeed, to act contrary to them — for will 
 it not be a blessed change to have a Imme, to one who 
 has been for nearly twenty years a wanderer upon the 
 face of the earth ! I shall, indeed, miss her whose affec- 
 tionate cares, ungrateful and undeserving as 1 have been 
 of them, have so long been my only solace and support ! 
 But I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that she is 
 happy — and that she will cease to regard me with those 
 feelings of terror, which, much as I have deserved them, I 
 should feel were infinitely aggravated, had I really borne 
 that relationship to her, which she has always believed.” 
 
396 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Montgomery did not attempt to shake the sophistry 
 by which this wretched man sought evidently to palliate 
 his guilt — but he felt that, however he might soften it to 
 himself, it could be little excuse for having, even in her 
 cradle, defrauded of her birthright the infant committed 
 to his care by a dying mother. 
 
 “ And now,” observed Tyrrell, after a mutual silence 
 of some minutes, ‘‘ there is, as I said before, another 
 subject, to which I would call your attention. You have 
 disclaimed all wish or inclination (at least, if I rightly 
 construed your look, when I mentioned the subject) to 
 prefer your claims to the name and heritage of Levison.” 
 
 You cannot, I hope, doubt it,” returned Denzil ; 
 “ you cannot, for a moment, suppose that I could be 
 base enough — nay, villain enough to entertain a thought of 
 coolly and deliberately robbing my generous benefactor, 
 by endeavouring to establish a claim, which, whatever 
 advantages the law might give me, I must, in my con- 
 science, know to be false and unfounded ?” 
 
 “ Certainly, certainly,” replied Tyrrell, hastily ; ‘‘ you 
 are undoubtedly right — but I,” he continued, with a deep 
 sigh, “ have been little accustomed to consult the dictates 
 of conscience, when opposed to worldly interest. It 
 would have been, perhaps, happy for me if I had always 
 done so^ — and I can now adduce a proof, if you needed 
 it, (as it is plain you do not,) that an adherence to the 
 right and just side, is ever the most prudent. I can, I 
 say, put you in possession of facts, which may — I do not 
 say they will — prove even more advantageous to you 
 than the establishment of your claims to the name of 
 Levison, — facts, which may establish your claims to a 
 title as well as an estate.’^ 
 
, THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 39T 
 
 Montgomery smiled incredulously — — 
 
 ‘‘ You are forgetting yourself, Mr. Tyrrell, I sus- 
 pect,” he observed ; ‘‘ and practising upon me some of 
 
 those delusions which you have found ” 
 
 “ Hear me to the end, before you draw so hasty a con- 
 clusion, sir,” interrupted Tyrrell. “I do not promise 
 you wealth and rank — I do not know that it will be in 
 your power to substantiate your claims to those advan- 
 tages — but I do know that your right to them is indis- 
 putable, and I feel myself called upon, by every tie of 
 gratitude and justice, to put you, as I have before said, 
 in possession of the real facts of the case.” 
 
 “ Your mother has acquainted you that you owe your 
 
 birth to an attachment between her and colonel ” 
 
 “ Yes,” interrupted Denzil, indignantly, ‘‘ she has told 
 me that she was barbarously and treacherously betrayed 
 
 but why, Mr. Tyrrell, revive my remembrance of 
 
 circumstances which are calculated to erase every feeling 
 of pity or commiseration for you from my bosom? 
 Think you that I can recollect that to you is owing not 
 only my mother’s disgrace, but the indelible stigma with 
 
 which my own birth is branded ” 
 
 “ But if I can prove to you that that stigma is unde- 
 served — that that disgrace exists only in imagination ?” 
 said Tyrrell. 
 
 Then,” returned Denzil, “ you must disprove all 
 that I hrmly believe — you must convince me that I am 
 not the person I believe myself to be — that I am not the 
 son of Elinor Tyrrell, and the inheritor of his parent’s — ” 
 “Not of Elinor Tyrrell, certainly,” he replied; “for 
 she gave up all claim to that name, when she became the 
 wife of colonel ” 
 
398 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ‘‘ The wife?” reiterated Dehzil. 
 
 Yes. the wife!” repeated Tyrrell. “ Elinor was — is 
 his wife; for her subsequent marriage cannot invalidate 
 the first, though it may prevent her enforcing her claim.” 
 
 But how could this be possible?” exclaimed Denzil, 
 in great agitation; did you not yourself avow that her 
 marriage with my father was illegal — a mere farce, per- 
 formed only to quiet her scruples, and render her subser- 
 vient to your infamous views ?” 
 
 ‘‘ She was persuaded that it was so, certainly,” replied 
 
 Tyrrell, coolly; “but I can prove, beyond a doubt 
 
 nay, her husband well knows that that marriage was a 
 lawful one, performed with every rite and ceremony that 
 could make it so. Elinor’s credulity and inexperience 
 induced her to believe anything that I asserted — but the 
 colonel knew better ; he knew that she was his wife, and 
 he has proved that he considered himself still bound by 
 his obligations to her, by avoiding any second contract, 
 even to this day.” 
 
 “ Is he then living? — and do you know where he is?” 
 exclaimed Denzil, with emotion and surprise. 
 
 “ I believe he is living,” replied Tyrrell; “I know 
 he was, at the time I first saw you in London ; for I had 
 then recently seen him. But, though he rejected with 
 scorn and violence my attempt to interest him in my 
 favour, and to profit by the ties existing between us, 
 
 which I thought he would acknowledge, though he 
 
 spurned me from his presence, and threatened me with 
 vengeance, should I again intrude upon him — I do not 
 think he would reject the claims of his son — of one who 
 would do credit to the name and lineage, which I know 
 his proud heart laments will die with him — for he is the 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 399 
 
 last heir-male, unless your title should be proved, of the 
 house of Alberton 
 
 “ But does he know that he has a son and daughter 
 in existence ?” demanded Denzil. 
 
 “ No,” returned Tyrrell. It was in India that the 
 intelligence reached him of Elinor’s marriage with Mr. 
 Levison, and the events which followed it; but the per- 
 son from whom he learned these circumstances knew 
 nothing, I suppose, of your birth ; for in the short com- 
 munication which I had with him. Lord Alberton (that 
 is now his title,) never once alluded to it — a convincing' 
 proof that he was unacquainted with the most important 
 feature of the case.” 
 
 And does my mother know that he is living, and in 
 England?” demanded Denzil. 
 
 No, I dared not trust her with that secret,” he 
 replied. “ I knew that nothing on earth could have 
 prevented her from seeing him — from at once reproach- 
 ing him for his treachery, and vindicating herself in his 
 eyes; and I felt that my ruin and detection would inevi- 
 tably follow. The influence I had so long exercised over 
 her weak mind would have vanished, when opposed to 
 his — I doubted not, that, though he could never acknow- 
 ledge her as his wife, he would effectually separate hea' 
 from me, and the best that I could have expected would 
 have been abandonment to want and misery. Your pro- 
 mise, which I rely upon with full security, has freed me 
 from this fear, and in return I wish to facilitate, as far as 
 it is possible, your establishment of your rights.” 
 
 Denzil remnined for some time lost in the tumult of 
 hopes and fears, which crowded upon his mind at this 
 extraordinary communication. Could this be real, or 
 
400 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 was it a fabrication of this adept in artifice and deception, 
 to secure more firmly his services and assistance ? 
 
 But to what purpose,” he at length exclaimed, “ to 
 what purpose did you impose upon my mother, by 
 representing that the marriage-tie, which bound her to 
 my father, was false and invalid ? She had, in the first 
 instance, consented to forego the title of his wife, so long 
 as it should be necessary for his interest to conceal their 
 marriage.” 
 
 It is true,” replied Tyrrell, casting down his eyes, 
 unable to meet the keen piercing ones of Denzil, which 
 seemed as if they would look into his very soul ; “ but 
 the chances were greatly against her husband’s ever 
 being able to acknowledge her, wdthout certain ruin to his 
 prospects; and I knew that, while she considered her- 
 self his wife, she would scrupulously retain her affection 
 and fidelity to him.” 
 
 And it was your cool deliberate plan to profit by her 
 renouncing both ? In plain language, to make a market 
 of her beauty, and consign her to destruction, for your 
 profit?” exclaimed Denzil, in a tone of the most bitter 
 reproach. ‘‘ Can it be possible that a heart so base, so 
 villanous, could ever inhabit the bosom of a human 
 creature ?” 
 
 Tyrrell’s dark designing’ countenance for a moment 
 assumed a fierce and deadly expression of rage, at this 
 open and energetic denunciation of his conduct — but it 
 quickly faded, and, in a tone of deep humiliation, he 
 replied — 
 
 I feel I have deserved this, and much more, from 
 yon — but you are a young man, Mr. Montgomer}^ you 
 have hitherto been a prosperous one — you know nothing 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 401 
 
 of the humiliation which a proud spirit feels, under the 
 pressure of poverty and contempt, or of the temptations 
 which beset the upright in the gay world, in which I 
 then mingled. Elinor’s beauty — her superior accom*- 
 plishments — and the vivacity of her manners, secured me 
 many friends, and I solemnly declare that, when I first 
 proposed to secure to myself the full benefit of the advan- 
 tages which her attractions produced, I did not contem- 
 plate but you are incredulous — your looks declare 
 
 that you do not credit me — well, be it so ! My motives 
 now can be of little consequence, they cannot alter 
 facts.” 
 
 It can avail little now, indeed, that I should seek to 
 develope your motives, Mr. Tyrrell,” replied Denzil, 
 with solemnity, of those, your own heart must be tlie 
 umpire; but the awful consequences of the duplicity and 
 selfishness which seem to have been the ruling traits of 
 your conduct, must rise up to condemn you. Even in 
 this world, they have entailed upon you misery and con- 
 tempt — and, in that eternity which awaits you — which a 
 short, a very short time must ” 
 
 Tyrrell started from his seat — a cold dew sat upon his 
 deeply-furrowed brow, and his hands were clasped in 
 agony. 
 
 “ Do not talk to me of eternity !” he exclaimed ; ‘‘ it 
 is a foolish, idle tale — fit only to scare old women and 
 infants ! I have been punished enough for all I have ever 
 done ! When have I ever known peace or happiness ! 
 From the first to the last, have I not been harassed, 
 tormented, hunted from place to place — preyed on by 
 those who were more crafty than myself — and spurned 
 by those who called themselves more honest — and now 
 
 3 F 
 
40!;?, THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 you, eveii you, from whom 1 hoped to find comfort, you 
 would embitter your charity to me by preaching to me 
 of a future state — by trying to conjure up to my view the 
 awful consequences of my errors. They tvere errors — I 
 know and feel they were — for they have failed in mak- 
 ing me what I hoped and expected to be — rich and 
 distinguished ; but, for repentance and futurity, they are 
 bugbears ! 
 
 “ ‘ Tales that the nurse and priest hath taught,’ ” 
 
 he continued, bursting into a laugh which, in DenziPs 
 ears, sounded as harsh and dissonant as mirth from a 
 sepulchre. 
 
 I feel it would be presumptuous in me to attempt to 
 convince you by argument of the truth of what it seems 
 years of just retribution have failed to open your eyes 
 
 to, Mr. Tyrrell,” observed the latter, but ” 
 
 ‘‘ But me — no buts,” interrupted Tyrrell, with 
 assumed levity — levity which tlie ghastly hue of his 
 features, his short laborious breathing, and the irregular 
 and hasty agitation of his step, as he traversed the room, 
 as if in hopes to escape from the images Denzil had con- 
 jured up to his imagination — all painfully and impressively 
 contradicted. I will have no buts on the subject, Mr. 
 Montgomery,” he continued, you must acknowledge I 
 have shewn a strong desire to undo the mischief I 
 admit I have done by my mistaken system. I have 
 humbled myself to the dust before you, in the confession 
 I have made — and I can do no more. Now let us 
 dismiss altogether this subject, and go back to one that, 
 I think, must be infinitely more pleasing to you — and I 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 403 
 
 am sure much more so to me — the means of substantiating 
 your claim.” 
 
 “ I have very remote hopes of that,” returned Denzil. 
 ‘‘The man who could be insensible to the miseries of 
 the woman he had once loved, on whom he had bestowed 
 the sacred title of wife — who could remorselessly con- 
 sign her to poverty and disgrace, without an effort to 
 save her, be her faults what they might — is not very 
 
 likely, 1 think, to receive her children with ” 
 
 You are quite wrong in your premises, Mr. Mont- 
 gomery — Lord Alberton has never rejected Elinor’s 
 claims upon his pity or compassion ! He has never seen 
 her — nay more, I know that he would have made the 
 greatest sacrifices to have discovered her — to have sepa- 
 rated her from me ! It was me, and me alone, who was 
 the subject of his wrath — me, whom nothing but the 
 fear of my publishing the connexion existing between us 
 restrained him from delivering to that which he — which 
 
 men call justice Justice ! Pshaw, the stronger animal 
 
 ever makes the weaker his prey. It is so through all crea- 
 tion — fraud, force, and cunning are lawful engines in the 
 natural world, and the man who cannot possess the goods 
 of this world by fair means, as they are called, is a fool 
 
 to neglect but this doctrine is not agreeable to you, 
 
 Mr. Montgomery — I beg your pardon — I was observmg, 
 that I do not think there is the slightest reason to fear 
 that Lord Alberton would oppose your claims — on the 
 contrary, I have every reason to believe that he would 
 gladly acknowledge them; for one of his most bitter re- 
 proaches to me was, that he was destined perhaps to 
 sink into the grave childless, when, but for my machina- 
 tions, he might have left behind him inheritors ” 
 
4m 
 
 THE GIPSy MOTHER. 
 
 Pardonnez moi! you must forgive me exclaimed 
 the man, who had been DenziPs conductor, rushing into 
 the room. Mon ami, my very good friend,” he ccn- 
 tinued, addressing Tyrrell, ‘‘ you must fly — vite! — quick! 
 — you have not von littel moment to spare. Entrez! 
 entrez /” and, to Denzil’s surprise, he hastily removed a 
 large heavy arm-chair, in which Tyrrell had been seated, 
 drew up a trap-door, which disclosed a long ladder so con- 
 trived as to lead to the roof of the house, and which Tyr- 
 rell instantly ascended, with an agility better suited to 
 the necessity of the case, than his years and apparent 
 infirmities. Tlien, replacing the chair, and throwing 
 himself into it, the adroit Frenchman snatched up a 
 music- book, which laid on the table, and making a sign 
 to Denzil that he should join, commenced singing, in a 
 loud key — — 
 
 “Ah, mon pere, si vous,” &c. 
 
 A loud knocking was at this moment made at the door 
 of the apartment — Ijut he pretended not to hear it. 
 
 Non! non! monsieur !” he exclaimed, in a loud voice, 
 
 you are wrong — quite — a littel wrong — Attend to me ! 
 
 “ Ah, mon pere ” 
 
 The knock was repeated more authoritatively, En- 
 frez! entrez P he exclaimed, without quitting his seat, 
 and retaining the utmost composure of countenance. 
 
 The door was opened, and four gens d’arines entered, 
 and cast an eager glance around the room. 
 
 Mes enfans, hons gar cans, que cherchez vous ? que 
 voulez vous f he demanded, rising, with a look of asto- 
 nishment. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 405 
 
 The men hesitated, again looked around, and then, 
 after surveying Denzil from head to foot, whispered to 
 each other, with a look of disappointment. 
 
 Oest U7i 7nilord Anglais^ a quifenseigne la 7nusiqiie” 
 observed the Frenchman. “ Pardonnez moi, monsieur — 
 I beg you ten, von ten thousand pardons for dis littel 
 interruption — I sal begin de lecon over again, in two, 
 three minutes,” he continued, bowing obsequiously to 
 Denzil, who sat in astonishment at his presence of mind, 
 and total freedom from all embarrassment either in voice 
 or manner. 
 
 ‘‘ Eh hien^ mes aynis^ qu^est ce que vous avez dire he 
 resumed, turning to the officers of justice. 
 
 The men again hesitated — referred to a paper which 
 one of them carried, and which, Denzil rightly conjec- 
 tured, contained a full description of the culprit of whom 
 they were in search, and then beckoning his companion 
 to the landing-place, communicated to him, in a low voice, 
 their errand, and the information they had received, 
 that Tyrrell was in his chamber. 
 
 “ Ah, ah ! ynon chamhre, le voila, entrez, cherchez /” 
 exclaimed the Frenchman, in a tone of the utmost 
 apparent candour, and throwing back the door to its 
 utmost stretch, as if to invite their scrutiny. 
 
 The men gave another glance around the room — but 
 there was nothing there that could conceal a fulFgrown 
 cat, much less a tall, athletic man, as Tyrrell was des- 
 cribed to be ; neither could they suppose that he could, 
 by any metamorphosis, have assumed the shape and 
 features of a handsome youth, such as milord Anglais 
 indisputably was ; and, therefore, after another parley, 
 in which the owner of the apartment seemed rather less 
 
406 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 disposed to be polite, and inclined to remonstrate on the 
 interruption and offence their appearance was likely to 
 give to his pupil, they very deliberately walked down 
 stairs. 
 
 The Frenchman shut the door, shrugging his shoul- 
 ders up to his ears, and walked on tip-toe back to his 
 seat, observing, in a low tone 
 
 ‘‘ OA, mm, dieu ! mon pauvre ami ! — my good friend ! 
 If they should catch him 
 
 But he is safe for the present, is he not?’’ demanded 
 Denzil, who had witnessed this scene with no small 
 degree of perturbation — Bad as he was, and richly as he 
 deserved the utmost vengeance of the laws he had so 
 heinously violated, the wretched Tyrrell excited, at this 
 moment, only feelings of pity and compassion in his 
 bosom ; and that he might live to repent, and, as far as 
 it was possible, atone for the crimes he had committed, 
 was his earnest wish and prayer. 
 
 He looked earnestly in the face of his companion for 
 an answer to his question — but the attention of the latter 
 was riveted to some noise which appeared to proceed 
 from the staircase, and, with evident symptoms of alarm, 
 lie Avhispered 
 
 ‘‘ Ah^ mon dieu^ Us rev lens ! they are coming back — 
 tout est perdu /” 
 
 The noise, however, passed away — and Denzil, recol- 
 lecting himself, observed — It is of no use my remain- 
 ing here — your friend and you, monsieur, both know 
 where I am to be found, and you will choose your own 
 method of communicating with me.” 
 
 The man commenced a long harangue, in which his 
 own promptitude, adroitness, and fidelity to his friend, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 40T 
 
 were intermiiigled with oblique hints of his own poverty, 
 and his consequent inability to assist his dear and 
 respectable’’ friend, Mr. Tyrrell — a theme which was 
 soon converted into the most lavish expressions of grati- 
 tude, and assurances that he would devote all his powers, 
 mind and body, to his service, when Denzil slipped a 
 gold louis d’or into his hand; and the latter, heartily 
 rejoiced to escape from his society and unmeaning 
 volubility, hastily descended the dark and dirty staircase, 
 and returned home. 
 
 — — 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 For she had known adversity, 
 
 Though born in such a high degree. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 The surprising information which he had received from 
 Tyrrell, had, for a time, banished from the mind of 
 Denzil, the uneasiness he had felt at the sudden departure 
 of his friends ; but the sight of the empty apartments, 
 which they had so lately occupied, recalled, in its fullest 
 extent, his regret for this circumstance. Pie felt, too, 
 how valuable would have been Mr. Levison’s advice and 
 assistance, in investigating the truth of Tyrrell’s affirma- 
 tions — for, once satisfied that the latter had finally accom- 
 plished his retreat from France, he should have no longer 
 hesitated to reveal to him every particular connected 
 with that wretched individual. It was an absolute duty. 
 
408 
 
 THE GIPSY AIOTHER, 
 
 too. on his part, to coinmimieate to Fanny the new pros- 
 pects that were opened to her, and confer with her as to 
 what steps should be taken. 
 
 Such, he knew, was her affection for Mr. Levison, 
 that she might probably object to any measure that 
 would have the effect of removing her from his care ; 
 but if, after all, she should not be what he (Denzil) 
 had been led to believe her ? — Should she really be Mr. 
 Levison’s daughter this would at once have com- 
 
 pelled a clear explanation — would have forced Mr. Levi- 
 son into an abandonment of all mystery, and have 
 decided all doubts on both sides. 
 
 And now,” he exclaimed, “ by his precipitation I 
 am left again to suffer the pangs and misery of suspense 
 — to endure, for I know not how long, the wretchedness 
 of being unable to decide on that which a few words 
 from him could and would set at rest for ever !” 
 
 Again and again, as he took the route to his mother’s 
 lodgings, he canvassed in his mind the probabilities which 
 existed that he had been all along in error, and that his 
 mother was deceived in supposing Fanny to be her 
 daughter. 
 
 He could recal no expression of Mr. Levison’s from 
 which he could infer that the latter even meant to 
 insinuate that he was not her father. The objections 
 which he had spoken of, as opposing an insuperable bar 
 to their union, in that conference which had terminated 
 in banishing him (Denzil) from England, might hare 
 alluded to the disgraceful circumstances attending his 
 birth, and not have borne any reference to that of 
 Fanny. 
 
 Never had Mr. Levison spoken of her in any other 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 409 
 
 terms but as his daughter. Again, he recollected how 
 often the latter had spoken to Fanny of her mother — 
 and had declared her to be the living image of one, 
 whose premature death had involved him in the deepest 
 affliction. He had even presented Fanny with a ring, in 
 which was set a lock of beautiful light hair, and which 
 had been separated from some which he wore himself in 
 a brooch, and which he had repeatedly told the weeping 
 girl, had been cut by himself from her mother’s head 
 after her death — All this could not be false — could not 
 be deliberate delusion. No, he must be mad to doubt 
 it ! — Fanny was — she must be — the daughter of his 
 benefactor, and he should yet be happy, superlatively 
 happy ! 
 
 The animation that sparkled in his eyes, as he entered 
 his mother’s apartment, at once excited her attention and 
 curiosity. 
 
 Flave you seen him ?” she demanded. 
 
 Denzil’s thoughts were immediately recalled to the 
 important communications which had been the result of 
 that interview. Fie looked at the pale and haggard face, 
 which was bent towards him with the utmost eagerness 
 and curiosity, and was for the first time deeply struck 
 with the necessity of using extreme caution, in commu- 
 nicating to her the surprising intelligence which he had 
 received. 
 
 Having, therefore, first assured her of the safety of 
 the unworthy man for whom she was so anxious, he led 
 her, by degrees, to speak of his past conduct towards her, 
 and then insinuated a doubt whether, if he were really 
 her father, he could have so entirely dismissed all feeling 
 from his heart, as to deliberately plan her ruin. 
 
 3 G 
 
410 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 It was not, however, until he had a second time ex- 
 pressed this doubt, that she replied to it 
 
 ‘‘ Alas, would to heaven that I could reasonably enter- 
 tain a doubt of his being my father!” she observed; 
 «but ” 
 
 “ I have reason to think that you have a right to en- 
 tertain those doubts,” interrupted Denzil; ‘‘in fact, 
 there are many circumstances connected with your past 
 life, in which I believe you have been grossly misled and 
 deceived ; and, be assured, that one, not of the least im- 
 portance (since it has been the foundation of every other 
 error) has been your believing that man to be your 
 father, and suffering him to usurp an influence over your 
 mind, which ” 
 
 “You have received some information from him !” she 
 exclaimed, her eyes kindling with hope and expectation. 
 
 “ Yes, I am sure he has acknowledged ” 
 
 “ He has, indeed, my dear mother, acknowledged 
 many circumstances which will surprise you, not less 
 than his frank avowal that he has no right to that title of 
 which he has made such a base and vile advantage.” 
 
 “And he has avowed it, then?” she exclaimed, clasp- 
 ing her hands with ecstasy. Oh God, of what a load 
 
 is my heart relieved ! But how tell me, my dear 
 
 child, satisfy my impatience by explaining ” 
 
 As nearly as possible, Denzil repeated, in Tyrrell’s 
 own words, his detail of the deception he had practised 
 towards her, from the time she had been committed to 
 his care, and confirmed it by placing in her hands the 
 documents of her birth, which at once obliterated the 
 fear which, during the surprising narrative, she had 
 ventured to express, that this was but a feigned tale — 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 411 
 
 a remnant of his old habits of cunning and deception, and 
 meant to answer some hidden and artful purpose. 
 
 Convinced, however, beyond a doubt, that she was 
 free from all ties to that being, towards whom she had 
 felt a sentiment of abhorrence which his conduct fully 
 deserved — but for which her heart had often reproached 
 her with, as being unnatural towards the author of her 
 being — the unfortunate Avoman gave utterance to the 
 most fervent expressions of joy and gratitude. 
 
 There are other circumstances,” observed her son, 
 ‘‘which he has revealed to me, that, although equally 
 surprising with what I have just related, I as firmly 
 believe to be true. I will not keep you in suspense, but 
 at once inform you that they relate to your first, I may 
 say your only marriage — for if, as I believe, nay, as I 
 am convinced, you were legally and indissolubly united 
 to my father, the subsequent engagements you have 
 formed are without doubt void.” 
 
 Elinor listened to him with breathless attention, as he 
 repeated Tyrrell’s affirmation that the ceremony, which 
 had made her at the time so superlatively happy, had 
 been really and duly performed, and that she was still 
 the wife of the only man she had ever loved, or regarded 
 as a husband. 
 
 Her replies to Denzil’s earnest questions — her recol- 
 lections of all that had passed at the time, confirmed 
 what Tyrrell had asserted; and her son became con- 
 vinced that the latter had told the truth, and that his 
 father had in that instance acted consistently with his 
 former character, though he had afterwards deviated 
 from it, lured by the temptations which the cupidity of 
 Tyrrell had thrown in his way, in suggesting the prac- 
 ticability of denying his marriage. 
 
412 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 There was nothing-, at first view, in this information, 
 Avhich could convey pleasure to the unfortunate Elinor ; 
 on the contrary, deep and bitter regret and despair, at 
 the recollection of the insuperable bar which her subse- 
 quent conduct had placed between her and the object of 
 her fond affections — the husband of her choice — for a 
 time absorbed all other feelings. 
 
 ‘‘ Of what avail is it to me, to know that I have my- 
 self destroyed every hope of that happiness, which I 
 might have enjoyed?’’ she exclaimed. ‘‘ How can I re- 
 joice that I am the wife of one, whom I dare not claim 
 as my husband, and who, perhaps, hourly curses the tie 
 which has brought upon him nothing but distress and 
 misery ! Oh, with what pride would he now, freed from 
 all restraints, hav^e acknowledged his wife and children, 
 those children who must now bear the stain of a dis- 
 honourable birth — who dare not claim their father ! — 
 Oh, my son, how can you look upon me without abhor- 
 rence, without detesting the wretch who has brought 
 such evils upon you?” 
 
 Because I feel that yours have been errors of the 
 head, not of the heart,” replied Denzil, with great emo- 
 tion ; ‘‘ because I am convinced that circumstances, evil 
 precept, and evil example, have made you what your 
 natural disposition would have led you to avoid. Oh, 
 no — the world may condemn — ‘even he who should have 
 shielded you from every evil, instead of abandoning ^mu 
 to the guidance of one whom he had proved to be a vil- 
 lain even he may contemn and reject you, but my 
 
 my mother shall ever find in me an advocate — a friend — 
 a son !” 
 
 Tlie tears, which fell in torrents on his hand, which 
 she held fast clasped in hers, alone spoke the gratitude of 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 413 
 
 the poor mourner; but more tranquil moments suc- 
 ceeded, and with comparative easiness she discussed with 
 him the probability that Lord Alberton would be dis- 
 posed to investigate and acknowledge the claims of his 
 children, if they were brought before his notice. 
 
 Denzil’s heart throbbed with violence, as his mother 
 several times alluded to his sister^ as possessing an equal 
 right with himself to the benefits which would arise from 
 an acknowledgment of their birth. 
 
 Has it ever occurred to you,” he at length, with a 
 faltering voice, observed, I say, my dear mother, has 
 such a thought never entered your mind, as to doubt that 
 
 Fanny may not be 1 mean, that it is possible she is, 
 
 after all, the daughter of Mr. Levison ? I have,” he con- 
 tinued, gaining more confidence as he proceeded, ‘‘ been 
 deeply considering the subject — have been recalling to 
 my recollection many, very many circumstances, which 
 seem to place it beyond a doubt that she is really what she 
 is said to be — his daughter ; and that either my sister is 
 no longer in existence, or that she is differently situated. 
 You have no proof of Fanny’s being your child, beyond 
 the similarity of ages, and her being under the care of 
 him, who, though he has been a liberal benefactor to me, 
 has never pretended that I possessed any claims of 
 relationship. I cannot, indeed, trace the slightest per- 
 sonal resemblance between either you and Fanny, or 
 between her and me; while, on the contrary, I have 
 often seen a strong likeness in her countenance to Mr. 
 Levison’s, especially in her smile, which is the counterpart 
 of his. Her features, complexion, and hair, I have heard 
 him many times say, were the counterpart of her mother’s, 
 yet they bear no similitude to yours; besides, he never 
 
414 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 saw you, and, surely, he would never deliberately con- 
 trive a tale, without a shadow of foundation — indeed, I 
 have other proofs, which lead to a conclusion that she is 
 not your child.” 
 
 With earnest attention his mother listened to every 
 thing he could urge, to prove to her that which his 
 happiness depended on proving to himself, and which he 
 considered almost fully established by her admitting that 
 she had little to oppose to his statement, beyond, as he 
 had said, the similarity of ages, and the circumstance 
 of nothing’ being known with certainty of Fanny’s 
 birth. ^ 
 
 The most conclusive evidence, however, as she 
 observed, was Mr. Levison’s resentment, at Denzil’s 
 allusion to Fanny’s birth ; and sincerely did she lament, 
 with her son, that that resentment had prompted the 
 former to such a hasty proceeding, at a moment when a 
 few words hlight have cleared away all mystery. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Oh, what a sign it is of evil life, 
 
 When death’s approach is seen so terrible ! 
 
 Shakespere. 
 
 The temporary embarrassment which Denzil had expe- 
 rienced from the want of money, had been removed by 
 the friendly intervention of Mr. St. George, who, upon a 
 slight hint from Ned, had called, and without hesitation 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 415 
 
 proffered his services. He had also exerted himself to 
 the utmost, in endeavouring to discover the road which 
 Mr. Levison had taken ; and had altogether shewn so 
 great a disposition to serve him, that Denzil hesitated 
 not to confide to him the interest he felt in the fate of 
 Tyrrell, and his anxiety to forward the latter’s escape 
 from France. 
 
 To Denzil’s great surprise and mortification, he dis- 
 covered that St. George was almost as minutely acquaint- 
 ed with his connexion with that individual as he was 
 himself; and his countenance forcibly expressed those 
 feelings, as he listened to the advice which St. George gave 
 him, to interfere, as little and as secretly as possible, in 
 the affairs of one whose character was notorious for every 
 species of villany. 
 
 I will tell you, at once,” he observed, “ how my 
 acquaintance with this man originated, and prove to you, 
 if you do not already know it, that he is totally unworthy 
 of sympathy. 
 
 “ It will be unnecessary for me to relate any particu- 
 lars of my early life to you — it will be sufficient that, in 
 my twentieth year, I unexpectedly succeeded to a hand- 
 some fortune, by the fortuitous deaths of half a dozen 
 intermediate heirs, who had stood between me and it, 
 and had prevented either me or any one else contem- 
 plating it as coming within the scale of possibilities. Some 
 circumstances during my boyhood had introduced me to 
 the family of Mr. Delaney — I will not say it was on a 
 footing of equality that I was admitted to be an occasional 
 companion of the heir of that respectable name, to make 
 up one of a set, when the young ladies and their friends 
 wished to form a dance, and to sit at the lower end of 
 
416 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 the table, and smilingly hear the jests and sarcasms 
 of my superiors at the upper end, which were 
 generally levied at the inconsistency of my threadbare 
 Sunday suit, with the pretensions of my name and 
 family. 
 
 “ I should never have submitted to all this, but my 
 mother, poor woman, had somehow or other formed 
 great expectations from Mr. Delaney’s friendship and 
 high connexions, which he had talked of till I believe he 
 actually fancied he did possess them, and that it entirely 
 depended on him to make my fortune. 
 
 “ I had never had any thing to complain of in Dela- 
 ney’s personal treatment of me. His maxim that ‘ civility 
 costs nothing, but may gain something,’ alwa3"s prevented 
 him from the commission of any indecorum ; but from the 
 other members of his family, with the exception of Julia, 
 wdio for some years resided in Dublin with a relation, I 
 had sustained many bitter affronts, which rankled in my 
 heart, and which only my poor mother’s prayers and 
 entreaties induced me to smother. But the scene changed 
 — unexpectedly I became the possessor of twelve hundred 
 a year, and the most distinguished guest at Mr. Delaney’s 
 table. 
 
 ‘‘ I was young — not naturally revengeful, nor very 
 apt to assign a bad motive for an action, when a good 
 
 one was pretended and far from suspecting the 
 
 Delaneys of sinister views in their patronage of me, and 
 the pains they took to reconcile me to the loss of my 
 mother, who died from excess of joy at seeing her 
 darling son elevated to what she considered his proper 
 rank in society. 
 
 “ ‘ Habit does much!’ I had been all my life so habitu- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 417 
 
 ated to look upon Mr. Delaney as my patron and coun- 
 sellor, that I submitted to his guidance in every point of 
 view — became completely domesticated in his house, left 
 all my affairs to his management, and finalty, fell despe- 
 rately in love, as it was intended I should, with his eldest 
 daughter — the all-subduing, all-accomplished Julia — who 
 was sent for home for the purpose; and, immediately on 
 seeing me, resolved on relinquishing a baronet, who was 
 dying for her, and sitting down contented as the wife of 
 a country gentleman. 
 
 “ Such was the tale with which I was fool enoup'h to 
 
 O 
 
 be gulled, and, by means of which, I suffered myself to 
 be robbed and fleeced with impunity; but I was ulti- 
 mately rescued from their clutches. Some affairs con- 
 nected with Tyrrell came to my knowledge; I was 
 shocked at the thought of forming a near connexion 
 with such a man; but I was still more shocked at the 
 callousness they displayed towards him, and especially his 
 unhappy daughter, who, I knew, was treated by them 
 with great harshness; but these feelings were increased 
 tenfold when I discovered that Tyrrell’s first errors had 
 originated with Delaney, and that he had been most un- 
 gratefully and unmercifully treated by the latter. 
 
 ‘‘ Some circumstances, which came to light through 
 the medium of a servant whom she had offended, as to 
 Julia’s conduct during her residence in Dublin, com- 
 pleted the unfavourable bias which my mind had taken. 
 
 I resolved I would not be a dupe to an unprincipled and 
 artful woman — but I dissembled these feelings, and con- 
 trived to delay the marriage, which was fixed for the 
 follov/ing week, by feigning indisposition. 
 
 ‘‘ I am tiring you by this minute detail, but T will 
 
 3 H 
 
418 
 
 THE TtIPSY mother. 
 
 abridge it, and tell you that 1 escaped the snare laid for 
 me, at the expense of more than a year’s produce of my 
 income, and have ever since been the object of hatred 
 and vengeance to the whole of the family of the Delaneys. 
 
 “ In the course of this affair I became acquainted with 
 the unhappy Elinor Tyrrell — her misfortunes, and her 
 extraordinary beauty and accomplishments excited my 
 warmest sympathy, I would have made any sacrifice to 
 have rescued her from the misery she was in — but her 
 father’s bad conduct defeated every thing, and I was 
 obliged to leave her to her fate — for she would not sepa- 
 rate herself from him. I could not relate to you in 
 twenty-four hours the schemes and artifices that he was 
 continually practising upon my credulity, to draw money 
 from me, which was immediately lavished away with the 
 most reckless prodigality, until, at length, completely 
 tired out, I gave up all connexion with him, and took 
 every precaution that they should not find me out; but 
 it seemed as if fate had determined to throw them in my 
 way. In London, I again encountered them, and though 
 I then relieved their necessities, I was again made the 
 victim to a pretty considerable amount — the old man 
 having contrived to raise money in my name, with 
 which he decamped, leaving me to curse my own credu- 
 lity and misplaced humanity, which made me continually 
 his dupe. 
 
 “ I then vowed, that, were it to save his life, I would 
 never again stretch forth a hand to save him — but destiny 
 was against me. I came here, and was immediately 
 marked out as a prey by a set of sharpers, one of whom 
 I had known as a visitor at Delaney’s table, in his native 
 country. A regular plan was laid for my ruin; and that 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 419 
 
 I was enabled to defeat it, was owing to the gratitude 
 and vigilance of Elinor Tyrrell, who having overheard 
 my name mentioned, set herself to work to trace out the 
 designs of the confederates, and gave such undeniable 
 proofs of their villany, as enabled me completely to defeat 
 them, and placed them entirely at my mercy. 
 
 ‘‘ I was not, you may depend upon it, ungrateful for 
 this service ; — and, though I could not rescue her from 
 her degraded situation — though I knew it was hopeless 
 to suppose that I could materially benefit her — I have 
 always befriended her, and secretly contrived to ame- 
 liorate her wretched situation, without coming in con- 
 tact with the wretch whom she has the misfortune to call 
 her father. 
 
 “ At the time of the affair whi^ introduced me to you, 
 I was, of course, compelled to secrete myself while you 
 were in danger ; and, as I knew no one whom I could 
 depend upon so well as her, or who was so fertile in 
 resources to avoid discovery, I flew to her, and com- 
 municated what had happened ; but you may imagine my 
 surprise when I discovered, from her despairing excla- 
 mations, that you were an object of peculiar interest to 
 her. She acknowledged,, in short, who you were, and 
 thus excited in my bosom a still greater interest than 
 your frankness and inexperienee had previously kindled.” 
 
 Denzil heard this detail with mingled feelings of sur- 
 prise and mortification ; but he hastened to undeceive St. 
 George, as to the relationship between Tyrrell and his 
 mother, observing that she was now totally released from 
 all connexion with the latter. 
 
 ‘‘ Hang the old rascal, then !” exclaimed the latter, 
 
 I would e’en let him take his chance, and not trouble 
 
420 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 myself any more about him, were I in your place. He 
 well deserves any punishment that can fall upon him, and 
 it is scarcely doing your duty to society, to aid him to 
 escape it !” 
 
 Denzil could not deny the truth of this observation, 
 but he had pledged himself to assist the miserable wretch 
 who was the subject of it, and who he still hoped 
 would live to repent, and expiate the crimes he had been 
 guilty of. 
 
 He was still meditating on this subject, when Ned 
 announced that a man, who had something of importance 
 to communicate, wished to see Mr. Montgomery ; and 
 on being desired to admit him, the Frenchman, from 
 whose apartments Tyrrell had so recently made his escape, 
 entered the room. 
 
 “ Ah, monsieur !” he exclaimed, in a pathetic tone, 
 and clasping his hands with an expression of the deepest 
 sorrow. It is all over! Mon pauvre ami! my good 
 friend Tyrrell ! ” 
 
 ‘‘ Is he taken?” said Denzil, hastily. 
 
 Non^ non — but it is worse — much worse — an accident 
 has arrived to him, and what is to become of me ? Miser- 
 able that I am — it will be discovered that he was in my 
 apartment, and I shall be ruined ! My character will 
 suffer ! Tout la monde will accuse me of being his con- 
 federate, and ” 
 
 How can that be, if he has not been discovered ?” 
 interrupted Denzil, with impatience ; “ why do you not 
 at once explain- ” 
 
 ‘‘ That I sail do, if monsieur will have the goodness 
 to listen to me,” replied the man. “ Well — monsieur 
 will please to recollect that monsieur and son tres 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 421 
 
 humble serviteur — his most humble servant, was alarmed 
 with a noise, and that 
 
 ^‘Do, pray, tell me at once what has happened ex- 
 claimed Denzil, ‘‘ is Tyrrell dead 
 
 “ He is not dead,’^ replied the man, ‘‘but, Helas f a short 
 time will see him close his eyes for ever — and in my 
 apartment, too ! — He is dying, monsieur, dying ! — and 
 
 I dare not reveal what has ” 
 
 “You have not surely left him to perish without as- 
 sistance ?” said Denzil, shuddering. 
 
 “ Helas ! monsieur, it is too late — but he has implored 
 
 for you to come to him, and ” 
 
 Denzil waited not for the request to be repeated, but, 
 Avithout a moment’s hesitation, declared his readiness to 
 go instantly. 
 
 “ Ah, I am lost ! — I am lost, if I return Avith 
 you !” exclaimed the man, in an accent of despair ; “ the 
 
 alarm Avill be given, and I shall not escape 
 
 “ Remain here, then,” replied Denzil, hastily ; “ the 
 life of a felloAv-creature must not be sacrificed, guilty as 
 he is, to your fears for yourself and, Avithout Availing for 
 a reply, he hastened out of the house. 
 
 The necessity of having* immediate medical assistance 
 occurred to his mind, before he had proceeded many 
 paces, and he therefore first bent his course to the sur- 
 geon’s, under Avhose care his mother was residing. 
 
 Fortunately he was at home, and instantly ready to 
 obey the call of one whose liberality he had experienced, 
 and, Avithout further delay, they proceeded to the house, 
 which Denzil easily recognised. 
 
 Without hesitation or inquiry, Denzil ascended at once 
 to the room, and, extended on a miserable pallet, beheld 
 
422 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 the wretched Tyrrell, groaning- in the agonies of death, but 
 perfectly sensible of his wretched situation. 
 
 “ Are you come to save me ?” he exclaimed. “ Oh, do 
 not let me die ! — I cannot die ! 1 am not fit to die !’’ 
 
 Denzil tried to tranquillise him, and to learn from him 
 what had happened. 
 
 “ That wretch Fran9ois,” he exclaimed with difficulty, 
 ‘‘but for him I might have been saved — but he left me, 
 left me to perish !” 
 
 By degrees they learned that he had missed his footing, 
 just as he gained the top of the ladder, which would have 
 enabled him to escape over the roofs of the houses — that 
 he had fallen with such violence in the secret recess 
 through which Denzil had seen him escape, that he had 
 been for a considerable time completely insensible to 
 what had taken place — and that Avhen he recovered his 
 senses, and called upon Fran9ois for help, the latter had 
 left the apartment, to which he did not return during the 
 whole night ; and the wretched Tyrrell had been left in- 
 closed in this small space for nearly twenty-four hours, 
 suflPering not only from the dreadful pain of the injuries 
 he had received, but from the horrible belief that his col- 
 league in crime had designedly left him there to perish. 
 
 “If there is a hell, I have tasted its torments this 
 night!” exclaimed the wretched man; “ not even a drop of 
 water to moisten my lips I And my brain — my brain is 
 on fire !” 
 
 Every assistance and comfort that humanity could 
 devise, was quickly procured by Denzil’s active exertions 
 for the miserable sufferer; but it was all too late. The 
 injuries he had received were not of themselves mortal; 
 but his former intemperate life — the neglect of timely 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 423 
 
 assistance — and the violent irritation of his ungovernable 
 temper — all contributed to make them so. At one moment 
 he furiously rejected the assistance of the surgeon, and 
 all around him, violently demanding “ brandy !” to lull 
 the excruciating pain of body and mind that he endured, 
 and the next, he abjectly implored them to do any 
 thing with him to save his life ; to prolong it, if it were 
 but for a month, a week, or a day; and then again he re- 
 lapsed into raving and fury, because they would not give 
 him that which he required. 
 
 One among the attendants, whom the assurance of 
 the doctor that they would be well rewarded for their 
 trouble had brought, suggested that a priest should be 
 sent for, to administer the necessary offices of religion 
 to the dying sinner; and Denzil, eager to catch at any- 
 thing that might afford consolation, and tranquillise the 
 mind of the sufferer, instantly acquiesced in the sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 In a short time, a mild and respectable-looking man 
 entered the apartment; and, after a few preparatory in- 
 quiries, intimated his wish to be left alone with the dying 
 man. The latter, however, no sooner understood the 
 purport of this visit, than he burst into a torrent of fu- 
 rious invective, which, united with his ghastly and terrific 
 appearance, every feature being disfigured with the bruises ^ 
 he had received, and distorted with agony, created a 
 sensation of horror in those who surrounded him. 
 
 Do not come to torment me with your canting tales 
 of heaven and hell !” he exclaimed. “ What good 
 can you do me, now? It is too late, if your creed is 
 
 true! But I deny it there is no such thing! — This 
 
 world, these pains, are all I have to fear, — and you are 
 
424 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 determined to make me suffer — you will not help me ! 
 What evidence is there against me ! I did not murder 
 her — he can tell you that she is alive; and, as to the 
 other, it is all past and gone — you cannot prove it, I defy 
 you to prove it ! Why should I confess, then, that you 
 may glory in adding to my torments ?” 
 
 Denzil saw that his senses were fast falling; and the 
 priest, retiring from the bed-side, exclaimed — 
 
 ‘‘ Alas, this is a fearful sight ! I fear my presence can 
 do little good — but I will remain, and see whether he re- 
 covers his recollection.” 
 
 From this moment, however, Tyrrell seemed to have 
 lost all consciousness of the present, and to be incessantly 
 occupied with harrowing recollections of the past; and 
 Denzil shuddered as he heard him, in a tone that sunk 
 lower and lower, until it became almost Indistinct, utter 
 at one moment the most blasphemous imprecations, and 
 in the next, the most piteous supplications for mercy, 
 until his strength totally failed under the conflict ; and he 
 lay, with no other symptom of life than the convulsive 
 gasp, and wild catching with his hands, which denoted 
 the struggle was nearly over. 
 
 I can be of no farther service,” he whispered to the 
 surgeon, who remained with the priest, while the latter 
 bent over the dying man, and held a small crucifix to his 
 lips---^‘ I can do no good by remaining, but you will let 
 me know ” 
 
 The surgeon bowed his head in affirmation, and 
 Denzil left the room ; but as he closed the door, a shriek, 
 the most dreadful that could be uttered by a human voice, 
 arrested his attention, — he paused for a moment or two, 
 and the doctor came out to him. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 425 
 
 “ It is all over !” he exclaimed, and his guilty soul 
 has fled, with ’’ 
 
 Denzil rushed away from him~he wished not to hear 
 the conclusion of the sentence — he had already heard too 
 much — and he shuddered with horror as he exclaimed — 
 Such, then, is the end of one, who, with the posses- 
 sion of talents which might have rendered him happy, 
 and benefited his fellow-creatures, was yet miserable him- 
 self, and the source of misery to others. But who shall 
 set limits to the mercy of God ? May his last sufferings — 
 the misery which he himself acknowledged had been his 
 constant attendant, even when his vices have triumphed 
 outwardly, be his expiation, and plead for him at that 
 great tribunal to which he has now gone !” 
 
 It has been remarked, that in no city in the world is so 
 little regard paid to, or so little value set on human life, 
 as in Paris. Circumstances attending the loss of it, which 
 would in other places excite the greatest interest, be sub- 
 mitted to the strictest examination, and become the subject 
 of universal sympathy, are there passed over as every-day 
 occurrences ; and, beyond the immediate circle of friends 
 and relatives, are scarcely known. 
 
 Such was the case in the present instance of Tyrrell; 
 and Denzil (who had anticipated, with no trifling uneasi- 
 ness, the being called upon to account for circumstances, 
 and compelled to make disclosures, which, though no 
 other consequence could arise to him, would have the 
 effect of making himself and his mother objects of public 
 notoriety,) was surprised to find that no farther demands 
 were made upon him, except a rather exorbitant demand 
 on his purse, for the expenses of sepulture. 
 
 Fran9ois, the colleague in iniquity of the wretched 
 
 3 I 
 
426 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Tyrrell, having received some trifling assistance from 
 Denzil, quitted Paris, with the avowed determination of 
 returning to the place of his birth, and reforming his evil 
 courses ; and Denzil was thus freed from his last source 
 of uneasiness, on account of one with whom he wished all 
 traces of his connexion to be buried in oblivion. 
 
 The intelligence of Tyrrell’s death, which Denzil com- 
 municated to her who had so long regarded that unhappy 
 man as her only parent, was a considerable shock ; but 
 the constant attention of her son, and the prospect of 
 being freed from all care and anxiety for the future, by 
 degrees restored her to tranquillity. Her health, too, 
 rapidly amended, and Denzil began to feel the necessity 
 of forming some decided plan for his future life. 
 
 To return to England, as soon as his mother was suf- 
 ficiently re-established to travel, appeared the wisest 
 course he could pursue. It was scarcely probable that 
 Mr. Levison would remain long absent from his home, 
 though he (Denzil) had many reasons to believe that 
 that gentleman did not leave Paris with an intention of 
 proceeding thitlier. At all events. Lord Alberton was 
 in England, if Tyrrell’s statement was at all to be depended 
 upon ; and that was sufficient to decide Denzil, that it 
 was advisable to return thither. 
 
 He was revolving this subject in his mind, when Mr. St. 
 George, who was now upon terms of great intimacy with 
 him, entered the room. 
 
 have just seen a fresh importation from England,” 
 he observed; ‘‘and, if I mistake not, one in which you 
 have some interest.” 
 
 “ Me !” replied Denzil, starting, the idea of Lord Al- 
 berton being fresh on his mind. There are few,” he 
 continued, “ I believe from thence, that could ” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTIIEP. 
 
 427 
 
 “ Has not Mr. Levison a son ?” demanded St. 
 George. 
 
 “ No — he has a nephew ; but what of him ? It cannot 
 surely be Charles !” 
 
 That is the very person — Charles Levison, Esq. 
 I read the name, in good legible characters, on his bag- 
 gage, while the porters were contending for the honour 
 of carrying it, though, for the size and weight of it, a 
 sturdy Englishman might very well have dangled it on 
 his finger and thumb to the Custom House, whither it is 
 gone, with its owner.” 
 
 He is alone, then?” observed Denzil, taking up his 
 hat, to go instantly in search of the friend and companion 
 of his childhood. 
 
 St. George replied in the affirmative — “ But had you 
 not better remain here ?” h.e continued ; “ for you may 
 probably have some difficulty in meeting with him, while 
 you may be assured he will soon find you out.” 
 
 Denzil’s impatience could scarcely-yield to this sugges- 
 tion — something of importance, he thought, must have 
 occasioned Charles to have come over alone, and appa- 
 rently without any intention of remaining, as Le certainly 
 would not have been without baggage and attendants. If 
 that had been the case. His conjectures, however, wore 
 soon terminated by the entrance of Charles himself. 
 
 ‘‘ So, here you are !” he exclaimed, with his usual 
 nonchalame, ‘‘ I have had a pretty hunt for you — but 
 where is my uncle ? I understand he is not with you, 
 but, wherever he' is, I must see him — for he and I 
 must have a serious reckoning, I can tell him — I will no 
 longer submit to be treated like a child !” 
 
 Mr, St. George quitted the room. 
 
428 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHEK. 
 
 ‘‘ Is that your friend Delaney, that you wrote so much 
 about demanded Charles, looking after him, and 
 seeming to forget, in a moment, his cause of irritation 
 and complaint ; “ but I forgot,” he continued, before 
 Denzil could have time to utter a negative to his ques- 
 tion; I forgot you were parted — I saw something 
 about your affair of honour in the newspapers ; but they 
 first said you were both killed, and then that only one, 
 either you or he, I forget which — and then that you were 
 only both wounded — and so I thought that, after all, 
 perhaps it was not an affair of much consequence.” 
 
 ‘‘ It would not, perhaps, have been of much conse- 
 quence, if the first report had been the true one,” 
 observed Denzil, smiling, but we will pass to affairs that 
 are of consequence. How is Mrs. Charles Levison? 
 and how comes it that I see you here without her ?” 
 
 “ Oh, Emma — she was very well when I left her 
 yesterday,” he replied : “ but she is gone down to Cum- 
 berland to see her- mother, and so I have taken the 
 opportunity for a trip, to find out what you are all doing 
 here.” 
 
 And is your anxiety to see your old friends, your 
 only motive for this journey?” demanded Denzil, who 
 fancied he discovered, in Charles’s usually placid counte- 
 nance, traces of care and uneasiness, which were new to 
 him. 
 
 “ No, not exactly, I confess,” he replied, but the 
 truth is, Denzil — and I will at once tell you the truth, 
 because, I know, nobody will make more allowances for 
 me, or sooner lend a hand to assist me, than yourself — 
 the real fiict is, that I have got myself into a confounded 
 hobble in London, and I did not know what better to do. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEU. 
 
 429 
 
 than to run away from it altogether — anti see whether I 
 could prevail on my uncle to listen to reason, and help 
 me out of it.” 
 
 “ Then you have got into debt, I suppose ?” observed 
 Denzil. 
 
 “ Debt ! yes, how could I help it, with such a miserly 
 allowance as five hundred a year? — I could not bear to 
 refuse Emma anything, and she, poor girl, thought her 
 mother would not hold out long in her resentment — so 
 we took a furnished house at five guineas a week, and 
 then we could not do without a carriage and servants; 
 and then, through a cousin of Emma, who lives in great 
 style, we got introduced into very good company, and 
 this brought on many expenses — but it is of no use my 
 boring you to death with a long rigmarole — the long 
 and the short of the matter is, that we have got into such 
 embarrassments, that if I had not made the best of my way 
 here, and sent Emma off to the country, I should have 
 been in a prison, and she would have been without a 
 house to put her head into; but, hang long faces! — it is of 
 no use to fret for what can’t be helped — my uncle must 
 come down handsomely at once, and so I shall tell him — 
 but I want you to break the matter to him first.” 
 
 I wish it were in my power to do so,” replied Den- 
 zil, sighing', “ but the fact is, Charles, I am unhappily in 
 disgrace with your uncle myself; he has quitted Paris, in 
 resentment of my supposed offence — supposed, I say, be- 
 cause I am really unconscious of having done anything 
 that ought to offend him.” 
 
 “ He is an old but you know where he is, do you 
 
 not?” demanded Charles, suppressing the epithet he was 
 about to utter. 
 
430 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Denzil replied in the negative, but it was with difficulty 
 he could convince Charles; the latter conceiving that he 
 merely said so, to hinder him from prematurely seeing 
 his uncle, 
 
 « Why the deuce then don’t you speak out at once, 
 Denzil,” he observed, ‘‘ and tell me what it was that 
 drove him off? You cannot, of course, have offended him 
 with regard to Fanny, since every one must be convinced 
 that he would not have brought her over here, if he had 
 not totally withdrawn his opposition to the match be- 
 tween you. Indeed, I fully expected to have found you 
 married by this time.” 
 
 “ And do you not know have you never sus- 
 
 pected,” said Denzil, in a faltering voice, ^Uhat there 
 exists an impediment to the union you speak of, which 
 not even Mr. Levison could remove? Did you not 
 know,” he continued, ‘‘ that I quitted England under 
 that conviction?” 
 
 Charles stared. 
 
 “ I am totally at a loss for your meaning,” he replied. 
 “ Certainly, I knew you quitted England in despair, and 
 a very foolish thing it was of you to do so, and so I 
 know Fanny thought, as well as I; but that you had 
 any other reason to despair, than the improbability of my 
 uncle’s consenting to the match, never entered either 
 of our heads, I am sure. But I wish to goodness you 
 would speak out at once, and let me understand what you 
 
 are aiming at it would save us both a great deal of 
 
 trouble, I am inclined to think.” 
 
 “ And I am inclined to think so too, Charles; and I 
 wish to heaven I had done so long ago, for I suspect I 
 have been making myself very wretched for (he last nine 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 431 
 
 months. But I will not keep you in suspense any longer, 
 but relate to you all that — Let me, however, first ask you 
 whether you are acquainted with the melancholy circum- 
 stances which accompanied my birth 
 
 “ I am,” replied Charles, ‘‘for I learned them, under a 
 strict promise of secrecy, from my aunt Rachel. After 
 your departure, she was anxious to convince me that my 
 uncle was not so censurable for harshness and incon- 
 sistency as I considered him to be, and she related to me 
 the story, which I had heard imperfectly before, though 
 without having any idea of its relation to you.” 
 
 “You know, then, that there were two children that 
 
 I had a sister, born at the same time.” 
 
 “Yes, and who died at Lausanne, soon after your ar- 
 rival from England,” observed Charles. 
 
 “ Are you sure of that?” exclaimed Denzil. “ Oh, 
 Charles, were I but certain of that, it would at once re- 
 move ” 
 
 Sure of it, why should my aunt assert such a thing 
 if it was not truth ; besides, I myself recollected the cir- 
 cumstance, child as I was at the time, that we had ano- 
 ther play-fellow, a little girl who was called Elinor. She 
 was buried in the same grave with Fanny’s mother, who 
 was a native of France, and died a few hours after Mr. 
 Levison’s departure to England. 
 
 “ Fie had come, as aunt Rachel said, too late to render 
 her that justice which she deserved; for she was an inno- 
 cent and amiable girl, who had been thrown on his pro- 
 tection by some singular circumstances, and severely has 
 he since condemned himself for the advantage he took of 
 her love for him, and her destitute situation. It was 
 there he was residing with her, when he received the in- 
 formation of his brother’s death. She was on the point of 
 
432 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 making him a father, but he left her to come to England, 
 and she died in giving birth to a daughter. Fanny was 
 nursed at Lausanne, and, much as my uncle lamented her 
 mother, I believe he had no intention of publicly acknow- 
 ledging her as his daughter. But some circumstances in- 
 duced him to return to Lausanne, and you, your sister, 
 and myself, were the companions of his journey. I fancy 
 his original intention was to have left us there for a few 
 years, under the care of the lady who had charge of 
 Fanny, but it seems he had become so habituated to the 
 society of his little family, as he called us, and, after the 
 death of Elinor, so devotedly attached to his little girl, who 
 it appears was the living miniature of her mother, that he 
 determined on remaining there, and there he was after- 
 wards joined by my aunt; a circumstance which you must 
 well recollect, as also the death and burial of our good 
 nurse Erckhardt. And now, in return for my long story,” 
 he continued, “ I trust you will explain all the mighty 
 mystery which you have been brooding over so long, 
 and which, from your looks, I consider I have cleared up 
 to your satisfaction.” 
 
 Denzil no longer hesitated to acknowledge the secret 
 cause of his unhappiness. Every doubt, every fear was 
 removed from his mind, and he proceeded to rehearse all 
 that had occurred preceding his departure from Eng- 
 land; the terror and remorse that had been created in his 
 mind by the solemn and mysterious warning of his mo- 
 ther ; and the conversation with Mr. Levison, which he 
 had construed into a confirmation of the averment of the 
 former, and which had rendered him anxious to quit a 
 place which he could no longer remain in, without feeling 
 that every moment added to his guilt. 
 
 And all this comes of romance and romantic feelings ?” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 433 
 
 observed Charles. Now such a plain- dealing simpleton 
 as myself would have none of this scrupulous delicacy 
 to hinder my speaking outright, and saying, ‘ Are these 
 things so or not ?’ and thus at once putting an end to the 
 subject. Poor Fanny ! well might she be puzzled, 
 mortified, and harassed by your strange conduct, which, 
 I am sure, has been as inexplicable to her as to me ,* and 
 I suppose it has been some vagary of this kind, that has 
 given her and her father offence now, and driven them 
 off to look for another husband for her — for I am sure 
 you deserve it, for your stupidity. But pray — you spoke 
 of your mother and Tyrrell, as if you had had some 
 recent communication with them. Has it been that, 
 
 which has given offence to my uncle ? because 
 
 “ I have another long tale to relate on that subject,” 
 replied Denzil, with some embarrassment; “ but as it is 
 getting late, and I think you must stand in need of 
 repose, we will defer it till to-morrow morning, and 
 then, perhaps, I shall surprise you still more than I have 
 done.” 
 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Many and sharp the num’rous ills 
 Inwoven with our frame ! 
 
 More pointed still we make ourselves 
 Regret, remorse, and shame ! — Burns. 
 
 Having seen his friend safe at rest for the night, Denzil, 
 impatient to communicate to his mother the important 
 intelligence he had received, hastened to her apartments. 
 “ It would be folly to suppose that she can very 
 
 3 K 
 
434 - 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 deeply regi'et the death of a child whom she scarcely 
 knew,” he observed to himself; “and I can, therefore, 
 have no hesitation in telling* her the whole truth — a truth 
 which has made me the happiest being — and yet my hap- 
 piness is far from confirmed,” he exclaimed, as Charles’s 
 ill-omened surmise recurred to his mind. “ She is, per- 
 haps, by this time, far distant from me — her father 
 offended — and she herself — ^how can she think otherwise 
 
 of me than as a wayward, ungrateful Oh, should she 
 
 indeed learn to despise me, and should some other, 
 whom her father may approve, aspire to take my place 
 in her affections — Oh, no ! it cannot — will not be, that I 
 should be destined to have my happiness thus within my 
 very grasp- — only to behold it snatched away for ever !” 
 
 Lost in these conflicting emotions, Denzil did not 
 observe that he had taken a wrong turning, and that 
 instead of being in the direct road to his mother’s apart- 
 ments, he had taken one which led to the quay, near the 
 foot of the magnificent Pont Neuf. He was about to turn 
 and retrace his steps, when they were suddenly arrested 
 by the sound of a well-known voice, speaking in a tone 
 of great irritation. It Avas Julia Delaney ! and surprise 
 at her being in Paris, when he had supposed her far off, 
 rather than any interest, kept him for a moment station- 
 ary, and he heard her say — — 
 
 “ Then you acknowledge yourself a villain, and that 
 
 you have neither home, nor fortune, nor and what, 
 
 then, have you brought me here to starve ?” 
 
 “ I have told you the truth, my dear,” replied the man 
 to Avhom she was speaking ; “ but I know not how you 
 can have the face to reproach me, when you know your 
 own and your father’s representations were quite as 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 435 
 
 false as mine. Wliere is the fortune he was to give you ? 
 
 Where are his grand estates, and but come, Julia, let 
 
 us make the best of a bad bargain — we are two poor 
 devils together, that is certain, and we must set both our 
 wits to work.” 
 
 Julia burst into a torrent of invectives, and Denzil, 
 alike pained and disgusted, hastily proceeded on his way ; 
 but he had got but a few paces, when he heard a pier- 
 cing shriek — it was repeated, and he flew back to the spot 
 where he had left them standing. No one was there, 
 but he heard the noise of some one struggling in the 
 water, and the next moment beheld the white dress of 
 Julia, which had buoyed her up to the surface, at some 
 distance from the bank. 
 
 Without a moment’s hesitation he tore off his coat, 
 and jumped in. She had sunk the second time, but again 
 she arose, and he caught hold of her. 
 
 Several people had now arrived, drawn thither by the 
 shriek she had uttered, and with their aid she was con- 
 veyed to the shore. 
 
 Life was nearly extinct, but the prompt assistance she 
 received at the house to which she was taken, at length 
 restored her to sense and recollection ; and Denzil, hav- 
 ing left directions that every accommodation should be 
 afforded her, returned home to change his clothes. 
 
 Gratified as he felt that he had been enabled to prevent 
 a fellow creature from thus prematurely rushing into 
 eternity, he still experienced considerable anxiety at the 
 prospect of being probably compelled into further inter- 
 course with Julia Delaney, of whom he entertained such 
 an unfavourable opinion. 
 
 It was true that, at present, she was unconscious who 
 
436 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHEK. 
 
 had been her preserver, and he was under no obligation 
 to visit her again ; but he could not but feel compassion 
 for her deserted situation, and he thought that it would 
 be cruelty to have recalled her to existence, without 
 affording her some further assistance to support it. 
 
 It was now too late to visit his mother, and the earnest 
 entreaties of those around prevailed upon him to retire 
 at once to bed, to prevent his suffering from having 
 remained so long in his wet clothes. 
 
 The mischief, however, was already done. — In a few 
 hours, Denzil was awakened by a violent shivering fit, 
 and, before morning, he was seriously ill. 
 
 Charles’s vexation and disappointment were excessive, 
 and he vented them in loud terms when he visited his 
 suffering friend. 
 
 “ I do not think there ever Avas such an unlucky dog 
 as I am,” he observed. There have I been lying awake 
 half the night, anticipating the pleasures I should enjoy 
 with you in this gay place, and noAv I shall be just like 
 a fish out of water — for you know my French extends a 
 very little Avay, and I have been obliged already to call in 
 Ned as my interpreter.” 
 
 Denzil, in spite of headache and all the et ceteras of a 
 violent cold, laughed heartily at the idea of Ned’s know- 
 ledge of the French language. 
 
 Well,” observed Charles, but you have not yet 
 told me who this female was, for whom you risked your 
 life, and how you happened to be upon the spot, at that 
 time of night ?” 
 
 Denzil hesitated whether he should disclose the name 
 of her whom he had been the means of rescuing from 
 death; but he could not see that any evil could result 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 437 
 
 from so doing, and he considered, that, should his own 
 indisposition prove serious, which, from his present feel- 
 ings, he anticipated would be the case, it would be advi- 
 sable to employ Charles to make some arrangements 
 permanently to benefit the unhappy Julia. 
 
 Charles listened to his explanation with surprise. 
 
 “ Well, but what can you do for her ?” he observed. 
 “ It cannot be expected that you are going to burthen 
 yourself with the support of a foolish extravagant woman, 
 and such she appears to be, merely because she has suf- 
 fered herself to be taken in by some sharper, and in her 
 disappointment madly resolved upon suicide? I think 
 you have already done more than she could have ex- 
 pected you to do, in risking your life to save hers !” 
 
 “ I did no more for her, than I should have done for 
 any one under such circumstances,” replied Denzil ; “ nor 
 do I now feel more interest for her than I should feel 
 for any other female, in the same unhappy situation ; but 
 I cannot reconcile it to my feelings, to rest contented 
 with what I have done, without ” 
 
 “ Well, well, I am sure I don’t want to intercept yom' 
 benevolence towards her,” interrupted Charles. “ I 
 dare say I should feel as you do, if I had been the means 
 of rescuing a pretty woman from death, and saw her 
 thrown upon me entirely for support. So, only say 
 what you wish me to do, and I am at your service.” 
 
 Denzil looked gravely at Charles, for there was an 
 air of levity in his manner, even more than in his speech, 
 that was totally irreconcilable, he thought, with good 
 feeling. But, though Charles was never distinguished 
 for excessive sensibility, Denzil was unwilling to believe 
 him capable of any thing worse than levity, and he 
 therefore proceeded to direct him to inquire respecting 
 
438 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 the health of the unhappy Julia; and, if she were suffi- 
 ciently recovered to see him, to make known to her who 
 he was, and offer in his (Denzil’s) name, to assist her in 
 any manner she might be able to suggest. 
 
 Charles departed, glad, as he observed, to have some- 
 thing to do — and Denzil, who had slept but little during 
 the night, soon dropped into a slumber, from which he 
 was, however, in a short time awakened by the sound of 
 Ned’s voice, expostulating with some one at the chamber 
 door, on the impolicy and impropriety of disturbing a 
 sick man. 
 
 ‘‘ Do not talk to me !” replied the person addressed, 
 
 I must and will see him !” — and, in another moment, 
 Julia Delaney rushed into the room, and threw herself 
 on her knees by the bed-side. 
 
 “ Oh, Denzil, dear Denzil,” she exclaimed; “ is it for 
 me — for the unworthy Julia, you are suffering ! For me, 
 that you have risked your invaluable life ! Oh, Denzil, 
 never shall I know a moment’s happiness, until I see you 
 restored to health! Twice has the wretched Julia been 
 the means of endangering your life, and yet I would 
 have died for you — have died with pleasure, had I but 
 thought you would have lamented my fate !” 
 
 She hid her face in the bed-clothes, and sobbed aloud, 
 while Denzil, pained, embarrassed, and unable to frame 
 a reply to this violent and overstrained effusion, reproach- 
 fully observed to Charles, who had followed her into the 
 room 
 
 “ How could you be so thoughtless, Charles, as to 
 suffer Miss Delaney to come out — or so foolish as to ex- 
 aggerate the slight indisposition which I am suffering, 
 into a serious illness?” 
 
 Nay,” returned Charles, smiling significantly, you 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 439 
 
 must not blame me, Denzil, if the lady’s violent feelings 
 on your account, have overcome all motives of prudence 
 on her part. I assure you, I tried my utmost eloquence 
 to induce her to remain at home — for at least a day or 
 two; hut death itself, she said, was preferable to being 
 longer detained from her preserver.” 
 
 “ I should hope,” observed Denzil, coldly, the re- 
 cent escape. Miss Delaney ” 
 
 “ Oh, call me not by that formal name, dearest Den^ 
 zil!” she exclaimed; ‘‘call me Julia — your own Julia — 
 and yet, wretch ! miserable wretch that I am ! I had for- 
 gotten that I can no longer be yours — the fatal deed is 
 done ! Oh, Denzil, I am ruined — ruined for ever ! In a 
 fit of despair, at the unhappy events which separated me 
 from you, I listened to the proposals of one whom my 
 father favoured, and became his wife ! But, though I had 
 given my hand, I could not bestow my heart! He be- 
 came offended at my coldness, and having, by some 
 means, discovered the cause of it, treated me with 
 severity and harshness. Yesterday, only, we arrived in 
 Paris, on our way to England; but, alas, Denzil, the 
 thought that I was in the same city in which I had en- 
 joyed such superlative happiness with you — the thought 
 that you were, perhaps, still here — though I did not 
 dare make the inquiry, or even utter your name, to- 
 tally overcame my reason, and, in a fit of despair, I at- 
 tempted ” 
 
 “Julia Miss Delaney!” interrupted Denzil, whq 
 
 had remained hitherto silent, in utter surprise at the ex- 
 aggerated tissue of falsehoods to which she had given 
 
 utterance “ Pardon me, madam,” he continued, “ I 
 
 know not the appellation by which I ought properly to 
 
440 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 address you — but let me at once put an end to this sceite^ 
 by informing you that I am, from the testimony of my 
 own ears, fully acquainted with the causes that led to 
 the rash action, which, I am sorry to see, has made so 
 little impression on you. I was, by accident, within 
 hearing of the conclusion of your conversation with your 
 husband, and learned quite sufficient to explain, though 
 not to excuse, the measure by which you attempted to 
 terminate your mortification and disappointment. I am 
 sorry for you — very sorry for you,” he contimied, in a 
 tone of pity, “ but I wish at once to put an end to all 
 attempts to identify me with those violent feelings, of 
 which I do know the real foundation.” 
 
 Confounded and abashed beyond concealment, Julia 
 
 arose from her recumbent posture ‘‘You know, then, 
 
 Mr. Montgomery,” she observed, in a calmer tone, 
 “ that I have married a wretch — a villain — a vile impos- 
 tor, who has brought me here ! But you do not know, 
 you will not know, that it was utter despair of ever be- 
 holding you, — you, whom I solemnly declare to be the 
 only man I ever loved ” 
 
 “ Or pretended to love,” said Mr. St. George, who 
 had, unperceived, entered the room, and had glided round 
 to the opposite side of the bed, so as to confront her face 
 to face. 
 
 Julia remained for a moment motionless and silent, and 
 at length burst into an hysterical fit of tears. 
 
 “ This will not do for me. Miss Delaney,” said St. 
 George, in a cool, sarcastic tone; “ I have had too much 
 experience of these sort of affairs, to be imposed upon 
 by the crocodile tears of an artful, unprincipled woman ; 
 and I am desirous that my friend here should see you in 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 441 
 
 your true colours — It may be useful to him, in the jour- 
 ney through life, which he is but just commencing ; and 
 therefore I again ask you, is Mr. Denzil Montgomery 
 the tirst, second, third, fourth — shall I go on, or will you 
 spare me the trouble, by confessing at once that the tale 
 of love, which you tell so prettily, has been as often, nay 
 oftener, repeated than your paternoster ?” 
 
 “ You are an inhuman wretch !” exclaimed Julia, her 
 eyes darting fire ; “ but I shall find a time to be revenged 
 upon you, depend upon it. As to your friend here, whom 
 you seem to have taken under your protection, I owe him 
 some gratitude, and will therefore at once tell him that he 
 had better have surrendered his senses to my keeping 
 than to yours. I might have spent his money, but I 
 should not have done what you will do — harden his heart, 
 and corrupt his principles.” 
 
 And who, then, made me what I am?” observed St. 
 George, significantly. “What was I, when I first knew 
 you, Julia Delaney? — and what have you and your family 
 made me ? And yet I ought not to reproach you^ poor, 
 wretched girl ! Nurtured in crime, and tutored in dupli- 
 city, what could be expected from the pupil of such a 
 school as Delaney’s ? You acted only up to the doctrines 
 you had been taught, while I but we will end this re- 
 
 crimination. Mr. Montgomery must be convinced, at 
 least, of the sincerity of my good wishes towards him, by 
 my making him a witness of this scene. He knows both 
 you and me, Julia, now — and it will be his own fault, if 
 he suffers either of us to lead him from the path he has 
 hitherto persevered in. But, now, to descend from our 
 stilts to a little plain matter-of-fact — What do you mean 
 to do with yourself, Julia? You are now, I suppose, 
 
 3 L 
 
442 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 quite at liberty — ^for your caro sposo will not, I ima- 
 gine ** 
 
 “ Do not mention the wretch !” exclaimed Julia, with 
 a look of disgust, ‘‘ and to think, too, that I am really 
 married to him !” 
 
 “ ‘ That is the unkind est cut of all !’ ” replied St. 
 George ; “ but what would you say, my pretty Julia, if I 
 were to put you in a way to prove that he has been mar- 
 ried half-a-dozen times before ; and that therefore the 
 tie between you is null and void 
 
 “ I would say that I would forgive you all you have 
 ever done to vex and mortify me !’’ she returned. “ If 
 you would only enable me to send the villain to the gal- 
 leys, and free myself for ever from him !” 
 
 “ I cannot promise that, lovely Julia,” said St. George ; 
 “ because I suspect that he has taken care to avoid the 
 possibility of such a thing, by making his retreat ; but 
 come, I have a great deal to tell you, and perhaps some 
 things that may restore the smile to that pretty face — 
 but it is as well that we should leave Mr. Montgomery 
 to his repose, and not annoy him any longer with our 
 lover’s quarrels.” 
 
 “ Lovers !” repeated Julia, pouting ; but in a tone 
 that evidently shewed a wish for conciliation. 
 
 Mr. St. George nodded a farewell to Denzil, and 
 drawing Julia’s arm through his, they quitted the room 
 together, leaving Denzil to reflect with surprise on the 
 strange mixture of duplicity and sincere feeling, sound 
 sense and hypocrisy, liberality and selfishness, which 
 he had just witnessed. 
 
THE GiPSY MOTHER. 
 
 44S 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 The noblest minds their virtue prove, 
 
 By pity, sympathy, and love ; 
 
 These, these, are feelings truly fine, 
 
 And prove their owner half divine. — Cowper. 
 
 The effects of Denzil’s exertions, in behalf of his quon- 
 dam friend Miss Delaney, or, as she was now called, Mrs. 
 Wilmington, proved less serious than he had at first ap- 
 prehended ; and, after a day^s confinement to his room, 
 he was enabled to renew his former occupations, with no 
 other disagreeable result than a slight degree of lassitude. 
 
 The arrival of Charles, which he had sent his servant 
 Ned to communicate to his mother, afforded Denzil a 
 sufficient plea for his absence from her, without exposing 
 the danger he had run, or the renewal, in some measure, 
 of an intercourse between him and a member of the family 
 of Delaney, whose name was never heard by her without 
 exciting the bitterest feelings. 
 
 Totally absorbed in the novelty of his new abode, 
 Charles Levison had evinced no desire of recurring to the 
 circumstances which Denzil had promised to explain to 
 him ; and the latter feeling no disposition, in his present 
 mood, to return to the subject, avoided all allusion to it, 
 and yielded readily to the proposal, that he should accom- 
 pany Charles in a visit to the wonders of the Palais 
 Royale, of which he said he had taken a cursory view the 
 day before, but which he now longed to revisit with one 
 
444 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 who was more au fait than Ned, who had been his guide 
 on the former occasion. 
 
 Perfectly restored to all his usual careless and thought- 
 less tone, Charles lounged along, holding Denzil by the 
 arm, pausing and wondering whenever anything new or 
 surprising caught his sight, and occasionally reproaching 
 his companion for not feeling so much pleasure and satis- 
 faction as he did. 
 
 In this manner they had made several turns, and Den- 
 zil, heartily tired, and desirous of slipping away to pay his 
 intended visit to his mother, was on the point of propos- 
 ing to return, when Charles suddenly darted from him, 
 and, with a hearty slap on the shoulder, and an exclamation 
 of delight and surprise, accosted a person who was walk- 
 ing on before them. 
 
 ‘‘ Charles, my dear boy, my royal Charlie /” exclaimed 
 the person whom he addressed, a dashing, fashionable- 
 looking man, “ what good wind has blown you over here, 
 to this region of delight and beauty ? Where is Mrs. Le- 
 vison ? She is well, I hope ? Where is she ? — come, you 
 must take me to pay my devoirs^ and make the amende 
 honorable., for having run away without honouring her 
 last card of invitation ; but, you know, I am a sad harum- 
 scarum fellow, — here to-day, and gone to-morrow, 
 though I really had begun, before I had been here twenty- 
 four hours, to think very gravely of what the divine Mrs. 
 Levison would say at my unseasonable desertion, and 
 positively I do think, if I had not met you, I should have 
 been off back again before 1 slept, if it had been only to 
 apologise, diXiA pour prendre congee in due form,” 
 
 “ It would have been of no use, then,” said Charles, 
 whose countenance had gradually changed during this 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 445 
 
 flippant speech, from the expression of self-gratulation at 
 meeting this dear friend, to the extreme of discontent and 
 vexation, apparently at the recollections which his pre- 
 sence occasioned. ‘‘ It would have been of no use, 
 tlien,” he repeated, in a sulky tone, for Emma never 
 gave the party you speak of, and she has been down in 
 Cumberland, with her mother, these ten days past.” • 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, Diavolo !” exclaimed the friend, the beautiful 
 Emma buried alive in the wilds of Cumberland! — the 
 goddess of fashion converted into a rural deity I 
 
 “ ‘ Can such things be, and overcome us like a summer cloud, 
 Without our special wonder?’ 
 
 But, I forgot, I must not quote Shakspeare here, or I 
 shall be looked upon as a barbarian.” 
 
 “ Not quote Shakspeare?” returned Charles, imme- 
 diately forgetting the subject which had the moment before 
 so strongly excited his feelings of displeasure and regret. 
 
 “ No, my dear fellow, the haut-ton and gens (T esprit of 
 Paris vote him a bore ? But where are you ? and why do 
 you not introduce me to your solemn friend, there? 
 What is he? — he looks too young to be qualified to edu- 
 cate grown gentlemen, or I should take him for a tutor 
 that papa Levison had appointed to protect you from the 
 seductions and dangers of this fair city of Paris.” 
 
 The last sentence was uttered in a low tone, but suf- 
 ficiently audible to reach Denzifs ears, who, before not 
 greatly prepossessed in favour of Charles’s friend, was 
 now still less inclined to profit by the introduction which 
 took place between them, and from which he learned 
 that the stranger was the honourable Captain Templeton. 
 
 ‘‘ Son of the earl of Singlemore,” whispered Charles, 
 
446 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 in addition, as if desirous of impressing Denzil with ex- 
 traordinary respect for his dear and intimate friend — for 
 such, by the very easy tone which Captain Templeton 
 assumed in speaking of the domestic affairs of Charles, 
 and his absent connexions, the latter appeared to be. 
 
 He owes me fifty pounds !” said Charles, looking after 
 him, w'hen they parted, “ besides having drawn me in to 
 back his bill to his tailor, for 1 know not how much — 
 and yet now he talks only of having acted shabbily, in 
 not taking leave, as if it was not much more shabby to 
 run away without fulfilling his promise to pay me, on the 
 very day he set off. As to Emma, I am sure he made 
 himself very ridiculous, and her very angry, with his 
 pretended adoration — and I often used to suspect that, 
 after all, he was only making a fool of her, and of me 
 too!” 
 
 And yet you greet this man as your dear friend, and 
 seem delighted that he should be here?” said Denzil, 
 with angry surprise. 
 
 “ One is so glad to see anybody one knows in a 
 strange place ;” replied Charles, looking very foolish ; 
 “ however, I shall certainly ask him for the money I lent 
 him, when I see him again.” 
 
 A few more questions from Denzil elicited the fact that 
 Charles had been completely the dupe of his honourable 
 associates ; and that, after having lost to them heavy sums 
 at play, he had engaged himself to an amount which 
 would seriously embarrass him, even should he succeed 
 in prevailing upon Mr. Levison to increase his allowance. 
 
 Denzil heard this account with feelings of extreme 
 vexation. His own resources were nearly drained, by 
 the extraordinary demands that had been lately made on 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 447 
 
 them ; and the task of providing suitably for his mother 
 would, he felt, be quite as much as he could easily 
 undertake, for some time to come ; yet it was very plain 
 that Charles placed great reliance on his assistance, and, 
 in fact, he frankly acknowledged that he had left home so 
 unprovided, that he must be under the necessity of de- 
 pending on the bounty of his friend, until he heard from 
 his uncle. 
 
 All these vexatious considerations, however, were but 
 as a trifle on the mind of Denzil, in comparison with the 
 heartfelt satisfaction he received from the assurance of 
 Charles, that he had all along erred in supposing Fanny 
 Levison to be his (Denzil’s) sister; and, full of this theme, 
 he repaired to the apartments of his mother, determined to 
 communicate to her all he had learned. 
 
 She heard him with interest and attention; but it was 
 plain that his arguments were by no means so conclusive 
 to her as he had expected. 
 
 “ I was aware that Mr. Levison had a daughter,’’ she 
 observed ; but my heart, my eyes, could not deceive me 
 — Oh no, it was my Elinor whom I beheld ! The voice 
 of nature always speaks unerringly — I should have recog- 
 nised my own child anywhere ; and, sure I am, that that 
 beautiful creature, whom I have beheld probably for the 
 last time, was my own — my darling Elinor ! It must 
 have been the child of Charles Levison, who was buried 
 at Lausanne — a thousand circumstances confirm it to my 
 mind and memory !” 
 
 Again Denzil felt the pangs of doubt, of fear, and of 
 suspense, crowd upon him, and banish at once the calm 
 which the communication of Charles had created in his 
 mind. 
 
448 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 There was but one way of ascertaining the truth, and 
 but one way of putting an end to all uncertainty — it was, 
 to appeal to Mr. Levison, without any reserve. But 
 where was Mr. Levison ? Denzll’s every nerve throbbed 
 with agony as he reflected that weeks, nay months, might 
 pass over, before he could ascertain whither Mr. Levi- 
 son had gone. All other objects, compared with that, 
 now seemed trifling; and he was just about to declare 
 his resolution of following his former friend and benefac- 
 tor, even if it were to the farthermost ends of the earth, 
 could he once discover the route he had taken, when his 
 thoughts on that head were all put to flight by an obser- 
 vation of his mother’s, relative to their intended journey 
 to England. 
 
 “We ought not to delay it, my dear boy,” she ob- 
 served ; “ for my life is but precarious, and it would be 
 at least one flower to strew my path to the grave, should 
 
 I see you acknowledged to be ” 
 
 “ I will not delay it, my dear mother,” returned 
 Denzil, starting from his reverie ; “it is, it ought to be, 
 for your sake, the first object of my thoughts; but at 
 this moment it is impossible — this heedless, thoughtless 
 Charles is involved in trouble, and he has no friend here 
 
 but me. Should I desert him ” 
 
 “ Oh, no, no — my dear son, never let it be said that we 
 should give another pang to the heart of any member of 
 the Levison family — No, rather would I renounce every 
 hope that I have ventured to form, than that you should 
 fail in your duty to the nephew of your benefactor and 
 mine !” 
 
 With a heart divided between a thousand hopes and 
 fears, Denzil returned to his hotel, where, however, he 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 449 
 
 found to his surprise, and somewhat to his displeasuroj 
 that Charles was absent. 
 
 Pie had strolled out, the servants said, leaving* word 
 that he should return in a quarter of an hour ; but three 
 hours passed away, and he came not. 
 
 ‘‘ The foolish fellow has bewildered himself,” thought 
 Denzil, “ and his slight acquaintance with the French lan- 
 guage will not allow him to understand, or make himself 
 understood by those who would guide him hither.” 
 
 Considering, however, that, though he might suffer 
 some trifling inconvenience, he would eventually find his 
 way to the hotel, Denzil contented himself with sending 
 two of the servants in search of him ; but when the hour 
 of midnight arrived, without bringing any intelligence of 
 him, he became alarmed, and was on the point of sallying 
 out himself, when he heard his voice, in a loud key, upon 
 the stairs. 
 
 Denzil darted forwards to meet him, conceiving that 
 something unpleasant had occurred ; but the first glance 
 explained that Charles had been making himself what he 
 called comfortable^ or, in other words, he was in a state 
 of the most uproarious felicity. 
 
 “Where in the world have you been ?” demanded Den- 
 zil, scarcely able to forbear laughing at the half-crying, 
 half-important look which Charles assumed. 
 
 “ I have been in very good company, I assure you,” 
 replied the latter, nodding his head significantly ; “ very 
 good company, indeed — and we have been drinking your 
 health in a bumper, and it has made me a little — a little 
 giddy !” and he reeled into a chair. 
 
 By degrees Denzil drew from him that he had met St. 
 George, who had rescued him, from the jeopardy which 
 
 3 M 
 
450 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 the former had suspected he had got into, namely, the in- 
 ability to make himself understood, when he would have 
 inquired his way back to the hotel. 
 
 “ He gave me some excellent wine !” he continued ; 
 “ and, by Jove, that Julia is a famous nice girl ! Talk of 
 Fanny Levison, or my Emma — she’s ten times handsomer 
 than either, and sings divinely ; and besides, somehow, I 
 ahvays feel more at ease, when a woman don’t make any 
 gi'eat pretensions to modesty, and all that stuff ! I don’t 
 like a downright coarse, impudent woman — but Julia is 
 just what I do like — so free and easy, and so full of chat 
 and spirits — it is impossible to be dull in her company ! 
 Upon my honour, Denzil, you are a lucky fellow to have 
 had the chance of securing her gratitude by saving her 
 life — but, it seems, you do not set any value upon what 
 you have done, and would just as soon have had the satis- 
 faction of rescuing the ugliest girl in Paris — though, 
 I’m sure, half the young fellows, either here or in London, 
 would give a hundred pounds to have have had your 
 chance !” 
 
 You seem to have profited by the free and easy morals, 
 as well as manners, of the company you have been with,” 
 observed Denzil, gravely ; “ but, surely, I do not rightly 
 comprehend you? You cannot mean to say that Julia 
 Delaney was with St. George !” 
 
 “ I do mean to say that she is his — his — what did he 
 call her ? — Dame de Maison ! That is to say, she does him 
 the honour to sit at his table, and carve the chickens; 
 and, upon my word, his supper-table was infinitely more 
 attractive than your cold, cheerless, bachelor-looking tray 
 with sandwiches. I don’t think I shall patronise you at 
 all, unless you get a lady to preside ; though, by-the-by, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 451 
 
 Julia hinted a good deal that there is a lady who — eh ! 
 don’t blush, Denzil, at being found out ! Only, as she says, 
 it is so selfish, so suspicious, so Englishmanlike, to be 
 keeping a fine woman mewed up in a dull, solitary lodg- 
 ing in the suburbs, and creeping to see her in the dusk of 
 the evening, instead of letting her shine out in her proper 
 place, and ” 
 
 ‘‘ It is false, Mr. Levison !” interrupted Denzil, with 
 warmth ; though, even if it were true, it would argue 
 some remains of virtue in me, that I did not openly sin.” 
 
 “ Virtue !” repeated Charles, with a laugh of derision. 
 ‘‘Pshaw, my dear fellow, we are in Paris, and notin Cum- 
 berland now; and who ever hears or thinks, much less 
 talks, about virtue and morality, or any such old-fashioned 
 stuff here !” 
 
 “ I am sorry for it,” returned Denzil, “ and still more 
 sorry to hear such language from your lips. The excel- 
 lent man 
 
 Where my Julia’s lips do smile, 
 
 There’s the land of Cherry Isle,’ ” 
 
 sang Charles, drowning the conclusion of DenziPs speech. 
 
 “ You had better go to bed, Charles,” observed Den- 
 zil ; “ you are not in a fit state for conversation. In the 
 morning ” 
 
 “ Aye, in the morning, you will preach me one of your 
 musty old sermons, upon the moral duties ? Is not that 
 what you mean to say, Denzil ? But it won’t do, my boy 
 — I have seen too much of life ! and, besides, I shall have 
 the head-ache; and, besides, I have promised to drive 
 
 Julia out in St. George’s britschka ; and besides 1 must 
 
 go to bed, positively, for you have upset all my bright 
 ideas, and, with your solemn looks, have turned all the 
 
452 
 
 THE GIl'SY MOTKEK. 
 
 wine I have drunk sour. So, good night, Mr. Morality! 
 Good night, my virtuous Denzil! Remember me to your 
 prudent, pious, discreet, female friend in the Rue — Rue — 
 Fauxbourg — what is it? I declare it is all gone out of my 
 head, though Julia told me the exact spot.” 
 
 That female will remember you, Mr. Levison, in 
 her prayers to-night,” said Denzil, in a voice faltering 
 with emotion; “ that female will pray for your happiness, 
 as the nephew, the adopted son of her benefactor — of the 
 preserver of her children ! That female, sir, is my mother 
 — and now, sport no more with her name and my 
 feelings !” 
 
 Good heavens, Denzil, do not look so fearfully upon 
 me!” stammered Charles, dismissing in a moment the 
 tone of levity which he had before assumed. “ Shake 
 hands with me, and say you forgive me — I am sure, you 
 know I would not say or do any thing to hurt you, for 
 the world! And Julia, I am certain, has too much regard, 
 too much respect for you ” 
 
 Do not mention her name to me !” returned Mont- 
 gomery. “ I want neither regard nor respect from her! 
 I want only, if she has one spark of that gratitude she 
 feigned to feel so largely, that she will refrain from 
 speaking of me, or aught connected with me.” 
 
 ‘‘Well, but I will tell you a little bit of a secret, 
 Denzil, about this affair,” observed Charles, “ if you 
 will have patience to listen to me; — and that is, that I do 
 believe that it was Julia who instigated my uncle and 
 Fanny to drive away from Paris, aye, and that she 
 knows, too, where they are gone ! She is an artful little 
 baggage, that I am sure of — and she told me a long' 
 story about her being desperately in love with you, and 
 
THE GiPSY MOTHER* 
 
 45S 
 
 her watching you, and finding out that you had an amour, 
 as she thought, and then her jealousy, or her wish to 
 
 save you from ruin Oh, yes, I could read very well 
 
 she was the mischief-maker, and, no doubt, poor Fanny 
 has gone away, breaking her heart with the thought that 
 you were a vile hypocrite, pretending to make love to 
 
 her, and all the while yes, yes, that was the cause of 
 
 their flying off in a tangent, you may depend on it ! But 
 ril have it all out of the little gipsy, to-morrow, when 
 I drive her out ! Upon my word, she is really a bewitch- 
 ing creature, Denzil ! what a sensation it would make in 
 London, if 1 were to carry her off, and bring her out 
 next season — I know she would eclipse all ” 
 
 “ I cannot listen to you with patience, Charles !” ex- 
 claimed Denzil, “ for heaven’s sake, for your own sake, 
 talk not as if your heart were utterly dead to those ex- 
 cellent lessons which ” 
 
 “ Pshaw ! or rather, bah ! as Julia says, in sucli a 
 pretty Frenchified tone 
 
 ‘ Preach not to me your musty rules, 
 Ye drones, who mould in idle cell— 
 The heart is wiser than the schools, 
 The senses always reason well.’ 
 
 There, you droll dog, there is Milton’s authority for 
 my doctrines; and so now remain quiet, and let me 
 not hear another word of stale morality. Bacchus and 
 Venus are my deities! 
 
 * Come, jolly Bacchus, god of wine, 
 
 Crown our nights with pleasure !’ *’ 
 
 And he reeled out of the room, shouting, in the nSost 
 
454 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 discordant tones, the song he had chosen as illustrative 
 of his sentiments. 
 
 “Pleasure, indeed!’* repeated Denzil, sighing; “such 
 pleasures as yours, I fear, will prove but short-lived, and 
 leave behind traces of a far different feeling. Yet I will 
 hope that these are but the ebullitions of a fancy heated 
 by wine; and, at all events, I will take care, as far as it 
 is in my power, to counteract the evil impressions which 
 the society he has unfortunately fallen into may create. 
 Would that his excellent uncle — that Fanny — were here! 
 Their presence might, perhaps, restrain him, and give a 
 
 different tone to Fanny! how many thoughts, 
 
 how many fond imaginings, how many ardent wishes and 
 deep sighs of regret were conjured up to his mind in an 
 instant, at the bare mention of her name. And did she still 
 feel for him? — was he still the object of her affections, as 
 he felt he had been, when he dared not be gratefid — when 
 he dared not wish to be so — when he had prayed that she 
 might forget him, as he had vainly tried to forget her? 
 Oh, what were the agonies of those hours, which he even 
 now shuddered to recal to his mind — those agonies of 
 guilty, despairing, yet uncontrollable and intense passion 
 for one whom he believed it a crime even to think of^ 
 except with the pure and holy feeling of a brother’s love ! 
 And how was he sure — was it beyond a doubt — that that 
 obstacle to the indulgence of his passion was removed? — 
 was he sure that she, for whose presence he now sighed 
 with such intensity, was, indeed, free to receive his vows? 
 — The thought was startling — he dared not trust himself 
 to reflect upon it — yet still it pursued him, and, even in 
 sleep, visions of horror, in which the fair form of her he 
 loved was over foremost^ now frowning upon him in 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 455 
 
 anger, and then seeming to reproach him with tears, as 
 the cause of all her sorrows — haunted his pillow, and at 
 length effectually banished that repose which he anxiously 
 sought from his oppressive thoughts. 
 
 Denzil considered not that this was but the natural 
 consequence of the uneasiness and perplexity, which 
 Charles’s thoughtlessness and baneful propensities had 
 excited in his mind, added to the check which his confi- 
 dence had received, from the pertinacious adherence of 
 his mother to her first conceptions respecting Fanny ; but 
 with that melancholy which his dubious situation and the 
 circumstances connected with his birth had created, he 
 gave way to the most gloomy forebodings as to the 
 future, and the most distressing reminiscences of the past. 
 
 Morning came, and Charles, languid, dejected, and 
 spiritless, excited the deepest pity and commiseration in 
 Denzil’s bosom, who, unused to see the effects of 
 intoxication, attributed to sorrow and shame, that which 
 was only the natural consequences attendant on the excess 
 of which Charles had been guilty. 
 
 He has seen his error already,” mentally observed 
 the kind-hearted Denzil, and it would be cruel in me 
 to exaggerate those feelings, which, I trust, will hence- 
 forth influence his conduct.” 
 
 The breakfast hour passed off with scarcely any attempt 
 on the part of Charles to keep up a conversation which 
 Denzil, though himself depressed, endeavoured to render 
 interesting to his companion, by leading' it to subjects, 
 which, had the latter been in his usual spirits, would 
 have possessed to him the greatest charms ; but it was in 
 vain that Denzil expatiated on the splendour and variety 
 of entertainments which might be enjoyed in Paris, 
 
456 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 sans pevr et sans reproche ; in vain that he tried to 
 excite a laugh, by detailing numerous traits of the 
 frivolity and inconsistency — the extremes of pride and 
 abject littleness — which had fallen under his observation ; 
 the ridiculous assumptions of superiority and freedom 
 from prejudice, contrasted with the most glaring proofs 
 of bigotry and ignorance ; — all, in short, that must occur 
 to a soberminded and reflective individual, during a 
 residence in ‘‘ la grande ville de la grande nation'^ — all 
 was alike stale, flat, and unprofitable to him to whom 
 these remarks were addressed, and Denzil, at length 
 convinced that all attempts to amuse him were at present 
 fruitless — and half inclined to think that it would per- 
 haps be the wisest plan to leave him to the natural issue 
 of his own reflections, rather than endeavour to direct 
 their course, quitted the room, pleading an engagement 
 which would occupy him for an hour or two. 
 
 “ After which,” he continued, my time will be at 
 your service ; and I will be your guide to the lions, if 
 you please to accept my services. It is my mother to 
 Avhom I am going, for the time I mentioned,” he added, 
 casting down his eyes, while a slight blush crossed his 
 cheek at the recollection of what had passed on the pre- 
 ceding night, and remember, Charles, it is in confidence 
 to you that I mention that unfortunate woman. To 
 
 Miss Delaney, or Mrs. I forget by what title she is 
 
 now called — but to her, I trust, should you be so unfor- 
 tunate as again to fall in her way, you will be silent, as 
 to the nature of my visits to ” 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, yes,” interrupted Charles, in a tone which 
 indicated his wish not to enter upon the subject; “ I will 
 certainly be cautious on that head. You need fear 
 
THti (llpsy MOTHEU, 
 
 457 
 
 nothing’ from me, Denzil — for you know, though I am 
 sometimes thoughtless, I would not seriously do any- 
 thing to injure you ; and you are, of course, placed in a 
 very awkward situation with regard to the person you 
 mention ; though I declare, if you had not again men- 
 tioned it, it had quite clean gone out of my head ; I had 
 quite forgot your telling me last night, who it was that 
 
 you went to see in 1 forget the name of the street — 
 
 but it is no matter — I do not wish to know more on the 
 subject; and, indeed, it would not be proper, all things 
 considered, that I should know anything about such a 
 person ; and I am sorry, now I come to think of it, that 
 my foolish remarks, last night, should have drawn 
 the secret from you — because, if my uncle were to come 
 to know ” 
 
 “ If your uncle were here now, Charles,” interrupted 
 Denzil, trembling with emotion, “ he would be the first 
 to whom I would communicate the existence of that 
 person — the first from whom I should demand justice for 
 the wrong that has been done her — the first to whom I 
 should apply for advice, for assistance, to establish her 
 innocence, her ” 
 
 “ There — there — my dear fellow, for heaven’s sake, 
 do not let my foolish observation distress and agitate you 
 so,” observed Charles, in a hurried tone. “ I am sure 
 
 1 did not mean that is to say, it is quite impossible 
 
 for me to judge — but we will talk of it some other time. 
 I am really so unwell now, my head aches so confound- 
 edly, and I am altogether so unhinged ” 
 
 Denzil closed tl\e door after him, and, scarcely con- 
 scious what he was doing, or whither he went, hastily 
 quitted the house. 
 
 3 N 
 
458 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Aware, however, that it would provoke inquiry, and 
 occasion her anxiety, should he appear before his mother 
 in his present state of excitement, he took an opposite 
 direction to that which led to her residence, and con- 
 tinued to hurry on, regardless of the course he took, 
 until at length he emerged from the crowded, narrow, 
 and dirty streets, through which he had been threading 
 his way, desirous only of shunning observation, and of 
 flying, if possible, from the painful and mortifying thoughts 
 which oppressed him, into one of the most quiet and 
 retired suburbs of the city. The comparative purity of the 
 air, and the calmness that reigned around him, seemed 
 to restore him to some degree of tranquillity. His hur- 
 ried step relaxed, the intense throbbing of his heart 
 abated, and the feelings of wounded pride and of filial 
 affection, which the remarks of his friend had excited to 
 such a painful excess, became calmed into melancholy 
 regret that circumstances should have arisen to occasion 
 the opportunity for such observations. 
 
 He was still lingering along, uncertain which way to 
 take, and undetermined whether to return home or to 
 pay his purposed visit to his mother, when his attention 
 was drawn to a person who was viewing him, with 
 evident curiosity, and more than common observation, 
 from the opposite side of the street. 
 
 This person was an elderly gentleman, whose dress 
 and deportment betrayed him to be an Englishman, and 
 whose features, even at that distance, seemed to Denzil 
 to be familiar to him. 
 
 Anxious at that moment, however, rather to shun 
 than to court the observation of any one to whom there 
 was a probability of his being known, Denzil was on the 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 459 
 
 point of turning away, when the gentleman, making a 
 sign to him to stop, crossed the street, and greeted him 
 heartily, observing, there were few persons in the world 
 whom he should meet with more pleasure. 
 
 The latter recognised him at once as an old friend of 
 Mr. Levison’s, who had several times dined with the family 
 during their residence in St. James’s Place ; and, struck 
 with the possibility that the old gentleman might possess 
 some knowledge of Mr. Levison’s present abode, he 
 expressed himself with so much cordiality, in return, 
 that Mr. Dormer entered at once into a long chat; in the 
 course of which he mentioned that he had only a few 
 days before left London, his wife having been recom- 
 mended to a warmer climate than England, for the 
 restoration of her health; and, in conclusion, invited him, 
 in the most pressing terms, to go home with him, and 
 take a family dinner, adding 
 
 ‘‘ If the air of Paris has not spoiled your taste, it will, 
 perhaps, be some inducement to you to come, when I 
 tell you that it will be an English dinner, as far as 
 cookery goes; for I have brought my own old coctk with 
 me, as I abhor their ragouts and hoiiillies, and their other 
 various ways of murdering good victuals.” 
 
 Denzil smiled, and was about to decline for the present 
 the invitation, when he suddenly recollected Charles, and 
 considered that Mr. Dormer, who was a lively and in- 
 telligent companion, and one who had seen a great deal 
 of the world, without having had his warm feelmgs 
 blunted, or his liberal views contracted by the inter- 
 course, might prove a useful auxiliary in withdrawing the 
 latter from the idle and pernicious habits which he seemed 
 to have formed. 
 
460 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ You are not aware, I suppose, my dear sir, that I 
 have a companion here, who has stronger claims to your 
 kind consideration than I can pretend to.” 
 
 Mr. Dormer looked surprised, and Denzil added — 
 
 ‘‘ Charles Levison, the nephew of your old friend, is 
 here, and, for the present, my guest.” 
 
 Charles here !” repeated Mr. Dormer, with increased 
 surprise, you do indeed astonish me ! And where, then, 
 is his giddy, foolish wife ? She is not come, too, I hope, 
 to add to her stock of airs and follies, by an importation of 
 French fashions and French vices?” 
 
 Mrs. Levison is, I believe, with her mother in Cum- 
 berland,” replied Denzil, recollecting, for the first time, 
 that the person with whom he was conversing, was a 
 near relation to the wife of Charles. 
 
 I am glad to hear it — very glad to hear it,” observed 
 Mr. Dormer. ‘‘ It is the wisest thing they have done, 
 since they came together. And so, Charles is here, and 
 as thoughtless and wild, I suppose, as ever?” 
 
 ‘‘ I hope not,” returned Denzil, colouring slightly, as 
 a recollection of the last evening’s transactions crossed 
 his mind; “at least,” he added, “ I left him this morning, 
 deeply reflecting, and, I believe, heartily ashamed of past 
 follies.” 
 
 “ It is quite time, indeed, that he should begin to 
 think,” said Mr. Dormer. “ However, as I am not one 
 of those who think that young people are only to be re- 
 claimed by harshness and severity, I shall be glad to see 
 Charles; and, if I can assist him in retrieving the embar- 
 rassments, which, I suspect, his extravagance has brought 
 upon him, I will do it to the full extent of my power. 
 But you must come home with me now, for I have more 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 46 1 
 
 to say to you than I can say here, and some questions to 
 ask, and which I would fain ask before I see Charles, 
 with whom, I suspect, I have less cause to be angry than 
 with you, on the principle that where much is given, 
 much is expected. Charles always was a simpleton, but 
 
 you Well, never mind, we will say more of that 
 
 anon — so come with me !” 
 
 Denzil felt surprised, and somewhat agitated; but he 
 offered no denial to Mr. Dormer’s proposal, and in a 
 few minutes they reached the house at which, as Mr. 
 Dormer observed, he had found refuge from the dirt and 
 bustle of the more populous parts of the city. 
 
 In the large handsome apartment into which Denzil 
 followed his companion, a young lady was seated at a 
 drawing. 
 
 Rosa, my dear,” observed Mr. Dormer, as she quitted 
 her seat to return, with some confusion, the unexpected 
 salutation of the stranger, “ Rosa, this is Mr. Montgo- 
 mery — the young man of whom you have heard me 
 speak, as the ward of my friend Levison. Mr. Mont- 
 gomery — my niece. Miss Somerville.” 
 
 Rosa’s blush deepened still more at this introduction, 
 and she looked at her uncle, as if inquiring whether she 
 was expected to stay or to withdraw. 
 
 You will be glad to hear, my dear,” he observed, 
 ‘‘ that your cousin Emma is gone down to her mother in 
 Cumberland.” 
 
 Poor thing ! poor girl !” observed the young lady, 
 tears starting into her fine hazel eyes, and apparently for- 
 getting the presence of a third person. “ I am indeed 
 rejoiced to hear it! Oh, I hope her mother will treat 
 her kindly — that she will not add bitterness to the regret 
 
4(52 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 she no doubt must feel. But 1 am afraid — my aunt is so 
 very passionate, and Emma ” 
 
 “ Emma ! if her mother were to lock her up, and keep 
 her upon bread and water for a twelvemonth, it would 
 be no more than she deserves !” said Mr. Dormer. 
 
 “ That is so like you, uncle,” observed Miss Somer- 
 ville, smiling- amid her tears, “ always preaching and 
 threatening severity, and always practising the reverse.” 
 
 “ Yes, yes — because you have got the upper hand of 
 me, and presume upon my indulgence,” said her uncle ; 
 “ but go to your aunt, my dear, and tell her the good 
 news that Mr. Montgomery has brought ; and tell her too, 
 that the foolish boy, Emma’s husband, is here in Paris, 
 and that I expect he will dine with us to-day ; and that we 
 must try and forget all that has passed, and see if we 
 cannot put a little sense into his head for the future.” 
 
 The young lady departed, evidently delighted with 
 her errand, and Mr. Dormer, looking after her, ob- 
 served — 
 
 “ There goes the pride, the comfort, and the only care 
 
 of my old age, Mr. Montgomery one who, reared 
 
 amidst luxury and dissipation, has had sense and feel- 
 ing enough to contemn its allurements, and has now, for 
 three years, been the voluntary companion of a querulous 
 old man, and a sickly complaining old woman, without 
 even expressing a wish to share amusements which they 
 could no longer enjoy; or even reminding them that she 
 was heiress to twenty thousand pounds, and free to choose 
 her own guardian. But I want to talk to you of your 
 own alfairs, instead of gossiping about my Rosa — and, 
 first, what is the reason I find you here in Paris; and Mr. 
 Levison and his family in London ?” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 463 
 
 In London !” repeated Denzil, breathless with sur- 
 prise, and scarcely believing the evidence of his ears. 
 
 “ Yes, in London. Did you not know that they ar- 
 rived there, a week since ? Did not Charles know it ?’’ 
 
 ‘‘ Certainly not,” replied Denzil ; “ he came over here 
 purposely to seek an interview with his uncle, and has 
 been suffering the greatest chagrin and disappointment at 
 my being unable to give him any intelligence of the route 
 he had taken.” 
 
 “They were in London, then, and at an hotel in 
 Bruton Street, when I quitted it. I saw my old friend 
 for a few minutes, on the very morning we left, and 
 learned from him that he was as yet undecided how long 
 he should remain there. I hardly know whether I ought 
 to communicate some other intelligence I gained — not 
 from him, but from that dear old creature, aunt Rachael, 
 when he had left us ; but as, according’ to appearances, all 
 
 that I expected would take place in plain terms, as 
 
 all connexion between you and Fanny seems at an end, I 
 may not perhaps do wrong in telling you that she is 
 likely to make a very splendid alliance — no less than an 
 Earl — the Earl of Raeburn, who has recently come to his 
 title, and who, it appears, was the means of rescuing her 
 from the danger of being drowned, during an excursion 
 on the water while in Switzerland, whither they went, it 
 seemed, after they quitted France.” 
 
 “ Then my doom is sealed !” exclaimed Den»l, “ I 
 had, till now, still some hope— but it is all over — all fled 
 now!” 
 
 “ Can it be possible that I have been mistaken ?” said 
 Mr. Dormer, regarding him with surprise. “ 1 thought, 
 from Rachefs reply to my questions, that you had volun- 
 
464 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 tarily surrendered your claims, and, indeed, I imagined 
 that you had formed some other connexion.” 
 
 “ Never ! never !” exclaimed Denzil, in deep emotion. 
 
 Never can I but it is of no avail ! All, now, is over — 
 
 and I can only pray that she may he happy — happier than 
 I can ever hope to be ! Yet, so soon — so soon to forget 
 me ! but I will not murmur, I will endeavour to forget 
 — I will pray for her happiness. Oh, yes, most ardently 
 do I pray that she may find that happiness which is denied 
 to me, and which I can never, never know !” 
 
 ‘‘ Do not talk thus despairingly, my young friend,” 
 said Mr. Dormer ; “ that it is no trifling disappointment 
 you have met with, ifi as I have no reason to doubt, 
 your heart was really given to Fanny Levison, I am 
 very willing to allow. At your age, I know, I should 
 have thought, like you, that the loss was irreparable; but 
 trust the experience of one who has seen forty years 
 more than you have yet to boast, who knows that the 
 deepest wounds are healed by time — and that the most 
 violent grief subsides into a calm. Nay, do not shake 
 your head in that despairing manner,” he continued, with 
 a smile, “ for I shall live yet to hear you acknowledge 
 that I was right, and wonder at your own folly in think- 
 ing it impossible that there could be any happiness in store 
 for you.” 
 
 Denzil did not reply, but his look evinced that he 
 could not agree with his kind friend; and the latter, 
 anxious to divert him from dwelling on this dispiriting 
 subject, immediately reverted to Charles, of whom he 
 related some circumstances, which had come to his 
 knowledge, that utterly astonished the pure heart of 
 Denzil, who could not conceive how it was possible that 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 465 
 
 one, who had been educated in the same manner as him- 
 self, and had begun his career in the world with so many 
 superior advantages, could at once have launched into 
 such extravagant folly and vice. 
 
 Mr. Dormer, however, though he spoke thus freely 
 of him, was evidently far more inclined to palliate and 
 excuse, than condemn the conduct of this thoughtless 
 young man ; and again and again he repeated his deter- 
 mination, if Charles would freely and frankly confide in 
 him, to assist, to the utmost of his abilities, in placing 
 him once more in respectability and independence ; in 
 which, he doubted not, Mr. Levison, sen., would, upon 
 his representation and recommendations, instantly and 
 heartily concur. 
 
 “ At the same time, my good young friend,” concluded 
 Mr. Dormer, “ I must have a solemn pledge from 
 Charles, that he will not on any account renew his con- 
 nexions with those who have been the principal movers 
 in the scenes he has lately engaged in ; and, above all, he 
 must be careful, during the time he remains here, that he 
 steers clear of the numerous dissipated and vicious 
 characters of his own country, whom he will encounter in 
 this place, and who are ever on the watch to trepan 
 the thoughtless and unwary into their nets.” 
 
 DenziFs cheek crimsoned, as he recollected the impru* 
 dence of which his companion had recently been guilty on 
 this head ; but, considering that he had already seen his 
 error, he did not think it necessary to mention the cir- 
 cumstance to Mr. Dormer, and therefore took his leave, 
 promising to return with Charles, at the appointed dinner- 
 hour. 
 
466 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 “ The bright and searching glance of her Ithuriel eye 
 Might even the sternest hypocrite defy 
 To meet it unappall’d ; — ’twould almost seem, 
 
 As though, epitomised in one deep beam, 
 
 Her full collected soul upon the heart, 
 
 Whate’er its mask, she strove at once to dart : 
 
 And few may brave the talisman that ’s hid 
 ’Neath the dark fringes of her drooping lid.” 
 
 Impressed with the sincerest respect for Mr. Dormer, 
 and calculating, with true feeling and pleasure, on the good 
 effects which the acquisition of so valuable a friend would 
 hare upon Charles, Denzil commenced his return 
 towards the hotel, where he expected to find the latter, 
 still suffering from the effects of that penitence and 
 remorse which he (Denzil) imagined he must feel when 
 reflecting on the last night’s imprudence, and his former 
 conduct, which he must be convinced had brought misery 
 and disgrace, not only on himself, hut on his dearest con- 
 nexions. 
 
 Anxious, therefore, to impart to him consolation, and, 
 by change of scene and society, to soothe his wounded 
 spirit, the kind-hearted Denzil hastened along, thinking 
 every moment an age, until he reached him, and scarcely 
 able to restrain his impatience within bounds, at the 
 numerous obstacles which the crowded and narrow 
 streets, now in all the hustle of the busiest part of the 
 day, presented to his speed. 
 
 Of these obstacles, none who have not traversed the 
 narrow streets of Paris, on foot, after a heavy rain, can 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 467 
 
 form any idea. The large pools of mud and water, 
 which, from the want of pavement, must be crossed over 
 upon rotten and tottering planks — the time that is lost, 
 and the danger that accrues from standing up, crushed 
 almost to the wall, by the numerous vehicles which dash 
 along, totally regardless of the safety of those whom they 
 may encounter. 
 
 In no place, probably, in the world, is the loss of 
 human life, or the endangering of personal safety, looked 
 upon with such indifference as in the good city of Paris ; 
 and Denzil never had more occasion to remark this, than 
 now, when, with the utmost difficulty, he succeeded in 
 saving himself, more than once, from being knocked 
 down and trampled upon by the carelessness and reckless 
 speed of the numerous cockers who passed him. 
 
 It was upon one of these occasions that he was with- 
 drawn from the reverie which, in spite of the necessity 
 of being cautious, he could not help falling into, and sud- 
 denly lifted his eyes to the person who had saluted him 
 with the English exclamation, of “ Hoy ! hoy !” which is 
 usually addressed to those who place themselves in 
 danger of an approaching carriage; but what was his 
 surprise, his grief, and his consternation, when he disco- 
 vered that it was from Charles Levison himself that he had 
 received the caution which obliged him to seek safety, by 
 jamming himself up against the wall of a house, while the 
 britschka, in which the latter was seated by the side of 
 Mrs. Wilmington, the ci-devant 3 \jXi 2 l Delaney, passed him. 
 
 The air of gloom and despondency which Charles’s 
 countenance had worn when Denzil left him, was 
 entirely gone ; and as he nodded over his shoulder to the 
 latter, with his usual careless familiarity, his look expressed 
 
468 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 rather triumph and gaiety, than any confusion or shame at 
 this open defiance of all that Denzil had said to him, on 
 the folly and imprudence of forming- such a connexion. 
 
 All Denzil’s visions of repaying the kindness of Mr. 
 Levison towards himself, by rescuing his nephew from 
 the certain ruin into which he was precipitating himself, 
 vanished at the moment he beheld him thus accompanied ; 
 and he stood still, gazing after the vehicle, until it was 
 out of sight, scarcely crediting the evidence of his senses. 
 
 No longer anxious to reach his home, he loitered for 
 nearly an hour on his way thither, revolving in his mind 
 what plea he should offer to Mr. Dormer, for the non- 
 appearance of Charles, after an invitation so amicable and 
 conciliatory as that which had been given by the latter 
 gentleman. 
 
 On the staircase of the hotel, he was met by his faithful 
 servant, Ned, whose looks betrayed that something had 
 occurred to displease and disconcert him ; but Denzil was 
 at that moment too much absorbed in his own painful 
 reflections to be desirous of sharing another’s troubles ; 
 and he would, therefore, have proceeded onward, with- 
 out inquiry, but Ned was too much accustomed to make 
 his master the arbiter of his disputes, and the depositary 
 of his complaints, to suffer him to pass on in silence. 
 
 “ Master Charles is gone out, sir !” he observed, in a 
 sullen tone. 
 
 “ I know it, Ned,” replied his master. 
 
 Ned looked inquiringly in his face. 
 
 Then you kniow, too, who he’s gone with, mayhap ?” 
 rejoined the man. 
 
 ‘‘Yes,” said D'enzil, sighing; “I do know, Ned — for 
 I saw them together.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 469 
 
 “ And oughtn’t Master Charles to be ashamed o’ him- 
 sel ? — Don’t you think, sir,” returned Ned, “ that he be 
 disgracing the family, by driving about with that painted 
 Jezabel? I could not believe my own eyes, when I saw 
 her face, in the fine new-fangled thing they call a — — 
 I forget what — but it’s no matter ! Only, I know, that 
 though I’m but a poor servant, I wouldn’t be seen with 
 she^ if I was to be paid a hundred pounds for it.” 
 
 You are quite right, Ned,” returned Denzil, again 
 sighing, “but we will hope he will see his error soon; I 
 
 have done my best to ” 
 
 “And so have I, sir,” interrupted Ned, warmly; “for 
 
 as soon as ever I saw her drive up to the door, like a 
 
 but I won’t soil my mouth with saying what she looks 
 
 like, for all her beauty and sweet looks howsomever, I 
 
 went up to him, and told him, in plain words, that I hoped 
 he wasn’t going to demean himself, and disgrace you, so 
 much as to be going out with one that had like to have 
 
 been your ruin and your death, and who was ” 
 
 “ Say no more, Ned,” exclaimed Denzil, “ I could not 
 expect that Charles would yield to considerations for me, 
 that which he denies to himself. He knows, he must 
 know, that he is rushing on to certain, irretrievable ruin ; 
 and if that is not sufficient to withhold him, I cannot ex- 
 pect that any considerations towards me will be likely to 
 operate — but what did he reply, Ned, to your remoib 
 strances ?” 
 
 “ He called me what I wouldn’t have put up with from 
 anybody but the nephew of my good master,” returned 
 Ned, angrily ; “ and when I mentioned you, sir, and said 
 I knew you would be greatly hurt and displeased, he told 
 me to go and cant along with you, and not presume to 
 
470 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 dictate to him. Lord knows,” continued Ned, brushing 
 away a tear with the hack of his hand, “ I had no thought 
 of any thing but for his good — for I’m as sorry as if he 
 was my own brother, to see him in a wrong way ; and I 
 can tell very well by his looks that he’s as unhappy as can 
 be, and yet, I suppose, he’ll go on now bringing more 
 trouble on himself, and my poor old master, who, I am 
 sure, has had quite enough of it, one way or another; 
 for somehow every thing’s turned out quite clean cow-^ra-ry, 
 as one may say. There’s you, Mr. Denzil — see what 
 trouble he’s had about you, though it’s not been your 
 fault, that I must say. And then there’s Miss Fanny, 
 poor thing ” 
 
 “ All his anxieties are over, at least, Ned, on her ac- 
 count,” replied Denzil, making an effort to speak with 
 calmness, “ for Miss Levison is on the point of being hap- 
 pily married to a man of rank and fortune.” 
 
 Ned opened his eyes to their fullest extent, and re- 
 mained for a minute silently staring at his master, who, 
 on his part, felt no inclination to break the silence. 
 
 Miss Fanny going to be married !” at length ex- 
 claimed the honest and plain-speaking domestic; “ it can’t 
 never be possible that she’s so unfaithful.” 
 
 Denzil shook his head, without uttering a word. 
 
 “ Well, then. I’ll only say there’s no believing none of 
 womankind — for I’d have been sworn she would no more 
 have thought of having anybody but you, Mr. Denzil, 
 than I should of being married to the queen of England ! 
 Laws, when I saw her pale face bending over you, when 
 you laid sick ; and when I’ve seen her bright sparkling 
 eyes, after you got well, watching you, when you did’nt 
 see her, I’ve thought what a happy man you would be, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 471 
 
 with one who loved you so dearly ; and even when she 
 left you, I knew it was’nt her wish to go : and I shall 
 never forget her when she put a guinea into my hand 
 
 and said, so sweetly and so mournfully ‘ Edward, you 
 
 have always been a good and faithful servant to your 
 master, and pray keep a watchful eye over his health, and 
 do not let him neglect himself — for I know he is not 
 very careful.’ ” 
 
 Did she do so ?” exclaimed Denzil, “ heaven bless 
 her, and grant she may be happy !” 
 
 “ I don’t wish so at all,” observed Ned, ‘‘ if she is so 
 falsehearted as to marry another — but so it is with all 
 womankind ! They are all so easily taken in, if there’s 
 money and titles in the way ; and yet. Miss Fanny 
 always seemed to be such an angel, that I never could 
 have believed it of her ; and, perhaps, after all, she may 
 not be so much to blame — for certainly my old master’s 
 mind was poisoned against you, by somebody or another; 
 and, poor thing, she has suffered herself to be over- 
 persuaded to what, may be, she’ll bitterly repent !” 
 
 “ I hope not, most fervently I hope not,” exclaimed 
 Denzil ; rather, ten thousand times rather, would I 
 believe her the most false and fickle of her sex, than 
 think that she is wretched, with a man whom she can- 
 not love ! But I must not, dare not think of this — I 
 must try, henceforth, to forget that she has ever been to 
 me more than that which once 1 thought her — a dear and 
 valued sister ! Would that this rash and thoughtless 
 Charles were returned ! How much I have to impart 
 to him ! much that ought to make him happy and grate- 
 ful, and yet which, I fear, he will contrive to overthrow 
 by his own imprudence.” 
 
472 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 He’ll never ilo any g’ood, I’m afraid,” ejaculated 
 Ned ; and yet he’s so good-tempered and so frolic- 
 some-like, that one can’t help liking him ; and then, my 
 old master, too, I’m always thinking how it must grieve 
 him, to see him turn out so wild !” 
 
 Though little disposed, in his present state of mind, to 
 mingle with society, Denzil felt that too much respect was 
 due to Mr. Dormer, to permit Ihm to decline the invitation 
 he had given him ; and at the appointed time, therefore, 
 he proceeded to make the necessary change in his dress 
 for dinner, though sadly puzzled and perplexed how he 
 should account for the absence of Charles, without betray- 
 ing this new instance of his folly 
 
 Before he had concluded, however, the voice of 
 Charles was heard in the adjoining room, and Denzil 
 sent Ned to request to speak with him. 
 
 There was somewhat of confusion, but more of recent 
 anger and vexation in the expression of Charles’s counte- 
 nance, as he entered the apartment ; and, without wait- 
 ing for Denzil to explain the purpose for which he had 
 sent for him, he burst into a violent exclamation of rage 
 against some one, from whom it appeared he had received 
 an insult during his excursion. But what was Denzil’s 
 surprise and consternation, when he at length discovered 
 that it was Mr. Dormer himself, against whom Charles 
 was thus outrageously inveighing ; and that all chance, 
 now, of making the arrangements which he had so 
 ardently endeavoured to promote, was at an end. 
 
 By degrees he gathered from his companion, that Mr. 
 Dormer had encountered him in a jeweller’s shop, which 
 Charles had entered, with Mrs. Wilmington, to pur- 
 chase some gewgaw, which she had taken a fancy to. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 473 
 
 ‘‘ The methodistical, canting old fool !” he continued, 
 “ to take such a time as that, just when I was in tip-top 
 spirits, to mortify me, and make me look little in people’s 
 eyes ; and his prude of a niece, blushing up to the eyes, 
 and shrinking away from Julia, as if she thought there 
 was contamination in breathing the same air with her !” 
 
 “ And she was perfectly right,” said Denzil, with 
 warmth ; though, as to prudery, I never saw a girl who 
 less deserved to have the epithet of prude applied to her, 
 than Rosa Somerville. If modesty, innocence, and art- 
 lessness of manner, indeed, can properly be called 
 prudery, she may be considered so ; for never were those 
 qualities more strongly delineated than on the counte- 
 nance and in the manners of Mr. Dormer’s lovely niece 
 — and 1 am heartily sorry, more than sorry, that her feel- 
 ings have been so outraged, as they must have been, to 
 see you in such company.” 
 
 “ Oh, the wind sits in that quarter, does it ?” said 
 Charles, sarcastically. Well, I don’t blame you, 
 Denzil — the girl is passable enough of herself, and her 
 money renders her more than passable. I should have 
 no objection myself to play the hypocrite, and pretend to 
 be very moral and religious, for the sake of twenty thou- 
 sand pounds, beside expectations. Yes — yes, I see it 
 all now, though you have been sly enough not to say that 
 you knew any thing of the Dormers being here — nor 
 would not now, I suppose, if I had not found it out 
 myself?” 
 
 Your observations, Mr. Levison, are scarcely worth 
 replying to,” returned Denzil; ‘‘ but, for ipy own justifi- 
 cation, I must tell you that neither did I, until to-day, 
 know that they were here. As to your insinuations 
 
 3 p 
 
474 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 respecting* my motives for what you are pleased to style 
 hypocrisy, they are beneath even my contempt — but it 
 would be well for you, I suspect, if you would think pro- 
 per to adopt some little ” 
 
 “ Oh, yes, I have no doubt it would be mighty pro- 
 per,” interrupted Charles, hastily ; “ but I neither can or 
 will play the hypocrite, and so you may preach as long as 
 you please !” 
 
 Denzil felt too much irritated and hurt, to reply with 
 calmness ; and he therefore wisely remained silent, until 
 Charles, suddenly observing the preparation which his 
 companion was making to go out, said — 
 
 “ I suppose, then, I am to dine by myself, to-day — for 
 it appears you are engaged out !” 
 
 “ I am engaged where you were likewise invited, 
 Charles,” replied Denzil; ‘‘ and Avhere you would have 
 been truly welcome, had not your imprudence defeated 
 the good which I had hoped to have effected for you. I 
 am going to dine with Mr. Dormer, whose truly kind 
 intentions towards you deserved a far different return 
 than that which it appears you have made. In fact, 
 Charles, it was with the view of entering into some 
 arrangements to remove the embarrassments you are at 
 present suffering, and placing you once more independ- 
 ently in the world, that this engagement was made ; and 
 though I feel that your imprudence will not exonerate 
 me from the charge of incivility and disrespect, should I 
 not keep it, yet I assure you that I am so far from antici- 
 pating any pleasure from the visit, that I would much 
 rather stay at home, could I do so with propriety.” 
 
 What an unlucky dog I am !” exclaimed Charles, at 
 once comprehending the full force of the advantages he 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 4^5 
 
 had forfeited ; “ but how could I foresee that the puri- 
 tanical old fellow was so well inclined towards me ; for, 
 when I was in London, he would not condescend to 
 notice either Emma or me ; and when we sent his 
 niece a card of invitation to a ball, he actually sent it 
 back, with an insulting note to Emma, desiring her never 
 again to take the liberty of considering Miss Somerville 
 as one of her acquaintance, though they are first cousins, 
 you know, Denzil, and were like sisters, when they were 
 children !” 
 
 “ Yes, and Miss Somerville still retains all the kind- 
 ness and affection of a sister towards your wife, Charles,” 
 returned Denzil ; “ and will, 1 am sure, be as much dis- 
 appointed as I am, at your having frustrated the kind 
 intentions which her uncle had entertained towards 
 you.” 
 
 The countenance of Charles betrayed considerable 
 confusion; but, ever unwilling to acknowledge himself 
 in error, he merely observed 
 
 “ Well, it is of no use fretting for what is done, and 
 can’t be undone ; and, after all, what great harm have I 
 committed ? It would be well for Mr. Dormer, as well 
 as many more, I dare say, if they had nothing else to 
 reproach themselves with, than having driven out a pretty 
 woman for a morning’s ride, and bought her a fan 
 because she took a fancy to it — and that, I am sure, is all 
 I have been guilty of !” — And he walked out of the room 
 whistling, with an air of nonchalance^ which, it was very 
 evident, was only assumed to conceal the extent of his 
 vexation at what he had heard. 
 
 Mr. Dormer’s reception of Denzil was, though he 
 tried to conceal it under a studied politeness, much less 
 
476 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 friendly and familiar than his manners had been in the 
 morning. Rosa Somerville’s eyes betrayed that she had 
 been weeping, and Mrs. Dormer, whom Denzil had 
 never seen before, was as cold and ceremonious as it was 
 possible to be towards him. 
 
 Not a word was said respecting Charles’s absence, and 
 Denzil, who felt that it would have been impossible for 
 him to have offered any thing like an excuse for him, 
 was greatly relieved by the silence which was preserved 
 respecting him. 
 
 But this satisfaction was not destined to be of very 
 long duration— the ladies retired almost immediately 
 upon the removal of the cloth, and the small degree of 
 vivacity which Mr. Dormer had kept up, while they 
 were present, almost immediately gave place to a gloomy 
 silence. 
 
 Denzil felt himself for some minutes greatly embar- 
 rassed ; he saw that Mr. Dormer expected him to recur 
 to the subject which had occupied their attention in the 
 morning, and he felt most reluctant to say any thing 
 which could be misinterpreted by the former. 
 
 Convinced, however, at length, that Mr. Dormer felt 
 
 displeased at his silence, he ventured to say 
 
 You met Charles Levison, I understand, sir, this 
 morning, after we parted ” 
 
 “ Yes, I did meet with him, Mr. Montgomery,” 
 replied the old gentleman, testily, “ and was exceedingly 
 gratified to perceive the proofs of amendment and con- 
 trition, of which you spoke so feelingly this morning, 
 most strikingly displayed. I suppose you know, sir,” he 
 continued, “ in whose society I met Mr. Levison, and 
 how he was occupied ? A pretty good evidence, sir, of 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 477 
 
 his penitence, to be seen, immediately upon his arrival 
 here, in the society of the man to whom he, in a great 
 measure, owes his ruin, and whose baneful breath has, 
 I fear, irreparably poisoned the reputation of the poor 
 
 girl who has had the misfortune— ” 
 
 Good heavens ! I knew not that there was any one 
 with him but a female !” exclaimed Denzil. 
 
 And that female, Mr. Montgomery,” rejoined Mr. 
 Dormer, “that female, who was she? Can you look 
 me in the face, sir, and tell me that she was one with 
 whom he ought to be seen? What could she be, 
 to 
 
 “ My dear sir,” interrupted Denzil, hastily, “ do not 
 mistake me — do not suppose, for one moment, that I am 
 intending to vindicate Charles Levison, or to defend the 
 character of that woman, for whom no living being can 
 entertain a more perfect contempt than I do — but I only 
 spoke of my surprise at hearing there was a third person, 
 whom he had not mentioned to me.” 
 
 “ No, sir, I do not suppose he would have mentioned 
 to you, one who has — but no matter, I do not wish to 
 have anything to do with him — I have no right to dictate 
 whom he shall associate with — only, when I hear of 
 his contrition and penitence, I cannot help express- 
 ing ” 
 
 “ I do not wonder, my dear sir, at your feeling angry 
 and disappointed,” observed Denzil ; “ but, believe me, 
 you are not less so than I am. I hope and trust, how- 
 ever, that you will do me the justice to believe that I did 
 not intentionally deceive you, but was myself deceived, 
 when I expressed my belief that Charles was conscious 
 of the impropriety of his past conduct. Indeed, indeed, 
 
478 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 rny dear sir, nothing could exceed my sorrow and sur- 
 prise, when, on my return home, I met Charles in com- 
 pany with that woman, whom, of all others in the world, 
 I should most have wished him to avoid.” 
 
 Then you have known her before, Mr. Montgo- 
 mery?” observed Mr. Dormer, in a softened voice. 
 
 Denzil replied by relating the whole history of his 
 introduction to the Delaneys, and the consequences that 
 had resulted to him from his connexion with them, con- 
 cluding with the adventure which had again brought the 
 ci-devant Miss Julia in his way, and frankly avowing the 
 means by which Charles had become acquainted with 
 her. 
 
 “ Foolish and inconsiderate boy !” exclaimed Mr= 
 Dormer, “ we must try if something cannot be done to 
 save him ; and yet it strikes me, Denzil, that, as it is very 
 evident her views are merely mercenary, when she finds 
 that he has already been fleeced, she will soon shew her- 
 self in her true colours to him, and probably much more 
 effectually than we could do.” 
 
 But if, in the interim, he should receive a supply 
 from his uncle ?” said Denzil. 
 
 “ I will take care to prevent that,” returned Mr. 
 Dormer, “ for I will write this very day to my friend 
 Levison, and anticipate Master Charles, who shall not 
 have a shilling but what comes through my hands, and of 
 which I do not know the expenditure.” 
 
 Denzil did not dare offer any objection to this plan, 
 and Mr. Dormer, now entirely reconciled to his com- 
 panion, soon dismissed the subject, and became so amus- 
 ing over his glass, that the latter, for a time, forgot even 
 his own troubles and vexations, and enjoyed, with a zest 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 479 
 
 he had long been a stranger to, “the feast of reason and 
 the flow of soul.” 
 
 The eyes of Rosa Somerville brightened, and her 
 beautiful mouth relaxed into a smile, when, arm in arm, 
 and laughing heartily at some droll conceit to which Mr. 
 Dormer had just given utterance, Denzil and the former 
 gentleman entered the drawing-room together. Mrs. 
 Dormer’s pale face, too, became more animated — she 
 read in her husband’s looks that he was now per- 
 fectly satisfied with his young companion; and, ever 
 accustomed to be as the mirror that reflected his thoughts 
 and feelings, she became as kind and complaisant towards 
 the latter, as she had before been the reverse. 
 
 The lovely Rosa was all smiles and gaiety — the slight 
 bashfulness, which had given to her manners hitherto 
 somewhat the appearance of embarrassment, gradually 
 vanished before the ease and elegance which Denzil had, 
 from his more free intercourse with the Avorld, now 
 acquired ; and, except that a deep sigh sometimes broke 
 involuntarily from his bosom, and a pensive thought 
 clouded his fair open broAv, as her sweet voice and 
 artless manners reminded him of one whom he believed 
 was now lost to him for ever — and thus betrayed that 
 his heart was ill at ease — none would have believed but 
 that Denzil was as happy as any of the party. 
 
 Mr. Dormer was justifiably proud of the accomplish- 
 ments of his niece, and Rosa, always anxious to please 
 her uncle, and be rewarded with his affectionate smile, 
 was nothing loth to display those talents which had been 
 so highly cultivated. Denzil felt that her music and her 
 singing were perfection itself, and that the total absence 
 of affectation, or attempt at effect, in her manner, was 
 
480 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 hig-lily pleasing. Her portfolio of drawings, too, afforded 
 him a rich treat, and her glowing blush, as he expressed 
 his admiration, rendered still more lovely her beautiful 
 face. The gentle playfulness of her manners with her 
 uncle, and the watchful yet unobtrusive attention with 
 which she regarded her invalid aunt, all combined to 
 render her the most interesting and attractive being he 
 had ever beheld ; yet, even when he gazed on her with 
 the greatest admiration, his thoughts were wandering to 
 another; and Rosa Somerville was less the subject 
 of his admiration, than Fanny Levison. Yet, in no one 
 point was the latter superior to the lovely girl who was 
 now before him, except in that nameless grace, that 
 powerful attraction, with which the lover ever invests the 
 object of his affections. 
 
 Denzll was now completely at home with this amiable 
 family — Mrs. Dormer, who had lost a son under circum- 
 stances of peculiar affliction, a few years before, gazed upon 
 his fine expressive countenance till tears of fond remem- 
 brance dimmed her mild eyes ; and Mr. Dormer, delighted 
 to renew the recollections of his own youth with one who 
 could enter so heartily into his feelings, and whose intelli- 
 gent and occasionally arch and humorous remarks height- 
 ened and improved whatever was the subject of conversa- 
 tion, seemed surprised and sorry when the announcement of 
 eleven o’clock warned them that it was time to separate. 
 
 “ A few words on the subject of Charles Levison, my 
 young friend,” he observed, as they stood together in 
 the hall, waiting for the fiacre to come up to the door. 
 ‘‘ I would still, if it were in my power, redeem him from 
 ruin — but I dare not now ask you to bring him here — 
 it would be an insult to the females of my family, after 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 481 
 
 what Rosa unfortunately saw and heard yesterday ; but 
 I will, if you will not consider me an intruder, breakfast 
 with you to-morrow morning, and I shall then have an 
 opportunity of judging, from his own lips, what prospect 
 there is of being able to do for him that which I am most 
 anxious to perform, less for his own sake, I acknowledge, 
 than for those with whom he is, unfortunately for them, 
 so intimately connected.” 
 
 Denzil pressed the hand which was held out to him, 
 and, having mentioned the breakfast hour, departed. 
 
 “ Is Mr. Levison gone to bed he inquired of one of 
 the servants, who awaited his approach. 
 
 ‘‘ No, sare — he have one, two, tree gentilhomme wid 
 him — dey wait for you for soiiper.^^ 
 
 “ I have supped, and shall retire immediately — tell 
 Charles so, Ned,” observed Denzil, to his servant, who 
 at that moment came forward to receive him. 
 
 “ I will tell him so, sir, if you please,” returned Ned, 
 in a reluctant tone ; “ but, really, only I know I oughtn’t 
 to take upon me to give advice ” 
 
 “ Speak out freely, Ned — what is it you would 
 advise ?” replied his master. 
 
 “ Why, then, sir, I think if you were to go among 
 them, it might check them, and shame them a little — for 
 they have been getting on at a fine rate for these last three 
 hours ; and it’s quite plain that Mr. Charles is only being 
 made a fool of. I couldn’t have thought it of Mr. St. 
 George, for though I knew he was a wild gentleman, I 
 didn’t think he would have encouraged anything that 
 was wrong; but there they have been drinking and 
 
 gambling, and ^but it’s no matter, only I think you 
 
 might shame them a little, and ” 
 
482 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Denzil waited to hear no more, but walked forward to 
 tlie room, where their noise betrayed that Ned had not 
 exaggerated, in his account of their intemperance. 
 
 “ Here’s the real Simon Pure, at last !” vociferated 
 Charles, as Denzil entered. “ Well, my boy, how have 
 you passed the evening ? Very rationally, piously, 
 morally^ eh ? Held the same prayer-book as the pretty 
 Rosa, and sung second to the evening hymn, haven’t I hit 
 it now ?” 
 
 Though vexed and mortified, Denzil could not for- 
 bear joining in the laugh which this created. 
 
 “ Mr. Montgomery’s piety sits well upon him, how- 
 ever,” observed St. George, looking at him with an air 
 of thoughtfulness; ‘‘ I never saw him look better, or 
 handsomer, in my life.” 
 
 Who wouldn’t look well and handsome, who has 
 passed a whole evening in the society of Rosa Somerville 
 — whose beauty is enough to create a life, even in the 
 ribs of death ?” observed one of the party, whom Denzil 
 did not recollect to have seen before, but who had been, 
 on his first entrance, introduced to him by St. George as 
 Mr. Aubigne. 
 
 “ Well, I confess, I never saw this surpassing loveli- 
 ness,” observed another, whom Denzil immediately 
 recognised as the person of whom Mr. Dormer had spo- 
 ken with so much contempt, as having been at the bottom 
 of all Charles Levison’s extravagance and folly ; “ never- 
 theless,” he continued, I shall take the liberty of pro- 
 posing her health in a bumper.” 
 
 Denzil’s fine countenance glowed with indignation as 
 he heard the libertine jests, the unlicensed remarks, and 
 the freedom with which the name of this lovely and 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 483 
 
 modest girl was bandied about from one to another. Unac- 
 customed to mix in such society as that which he was 
 now reluctantly forced into, he could scarcely restrain 
 himself from g-iving- vent to his feelings ; and the hesi- 
 tating manner in which he lifted the glass to his lips, and 
 the low and hurried tone in which he repeated the name 
 which he considered degraded by being uttered in such 
 company, at once excited the derision of his companions, 
 and induced them to persevere in the remarks which they 
 saw excited his uneasiness. 
 
 For some time Denzil bore this with comparative 
 calmness; but when, at length, Charles, as if determined 
 to probe him to the cjuick, introduced the name of Fanny 
 Levison, he became unable to endure it any longer, and 
 hastily rising from the chair, exclaimed 
 
 “ Her name shall not be sported with, Mr. Levison. 
 If the ties of blood have no influence over you, those of 
 gratitude are too forcibly felt by me, to allow me 
 patiently to hear your cousin’s name thus lightly spoken 
 of!” 
 
 ‘‘ Aha !” observed one of the party, ‘‘ gratitude ! You 
 are a lucky fellow, Mr. Montgomery — gratitude to a fair 
 lady, is not a very burthensome feeling, I should think.” 
 
 “ I wish Miss Levison would try my gratitude,” added 
 St. George. “ Talk of 3mur Julias and Rosas I I would 
 give all the charms they ever possessed, for one smile 
 from the lovely lips of Fanny Levison !” 
 
 Denzil’s blood boiled in his veins, but when, in addi- 
 tion to this impertinence, he heard Charles, in a voice 
 which, though intended to be heard only by St. George, 
 was sufficiently audible for the whole room to compre- 
 hend it, utter a remark derogatory to the honour of her 
 
484 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 whose very name should have been sacred with him, the 
 rage, which Denzil had so long restrained, burst forth, and 
 before Charles had time to apprehend the danger that 
 menaced him, he was levelled to the ground, by a blow 
 from that hand, which had so often shielded him from 
 danger, so often grasped his, in all the cordiality of fra- 
 ternal love. 
 
 A scene of direful confusion ensued — enfuriated with 
 wine, and maddened by the blow he smarted under, 
 Charles resisted every effort of his companions to hold 
 him; — the table, bottles, glasses, all were upset and 
 broken ; and Denzil, with whom repentance had instantly 
 followed the violence he had committed, was now, in his 
 turn, a sufferer from the rage he had excited in the 
 bosom of his early friend and companion. Charles, 
 indeed, now fought with all the strength and fury, but 
 with the same want of caution and prudence, as a maniac; 
 while Denzil, fully awakened to the consequences and 
 disgraceful nature of the contest in which he had 
 engaged, endeavoured only to ward off the blows of his 
 opponent, and prevent his doing any farther mischief. 
 All his efforts, however, could not prevent his receiving 
 several severe blows, and he would have been completely 
 overpowered by the violence and reckless fury of 
 Charles, had not his servant Ned, alarmed by the 
 uproar, rushed into the room, and thrown himself between 
 them. 
 
 “ Oh, my dear master, oh, Mr. Charles !” he ex- 
 claimed, ‘‘ for heaven’s sake, consider ! Consider my 
 poor master, and Miss >-"anny, and poor Miss Rachel. 
 Oh, their hearts would be broken, if they could see this ! 
 Oh. Air. Charles ! — Web. then, sir, if you won’t be 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 485 
 
 quiet by fair means ” And in a moment Charles 
 
 was pinioned fast down in a chair, by the athletic 
 youth, who having both the advantage of coolness 
 and superior strength, held him there, in spite of all his 
 struggles and execrations, until he was so completely ex- 
 hausted as to be glad to give the assurance which Ned 
 insisted upon, that he would not strike another bloAV, but 
 would go quietly to bed. 
 
 The rage which was kindled in DenziPs bosom, was by 
 this time totally subdued ; and, as Charles passed him, he 
 
 held out his hand, observing 
 
 ‘‘ Charles, Charles, I am sorry, very sorry that this 
 should have happened !” 
 
 Curse your sorrow, and you, too, you vile hypocrite !” 
 exclaimed Charles, dashing away the proffered hand. ‘Mt 
 is all of a piece with your whole conduct!” he continued; 
 
 “ your life has been all deception, and ” 
 
 “Master — sir — Mr. Montgomery — praydon^t listen to 
 him! — don’t speak to him!” exclaimed Ned, in accents of 
 terror. “ He’ll be sorry to-morrow, indeed he will !” 
 
 “Never!” said Charles, with vehemence; “you think 
 I am drunk, Denzil, and that I know not what I say — 
 but I do know, well enough ! — I know, I have long known, 
 that you are a cool, calculating villain, and that it is your 
 fawning hypocrisy that has made my uncle my enemy! 
 But he shall know you, he shall see you in your true 
 
 colours, and he shall judge whether ” 
 
 “ I will hear you no longer, Mr. Levison !” inter- 
 rupted Denzil, every nerve quivering with agony, at this 
 false and malicious accusation, so totally unlooked-for, 
 and unexpected from one whose worst faults, in the eyes 
 ol his friend, had been credulity, and blind faith in the 
 
486 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 seemings and professions of others. “ I will not now discuss 
 this subject with you — but to-morrow, sir, to-morrow,” 
 (and his eyes darted lightning,) I shall expect and de- 
 mand satisfaction for your injurious — your false — your 
 base aspersions !” 
 
 No, no, no !” ejaculated Ned, turning pale with 
 affright. “ Oh no, for heaven’s sake, don’t talk of it ! 
 You wouldn’t, surely you wouldn’t — you that have been 
 brothers all your lives. Oh, that my poor old master 
 were here ! Gentlemen — dear Mr. St. George, pray 
 speak to them ! Don’t let them part in malice ! Pray, 
 good, dear Mr. Charles, I will go down on my knees to 
 you, if you will only say you are sorry ! I know, Mr. 
 Denzil is sorry — I know it would break his heart, if any 
 thing was to happen between you, to make my old master 
 grieve. And Miss Fanny, too, she would go mad, if you 
 were to harm each other; and, after all, you know you 
 love one another, in your hearts — how can you do other- 
 wise ? Pray, then, pray shake hands, and forget all that 
 has vexed you both. Mr. St. George, I know you are 
 kindhearted, won’t you try to persuade Mr. Charles ?” 
 
 I am sure, my good lad,” observed Mr. St. George, 
 in a tone of feeling, “ if your simple eloquence does not 
 prevail on them to forget all animosity, it is not very 
 likely my representations should be of any use. How- 
 ever, I will say, that I hope, if the subject is renewed 
 to-morrow, that Mr. Montgomery will have sense 
 enough to be satisfied with the acknowledgment which I 
 am sure Mr. Levison will then feel himself bound to make, 
 that all he has said to-night was unwarrantable and un- 
 founded, and arose only from the irritability of intoxica- 
 tion, and the passion induced by Mr. Montgomery’s 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 487 
 
 attack upon him. I am sure, too, that Mr. Montgomery 
 will not hesitate to say that he is sorry, that, in the heat 
 of passion, he so far forgot himself as to offer personal 
 violence to his friend and brother — for as a brother I am 
 sure he has ever regarded Mr. Levison.” 
 
 I will willingly say so now, before you all,” observed 
 Denzil, if Charles will confess that he is sorry for what 
 he uttered respecting one whose unsullied fame, whose 
 innocence, and whose unblemished virtue, ought to have 
 protected her, even had she had no other claims upon 
 him.” 
 
 “ What was it I said ?” demanded Charles, staring 
 about him, with all the vacancy of subsiding intoxication. 
 “ ril be hanged if I know now, even what we were talk- 
 ing about, or who he means. Oh, Rosa Somerville, was 
 it not ?” he continued, looking at Denzil. ‘‘ Tm sure I 
 know nothing I said of her, more than I would say of 
 any other woman.” 
 
 “ Aye, of your own wife, or your cousin Fanny, or 
 any other pretty girl that came into your head — was it 
 not so, Levison ?” said Mr. St. George. 
 
 ‘‘ Exactly so,” returned Charles, in a tone of indiffer- 
 ence, “ I have no cause to speak ill of one of them, more 
 than the other — nor of any of them, more than of the 
 whole sex.” 
 
 There, Mr. Montgomery — if that does not satisfy 
 you, and make you ashamed of your violence, you are 
 very unreasonable,” said St. George, significantly. “ Come, 
 say at once that you are satisfied, and I am sure Charles 
 will not be inexorable.” 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, no,” said Charles, ‘‘I have no objection to forget 
 and forgive, and we will have a bowl of brandy punch to 
 
488 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 heal our wounds. I shall have a fine black eye, I suspect,” 
 putting his hand up to his face, what the devil will Julia 
 
 say to it, to-morrow? and I have promised her 
 
 “ And what the devil business has Julia with your black 
 eye? or what right had you to promise her anything?” 
 interrupted St. George. ‘‘ Come, Mr. Levison, you and 
 I must now have a little word of explanation, if you 
 please ; for, whatever you may think, I see no reason 
 why you should imagine yourself privileged to talk and 
 
 act towards Julia as if ” 
 
 “ Lord, lord, Mr. St. George,” interrupted Ned, who 
 now began to fear another quarrel, and was proud of the 
 good his interference had effected, ^‘you don’t surely 
 think any thing of what Mr. Charles says, or does ; if 
 
 you did but know him as well as I do ” 
 
 « Why, you rascal, what do you mean ?” interrupted 
 Charles, angrily. 
 
 ‘‘ I only mean, sir, that you never do any thing with a 
 bad intention, you know you don’t,” replied Ned ; and 
 all the scrapes you ever got into, and you know they’ve 
 been a good many — and many a time I’ve got you out of 
 ’em, — they’ve all been only for want of thought, or just 
 because you haven’t had any thing better to do.” 
 
 St. George burst into a loud laugh, and all his anger 
 seemed dispelled in a minute. 
 
 “ Ned is certainly the most convincing orator in the 
 world,” he observed. I know not how he has acquired 
 the talent, but he never fails to succeed, on whatever side 
 he embarks.” 
 
 “ Because I never speak nothing but the truth, sir,” 
 observed Ned, his open, honest countenance flushing with 
 triumph at this second instance of his success; ‘‘and, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 489 
 
 though I know IVe no business to make so bold here, yet 
 I must say that if gentlemen would only do as I do, just 
 ask their own consciences, before they say or do any 
 thing, whether they would like it to be done to them, — 
 there wouldn’t be half so much wickedness and quarrell- 
 ing as there is among great folks.” 
 
 Hear him ! hear him ! hear him !” shouted the 
 whole room, with the exception of Denzil, who, vexed, 
 dispirited, and dissatisfied, both with himself and all 
 around him, longed only to escape, without giving room 
 for observation or sneering remark, from the scene of 
 riot and confusion which was so disconsonant to him. 
 Towards Charles he now felt no other sensation than 
 pity— yet the accusations, the malicious epithets which 
 the latter had applied to him, still dwelt painfully on his 
 memory, unfounded and undeserved as he felt them to 
 be. 
 
 With Charles, however, all recollection of the cause 
 of their quarrel seemed to have vanished ; and though 
 his swollen eye forbade him to forget that there had 
 been violence between him and Denzil, he seemed to 
 consider the matter as fully at rest between them, and 
 was only anxious, as he said, that they should drown all 
 care and sorrow in the bowl. 
 
 The punch which he had orderd was brought in, and 
 Denzil, after enduring with pain, for another half hour, 
 the folly and ribaldry which was circulated around it, 
 had at length the opportunity, which he so ardently 
 longed for, of retiring to his own chamber; his com- 
 panions having now become so completely inebriated as 
 not to oppose, or even observe his retreats 
 
490 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIIL 
 
 “ Tell me, thou syren Hope, deceiver, say 
 
 Where is the promised period of my woes ? 
 
 Full three long years have roll’d away. 
 
 And yet I weep, a stranger to repose.** 
 
 Wearied with the extraordinary exertions, both of 
 mind and body, which he had been forced into on the 
 preceding day, Denzil awoke not until the voice of Ned 
 at his bed-side informed him that Mr. Dormer was already 
 in the breakfast-room, and apparently chagrined at find- 
 ing no one there to receive him. 
 
 Denzil started up — he had forgotten the engagement 
 of the preceding night — forgotten Mr. Dormer — for- 
 gotten every thing, but the wrong that had been done 
 him, and the probability that there were others who 
 believed him to be the despicable character which Charles 
 had represented him, and to whom it would be impos- 
 sible to vindicate himself. 
 
 The name of Mr. Dormer brought with it a train of 
 different ideas — he recollected all that the latter had said, 
 and the purpose of his present visit; and, humiliated, 
 vexed, and ashamed, both for himself and him who had 
 been the primary cause of all his vexation, he prepared, 
 as quickly as possible, to meet Mr. Dormer. 
 
 “ Good gracious, sir, how your lip is cut, and your 
 face bruised !” exclaimed Ned, as his master was dress- 
 ing ; “ where could my eyes have been, not to see it last 
 night? But, indeed, I was so frightened at what might 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 491 
 
 happen, that I did not think of what had happened. Law, 
 law, what will the g-entleman think ? — and so precise, so 
 neat, and so nice as he looks, too.’^ 
 
 Denzil felt that Ned^s observation might have been 
 spared', for the smarting pains he endured had already 
 suggested to him the unpleasantness of appearing before 
 Mr. Dormer in such a plight. He looked in the glass, 
 but shrunk back, more than ever chagrined ; for his face 
 not only bore the marks of the blows he had received, 
 but the effects of the violent passions which had agitated 
 him, and of the unusual quantity he had drunk. The 
 colour had entirely left his cheeks, and his eyes, instead 
 of possessing their usual animation, were heavy and 
 blood-shotten. 
 
 “ I cannot avoid it, however,” he observed, and 
 therefore it is useless to reflect upon it and hurrying 
 on his clothes, he hastened to the breakfast-room. 
 
 Mr. Dormer’s looks betrayed his surprise and conster- 
 nation — but he said nothing for some minutes; and 
 Denzil, glad even of this short respite, busied himself at 
 the breakfast-table. 
 
 ‘‘ Will not Mr. Levison honour us with his com- 
 pany?” inquired Mr. Dormer, after looking several 
 times towards the door, with considerable anxiety. 
 
 Denzil started at his own remissness, in not having 
 sent to let Charles know that his company was expected. 
 
 I will send and inquire, sir,” he replied, with embar- 
 rassment, but I am almost fearful that ” 
 
 “ I see, sir, that I am too pressing in my services,” 
 observed Mr. Dormer, with evident chagrin; ‘‘but do 
 not let me be an intruder, I beg. I am fearful that I have 
 called you unseasonably from your repose.” 
 
492 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ My dear sir, I hope — pray do not speak to me in 
 this manner — I am already very, very unhappy, and if I 
 
 lose your good opinion ” Denzil stopped suddenly, 
 
 for he felt at that moment the full force of the injury 
 which Charles had done him. 
 
 ‘‘ Well, well, I am sure, Denzil, I have no wish to 
 think otherwise than well of you,” replied Mr. Dormer ; 
 “ but, really, I am so disappointed in my expectations — 
 my reception has been so different to what I anticipated 
 ■ — but do explain what has been the matter. Charles, 
 surely, has not been the cause of your altered appearance. 
 He has not ” 
 
 “ Charles has been very imprudent ag-ain,” replied 
 Denzil ; ‘‘ but I have to blame my own impetuosity and 
 rashness, in a great measure, for these pretty beauty- 
 spots,” — and he tried to force a smile. 
 
 My dear lad, what has been the matter ?” exclaimed 
 Mr. Dormer, resuming all his former kindness of 
 manner. 
 
 Denzil replied by briefly detailing the occurrences of 
 the preceding evening, omitting only that part in which 
 Miss Somerville’s name had been called in question, 
 
 Mr. Dormer’s eyes kindled with indignation towards 
 the misguided young man, for whom he had so greatly 
 interested himself, while at the same time he expressed 
 himself highly pleased with the manner in which Denzil 
 had acted. 
 
 “You are a noble fellow, Denzil,” he exclaimed; 
 “ may you always preserve your heart as uncorrupted, 
 and your habits as untainted by society, as they now are ! 
 I know, too well, to what extremes young men will 
 often go, in defiance of their own hearts and better jiidg-r 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 493 
 
 ment. It would have been wiser, perhaps, on your part, 
 to have let it all pass unnoticed, but it was an error of* 
 the head, which does honour to the heart. I hope, 
 however, that you had the best of the contest, and that 
 Mr. Charles has not escaped scot-free.” 
 
 ‘‘ I am fearful, indeed, sir, that he received some 
 rather severe marks — more, however, from his own 
 intemperance than mine,” said Denzil. 
 
 I am glad of it — glad of it, with all my heart !” 
 exclaimed Mr. Dormer. “ I hope he will not be able to 
 shew his face for a month — I should like to see him, too 
 — I should like to see how the rascal would look !” 
 
 He had scarcely finished speaking, before Charles 
 entered the room, evidently quite unprepared to encoun- 
 ter Mr. Dormer, whom he stared at for some moments, 
 without appearing to recognise. 
 
 You do not seem to know me, Mr. Levison,” 
 observed the latter ; ‘‘ and, really, I should have scarcely 
 recognised you, had I not been prepared to expect you. 
 Is it this fine climate, that has made such a wonderful 
 alteration in your appearance ?” 
 
 You are pleased to be facetious, sir,” said Charles, 
 trying to conceal his confusion under an appearance of 
 nonchalance. ‘‘ I am, however, glad to see that you still 
 retain your usual good health and spirits.” 
 
 Yes, I still keep on ‘ the even tenor of my way,’ ” 
 replied Mr. Dormer, “ but come, sit down and take your 
 breakfast, and perhaps we shall find some means of 
 restoring you to your usual good spirits.” 
 
 Charles sighed heavily, and stole a look at Denzil, 
 whose eyes he had hitherto avoided ; but he met there 
 no expression but of kindness and commiseration, and. 
 
494 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 by degrees, the sense of shame and humiliation, so novel 
 to him, subsided before the etforts which both Denzil and 
 Mr. Dormer made to reconcile him to himself, and to 
 convince him of their friendly intentions towards him. 
 
 All allusions to the affray of the preceding night were 
 carefully avoided, though Mr. Dormer could not help 
 stealing occasionally a sly look at Denzil, in derision and 
 mischievous exultation at the rueful figure which their 
 companion made, with his eye bound up, and sundry 
 other visible signs of the chastisement he had received. 
 
 They had not finished breakfast, before St. George, 
 accompanied by Mr. Aubigne, entered the room, 
 evidently prepared to indulge their satirical wit at the 
 expense of Charles and Denzil. 
 
 At sight of Mr. Dormer, however, they both drew 
 back, and Mr. Aubigne uttering a confused apology, 
 would have quitted the room, had not Mr. Dormer risen 
 and prevented it. 
 
 “ So, sir,” he observed, ‘‘ we have met once more, 
 it seems ; and, as usual, very little to the satisfaction of 
 either. This, then, is the penitence, the reformation you 
 promised? — These are the honest exertions, by which 
 you were to redeem your character, and provide for your 
 necessities ? I find you again, it seems, mingling with 
 the thoughtless and the dissipated — I know not that there 
 are any here” (looking earnestly at St. George) ‘‘ who 
 deserve a worse denomination — though sure I am, that, 
 to be associated with a scoundrel and a robber, as you 
 are— — ” 
 
 A robber !” exclaimed Mr. St. George, “ that is a 
 harsh term, sir ! I know not who you are, but, I trust, 
 my friend here ” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 495 
 
 Oh, your friend^ you avow him to be, sir,” interrupted 
 Mr. Dormer. “ Then, to you, I imagine, no justifica- 
 tion of the appellation I have used towards him is neces- 
 sary. You are, probably,” he added, significantly, “well 
 acquainted with his character ; but, as I cannot suppose 
 my young friends here,” (pointing to Charles and Denzil,) 
 “ are so well informed, I shall take the liberty of telling 
 them that this accomplished gentleman, who seems to be 
 on such familiar terms with them and you, once honoured 
 me so far as to stand behind my chair at dinner — open 
 the door of ray carriage — in short, was that unnecessary, 
 useless thing, called a footman; in which capacity, I sup- 
 pose, he picked up those second-hand airs, by which he 
 has been enabled to sustain the character it appears he 
 has assumed. But the worst is yet to come — for, not 
 content with the ample wages he so lightly earned, he 
 entered into a confederacy with some others, to rob me ! 
 Yes, that fashionable, well-looking gentleman there opened 
 the door of my house at midnight, to those whom he 
 well knew would not scruple to add the crime of murder 
 to that of theft ! The goodness of Providence defeated 
 their intentions ; and I, foolishly listening to the plead- 
 ings of a merciful disposition, rather than the dictates of 
 stern justice, took pity on his youth — believed his profes- 
 sions of penitence — and suffered him to escape ! Of his 
 history since, I know nothing — nor should I now have 
 exposed what I do know, had I not found him in the cha- 
 racter of an impostor, who has, no doubt, been practising 
 on your credulity, and w’ould, before he quitted you, have 
 undoubtedly given you ample reason to repent of your 
 credulity. Say, young man — I know not by what name 
 you call yourself — have I exaggerated in this account of 
 our former acquaintance ?” 
 
496 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ‘‘ No, sir, it is all true !” replied the young- man, in a 
 faltering voice. “ There is one part only that you have 
 passed over in my story.” 
 
 “ And, pray, what is that, sir ?” demanded Mr. Dormer, 
 with earnestness. 
 
 ‘‘ Only that you have omitted to state how many times, 
 previous to that horrible night, your goodness had relieved 
 me from the distress which my wretched predilection for 
 gambling had so often brought upon me. Yes, sir, I ac- 
 knowledge that the various sums of money which you 
 so liberally bestowed upon me, under the belief that they 
 were appropriated to the support of my widowed mother 
 and a family of children, were all dissipated at the low 
 gaming-house which I then frequented.” 
 
 “ And yet, with all this seeming remorse for your past 
 actions,” observed Mr. Dormer, in a softened tone, 
 what is now your mode of life ? Can you look me in 
 the face, and say that you are honestly maintaining the 
 appearance you bear ? Those clothes, that watch, and 
 all the et ceteras that stamp you in appearance a man of 
 
 fashion, are they the fruits of honest industry, or ” 
 
 “ No, sir, I will not deceive you — I dare not,” replied 
 the young man; “^but, when I acknowledge this, I will 
 also ask you — I will appeal to your candour — what was 
 I to do ? You spared my life, it is true — for, probably, 
 it would have been forfeited to the laws against which I 
 had offended ; but I had lost the means of supporting that 
 life with honesty — my character was gone. I had never 
 been used to work ; and, if I had, who would have em- 
 ployed me ! No, sir, — believe me, often and often have 
 I been tempted even to reproach you for having saved 
 my life, and left me without the means of maintaining it; 
 as 1 would — yes, God knows my heart, T would — have 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 497 
 
 forsworn all those practices which now I am compelled 
 to ! Oh, how have I been tempted to curse the folly 
 which bestowed upon me education and habits, and 
 encouraged expectations to which 1 had not the slightest 
 pretensions. But my poor weak mother believed her 
 son was born to become a gentleman, and so she 
 laboured patiently and indefatigably for years to maintain 
 me in idleness. She died, and I was thrown upon the 
 world, a helpless, useless being, as you properly styled 
 me.’' 
 
 I was not speaking of you, but the whole class of 
 modern fine gentlemen’s servants,” observed Mr. Dor- 
 mer ; “ but you are a strange young man — a very strange 
 man,” (and he wiped his eyes) and if I were thoroughly 
 convinced of your sincerity — Why did you not write to 
 me ? why did you not state all you have said so well 
 now ? 1 am sure you must have known enough of my 
 character — you are competent enough to judge that I 
 should not have been inaccessible to the voice of truth.” 
 
 I could not, sir,” returned the young man, “ for, 
 having experienced the kindness and confidence of your 
 disposition so often, I feared you would be induced to 
 offer to take me back into your service ; and that, of all 
 things, I could not have borne to accept ! I could not 
 live to know that my every action was viewed with suspi- 
 cion, by those who had regarded me with kindness and 
 confidence. You, sir,” and he cast down his eyes with 
 increased confusion, you, I am not alluding to — for well 
 I know that had you again taken me into your service 
 I should have experienced no mistrust or suspicion — but 
 there were others — oh, I could have died sooner than 
 
 have seen Miss Somerville look at me with fear and sus- 
 
 3 8 
 
498 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 picion ; and to feel, too, that I had deserved it — to know 
 that I had forfeited every claim to her confidence ; and 
 yet, heaven knows, my heart knows, the wretchedness, the 
 
 misery that made me consent to but it is of no use 
 
 to recal that horrible transaction.” 
 
 “ No, no,” observed Mr. Dormer, “ we will say no 
 more of that — think no more of it — nor must we think 
 of your coming back into my house ; that will not do — 
 will not do at all !” he repeated, significantly ; “ but 
 something shall be done for you — something better 
 suited to your inclinations and capacity. You have 
 abilities, young man, and I will yet believe that you have 
 also feelings and principles that would not disgrace any 
 station ; and I shall live, I trust, to hear you yet acknow- 
 ledge that as a blessing, which you have rightly considered 
 a curse to you ! Let me speak n word with you !” And 
 he led him out of the room. 
 
 “ This is a pretty lesson for us,” observed St. George, 
 looking at Charles ; as for Mr. Montgomery, he, of 
 course, is not included in the class of Mr. Dormer’s 
 pupils — I hope, however, that the old gentleman will 
 not think I was the voluntary companion of a house- 
 breaker.” 
 
 “ I fear you are often the companion of those whose 
 principles and feelings would bear no comparison with 
 those of this housebreaker,” observed Denzil, who felt 
 displeased at the tone of levity which St. George assumed. 
 
 Mr. Dormer re-entered ‘‘ Your friend is gone, 
 
 sir,” he laconically observed, looking at St. George. 
 
 “ Which is as much as to say that my company can 
 be dispensed with, sir,” replied the latter, starting up 
 and speaking with his usual calmness of manner. ‘‘ I 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER 
 
 499 
 
 hope, however, before I take my leave, that you will 
 allow me to say that I was totally ignorant, until now, of 
 the character of the person you are pleased to designate 
 my friend. That I became casually acquainted with 
 him at a house to which we both resorted ; and that his 
 frequent mention of a name so well known and respected 
 as Mr. Dornier^s, added to his specious manners and 
 appearance, had prevented my entertaining the slightest 
 suspicion that he was other than he pretended to be.’* 
 
 “ And, in return for my listening to this vindication of 
 yourself, in which I can, of course, have no interest, will 
 you allow me, sir, to ask you one question ?” 
 
 “ Certainly, sir,” replied St. George, evidently dis- 
 concerted at the cool sarcastic tone which Mr. Dormer 
 assumed. 
 
 “ Well, then, I would ask you, on your honour, what 
 is the character of the house to which you both resorted, 
 and for what purpose did you go thither ?” 
 
 St. George’s usually intrepid face was dyed the deep- 
 est scarlet. 
 
 “ As to the character of the house — I only know it as 
 a house where gentlemen resort to amuse themselves ; 
 and, as to my motives in resorting thither, I can only say, 
 that they were the same as those of others — pour passer 
 le terns. 
 
 “ Thank you, sir, thank you — I am perfectly satisfied, 
 perfectly so,” said Mr. Dormer, in the same cool, cutting 
 manner. “ You have answered that question, and I have 
 no more to ask.” 
 
 “ Which is as much as to say I may now depart,” 
 observed St. George. However, I have one, and only 
 one more observation to make ; and that is, that, how- 
 
500 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ever I may be inclined to concede to Mr. Dormer the 
 privilege of making whatever observations he pleases 
 respecting my character — however I may feel that his age 
 protects him from any resentment I might feel — yet I shall 
 not be equally indulgent, should persons, whom I may 
 consider my equals, be inclined to take the same liberty.” 
 
 ‘‘ You need not fear, sir,” observed Mr. Dormer, ‘‘ I 
 can answer for it there are none here, who will feel 
 themselves on sufficiently equal terms with you, to take 
 any of the liberties you would deprecate.” 
 
 St. George was about to reply, but Mr. Dormer 
 having turned to Charles, as if he considered the matter 
 now entirely at rest between him and the former, so 
 completely disconcerted him, that, without uttering a 
 word to any one, he made his usual familiar nod to 
 Denzil, and quitted the room. 
 
 “ Signor Huffcap is gone, then?” said Mr. Dormer, 
 looking round. I am glad of it, for I began to think 
 that, notwithstanding all his professions of considera- 
 tion for my age, I should stand a fair chance of getting 
 thrashed, if he stayed much longer; but, now, what will 
 you think of the honour of this gentleman, when I tell 
 you that the young man, who has just quitted us, acknow- 
 ledged to me that this same Mr. St. George possesses no 
 other means of living than are derived from the gaming 
 table; in other words, that he is a professed sharper. 
 
 I speak this to you in confidence,” he continued, 
 “for in confidence it was entrusted to me; and it was for 
 your sakes only, my young friends, that I drew from that 
 poor lad the truth of my suspicions. And now, Charles, 
 to you especially I address myself, because I consider 
 Denzil^s disposition is a sufficient protection ; but you — 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 501 
 
 I do entreat, implore, by every tie that is sacred, for your 
 own sake, and for the sake of those who are or ought to 
 be dear to you, that you will solemnly resolve to relin- 
 quish all connexions, not only with St. George, but with 
 all of the same stamp and coinage, with whom you have 
 unfortunately become entangled.” 
 
 “ I will, my dear sir, I will !” said Charles, with fer- 
 vour. ‘‘ I do indeed feel that I have acted very shame- 
 fully ; and, though I have but a faint recollection of what 
 occurred last night, yet I know I was in the wrong, and 
 that I ought to ask Denzil’s forgiveness, and ” 
 
 ‘‘ Do not say another word,” observed Denzil, with 
 friendly warmth, “ I, too, was to blame — and if you will 
 only say that all you laid to my charge, was the result of 
 the malice of the moment, and that you do not think me 
 the base ” 
 
 “ Good Hoa’i ecs, Denzil, what could I lay to your 
 charge ? — you, who have been the noblest, most disinter- 
 ested being that ever lived !” exclaimed Charles. “ No, 
 it was only yesterday that I was vindicating you from an 
 
 accusation, that ” he paused, as if recollecting that he 
 
 was betraying too much, and Denzil immediately rejoined, 
 
 ‘‘ Tell me but one thing, Charles, and I shall be satis- 
 fied — tell me, was it not Julia, to whom you found it ne- 
 cessary to vindicate me?” 
 
 ‘‘ I acknowledge it was,” replied Charles. 
 
 “ That is sufficient,” said Denzil, “ for it proves to me 
 that what you uttered was not the suggestion of your own 
 heart, but the dictates of another ; one whose own bad 
 imagination I know to be quite equal to such an invention.” 
 
 ‘‘ I know it all, now — I remember all,” observed 
 Charles, ‘‘ Forgive me, Denzil — it was not, indeed, my 
 
502 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 heart that spoke, but the bad passions which the liquor I 
 had drunk, had raised there.” 
 
 Denzil shook the hand heartily which he held out to 
 him, and, ashamed of the weakness which unmanned him, 
 rushed out of the room. 
 
 It was nearly an hour before he returned ; and when 
 he did so, he found Mr. Dormer and Charles still in 
 earnest conversation. The burning blush of shame was 
 still lingering on the cheek of Charles, and Mr. Dormer’s 
 serious and troubled countenance betrayed that he had 
 met with much to vex and distress him, in the disclosures 
 which the former had been making. 
 
 The paper, on which he had been making calculations, 
 was lying before him, and when Denzil approached the 
 table, he put it into his hand. 
 
 “ It is a decent sum total,” he observed, placing his 
 linger on the figures at the bottom. 
 
 Montgomery starter), and Mr. Dormer, smiling, added, 
 
 “ I think our good friend, Levison, would start worse 
 than you, Mr. Montgomery, were he to see this. But 
 we must contrive to reduce it within a more moderate 
 compass, before it reaches him. I have been telling 
 Charles, that, as my godson, I intended to leave him a 
 thousand pounds at my death ; and I must therefore con- 
 trive to pay him half down now, and take upon me to pay 
 the other half when I return to England, which will be 
 in about six months. That will take off a thousand, and 
 leave his uncle seventeen hundred to pay, if Emma’s mo- 
 ther refuses, which I do not think she will, upon my re- 
 presentation, to take her share of the burthen.” 
 
 Montgomery looked at Charles. 
 
 ‘‘ I know it is too generous — too good !” observed the 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 503 
 
 latter. I know it is more than I deserve, but if my 
 future good conduct ’’ 
 
 “We will not require any promises, Charles,” observed 
 Mr. Dormer ; “ if your own heart does not prompt you 
 to act so as to repay your friends for the sacrifices they 
 are willing to make, no promises I am sure can hind you. 
 And now there remains nothing but to execute what we 
 
 have decided upon 1 cannot doubt that you will 
 
 anxiously forward the arrangements I propose — but that 
 cannot be done by your remaining here ; and it will there- 
 fore be necessary that you return, as speedily as possible, 
 to London. My letter will prepare your uncle to receive 
 you, and spare you all painful* explanation. Of his con- 
 currence in what I propose, I entertain not the slightest 
 doubt — neither can you, I am sure — knowing him, as you 
 do. I would therefore advise you to lose no time, but 
 return as quickly as possible.” 
 
 “ I will go to-day, sir, if you wish it,” said Charles, but 
 with an air of embarrassment, and in a tone that, to Den- 
 ziPs ear, conveyed little of sincerity, and rendered the 
 latter more than ever anxious that he should delay no time 
 in following Mr. Dormer’s directions. 
 
 “I do not know that there is any necessity for going 
 to-day,” returned Mr. Dormer; “but, as I have said 
 before, I would not have you delay ; and, as you have 
 
 nothing that need detain you here 1 dare not ask you 
 
 to dine with me to-day, for Rosa and her aunt are both so 
 vexed with you, on Emma’s account ; hut I Avill see you 
 this evening, and give you the necessary documents, and 
 to-morrow morning ” 
 
 “ To-morrow morning, sir, I shall obey your direc- 
 tions, and quit France,” replied Charles. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 504 
 
 “Obey your own wishes, I sliould hope,” returned Mr, 
 Dormer, looking earnestly at him. 
 
 “ Certainly, sir,” replied Charles, bowing to conceal 
 his confusion. 
 
 Mr. Dormer departed, and Charles, after taking 
 several turns across the room, observed, without looking 
 at Denzil. 
 
 “ It is devilishly provoking that one should be driven 
 back to London, before one has had time to see any thing 
 of Paris ; and at this season of the year, too, when every 
 soul that one cares about is out of town. I would as 
 soon be sent to Siberia, as be forced to stay in London, 
 when the season is over !” 
 
 “ But your uncle and aunt, and and Fanny, they are 
 
 there,” said Denzil, with difficulty articulating the name 
 which he could never hear or pronounce without emotion. 
 
 “ Pshaw ! who could bear such a hum-drum set as 
 they associate with ?” replied Charles. 
 
 “ They will be somewhat gayer, I should expect, 
 now, than you imagine,” returned Denzil, striving to speak 
 with calmness. “ Fanny is about to marry.” 
 
 “ Marry !” repeated Charles, with astonishment. “ Fanny 
 married, and not to you? It cannot be truth — I will 
 never believe it !” 
 
 “ I have Mr. Dormer’s word for it,” said Denzil, turn- 
 ing to conceal the emotion which Charles’s observation 
 had excited. 
 
 “ Then I can only say there is neither faith nor truth in 
 womankind !” exclaimed Charles. “But who, or what can 
 the man be, who has supplanted you in her affections ?” 
 
 Denzil repeated what he had learned from Mr. Dor- 
 mer, and Charles, with more of warmth and interest 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 505 
 
 than he usually displayed, where he was not personally 
 concerned, observed— 
 
 ‘‘ I do not know, Denzil, what may have happened to 
 change Fanny’s opinion of you — but nothing can per- 
 suade me that the poor girl has, of her own free will, so 
 soon consented to become the wife of another — even 
 though he has rank and title to recommend him. But 
 I -shall soon see her, and I will know the truth !” 
 
 Denzil sighed as he observed that it was now, pro- 
 bably, too late. 
 
 “ Yet I acknowledge,” he added, “ that it would give 
 me great satisfaction to know that, whatever may be the 
 motives which have influenced Fanny and her father to 
 act as they have done, they should not attribute to me 
 any change in those sentiments which I have and ever 
 shall retain towards Fanny. Heaven is my witness I” 
 he continued, with great emotion, “ that by no one act 
 of my life have I deserved to forfeit the regard with 
 which I was beheld by them; and the only act of injustice 
 which I can attribute to my respected friend, your uncle, 
 is his denying me the opportunity of vindicating myself 
 from the false, and, I fear, malicious charges Avhich must 
 have been brought against me. The time may come 
 when all may be cleared up — but, as I have said before, 
 it will be too late.” 
 
 “ You think, then, that some one has aspersed you to 
 my uncle ?” said Charles. 
 
 “ I am sure of it,” returned Denzil. 
 
 Charles remained lost apparently in deep thought for 
 some minutes. 
 
 “ I think I read it all now, Denzil,” he observed, 
 ** but I should like to be certain : — will you,” he con- 
 
 St 
 
606 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 tinued, “ trust my prudence so far as to agree to my 
 keeping the appointment I made with Julia to-night ? — 
 And yet I cannot,” he continued, putting his hand to his 
 bandaged eye, “ though I should have liked to have 
 ascertained whether my suspicions were correct — and I 
 Imow I could have done it, by pretending to fall into the 
 opinion she entertains towards you.” 
 
 Then you think that she has been my secret enemy ?” 
 observed Denzil. 
 
 “ I do, indeed — and as I feel I owe you some recom- 
 pence for my conduct last night, I would willingly have 
 lent my aid to discover whether my suspicions were cor- 
 rect, to the full extent ; but, however, I shall know 
 when I see Fanny. And by the by, Denzil, why cannot 
 you as well go with me at once, and clear yourself? I 
 will not believe, even now, that my uncle would act 
 otherwise than justly and honourably; and, if he were 
 convinced that you have been wronged, I do firmly 
 believe ” 
 
 “ I dare not indulge the hopes you would raise in my 
 bosom,” interrupted Denzil. “ Oh, no — too surely she 
 is now lost to me for ever !” 
 
 ‘‘We shall see — we shall see,” returned Charles; “ of 
 this, however, be assured, Denzil, that my best offices 
 shall be yours. I owe you, as I said before, some recom- 
 pence for the injury my frantic folly committed, and I 
 will not be sparing in my endeavours to set all once more 
 right, if it is possible. But now, tell me, candidly, what is 
 it that prevents you from at once accompanying me to 
 London, and pleading your own cause with my cousin ?” 
 
 “ I cannot leave my mother,” replied Denzil, “ and 
 she is in too weak a state to bear the journey. Heaven 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 607 
 
 knows whether she will ever be able to take it — ^but I 
 dare not leave her.” 
 
 And you really have a mother living — one whom 
 you can acknowledge, and to whom you are attached ?” 
 said Charles. “ It is strange ! nay, forgive me, Denzil, 
 I do not mean to offend you — but I have heard strange 
 tales.” 
 
 “ Will you allow me to repeat to you a stranger tale 
 than any you have yet heard, and of which she is the 
 heroine ?” said Denzil. 
 
 Charles assented, and Denzil proceeded to relate the 
 circumstances which had revealed to him the existence 
 and situation of his mother, from the time of his first 
 meeting with her and Tyrrell in London. 
 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 How could you say my face was fair, 
 
 And yet that face forsake ? 
 
 How could you win my virgin heart, 
 
 Yet leave that heart to break ? 
 
 How could you promise love to me. 
 
 And not that promise keep ? 
 
 Why did you swear my eyes were bright. 
 
 Yet leave those eyes to weep ? — Mallett. 
 
 We must now return to the period which had given not 
 less acute pain and lasting sorrow to Fanny Levison, 
 than to her lover — the period when they had parted, as 
 each supposed, for ever* 
 
 On that memorable evening, Denzil had not long left 
 
508 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 the hotel, when a servant entered to say that an English 
 lady, who declined to give her name, requested to see 
 Miss Levison, on important business. 
 
 Surprised at the message, Fanny hesitated, and her 
 father at that moment entering the room, she requested 
 his advice. 
 
 “ Let your aunt see her, my dear,” was his reply. 
 “ It is most probably some lady’s maid who has been 
 turned off, and don’t know how to get home ; or, per- 
 haps, a worse character, who thinks to relieve you of a 
 little money — there are a thousand such tricks played 
 every day in this capital — therefore you had better let your 
 aunt see her. She will not be so easily imposed on as 
 you.” 
 
 Miss Rachel looked highly delighted at this unusual 
 compliment; and, assuming a look of consequence and 
 sagacity, which brought a smile on Fanny’s lovely coun- 
 tenance, she quitted the room. 
 
 In about five minutes she returned, evidently much 
 discomposed. 
 
 “ I know not what to think,” she observed ; the 
 person whom I have just left in the other room, is a 
 beautiful young lady, who appears to be suffering great 
 distress of mind ; and, from what she has said, it origi- 
 nates with Denzil Montgomery ; but she refuses fully to 
 explain herself, unless it is to Fanny.” 
 
 Fanny turned pale. 
 
 “ To me ?” she exclaimed. “ How can I be con- 
 cerned ? Denzil it cannot be that Denzil ! What 
 
 can she have to say to me, and how can Denzil be con- 
 cerned ?” 
 
 “ I know not what to think, my dear,” observed Mr. 
 
THE GIPSY 3I0THER. 
 
 509 
 
 Levison. Are you sure, sister, that she is a proper 
 person for my daughter to speak to ?” 
 
 I can only judge from appearances, and those you 
 know, brother, are very deceitful sometimes.” 
 
 ‘‘ But what do they lead you to conclude in this in- 
 stance ?” demanded Mr. Levison, impatiently. 
 
 « Then I will tell you at once, brother, that I should, 
 for my own part, think the lady is what she represents 
 herself — a person of respectable character and connexions, 
 
 the daughter of a gentleman 
 
 ‘‘ That is enough !” interrupted Mr. Levison, it 
 would be the height of injustice to refuse to hear what 
 she has to say. But there is one stipulation I must make, 
 Fanny ; and that is, that if she has aught to allege against 
 Montgomery — I do not, I cannot believe that he would 
 act basely — I hope I am not deceived ! — but what I would 
 say is, there must be no concealment on your part — I 
 must be allowed to judge, as well as you, of his conduct. 
 Young girls are, I know, but too apt to come to very 
 
 hasty conclusions, and ” 
 
 “ My dear sir, I will have no concealments from you,” 
 interrupted Fanny, hastily ; but it cannot — it surely 
 cannot be ” 
 
 “ Go, my dear child,” said Mr. Levison. “ Do not 
 agitate yourself in this manner — It is better that you 
 should know the worst, than suffer this suspense.” 
 
 Fanny was indeed dreadfully agitated — the strange 
 conduct of Montgomery, his frequent fits of melancholy, 
 the struggle which she had so frequently seen between 
 his love for her, and some hidden motive which induced 
 him to restrain it. All, in short, that had appeared mys- 
 terious and inexplicable in his conduct, rushed into her 
 
510 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 mind, and, trembling with forebodings of evil, she entered 
 the room where her strange visitor was seated. 
 
 A female, young and handsome, as Miss Rachel had 
 described her, clothed in deep mourning, arose from 
 her seat at her entrance, and, in a low, faltering voice, 
 said 
 
 “ I know not how to thank you, madam, for this con- 
 descension — yet, I entreat you to believe, that it is as 
 much on your account as my own, that I have sought this 
 interview. I, indeed, have little to hope or expect from 
 
 it — but to you it may be ” 
 
 “ Forgive me, madam, but I know not how I can be 
 interested,’’ returned Fanny, trying to conceal her emo- 
 tion; ‘‘but I beg you will at once say what your motives 
 are for wishing to see me.” 
 
 The lady put her handkerchief to her eyes 
 
 “ It is a hard thing, madam,” she replied, “at once to 
 acknowledge myself unworthy of the favour you have 
 shewn me, but, to comply with your request, I will tell 
 you that I came here to warn you of the perfidy, the 
 cruelty of one whom I have reason to think you now re- 
 gard with too much favour. It would be too long a tale 
 to relate the means by Avhich I first became acquainted 
 with Mr. Montgomery, and it would be impossible for 
 me to trace the specious arts by which he won my affec- 
 tions, and the confidence of my poor mother. It will be 
 sufficient to tell you that he has requited that confidence 
 by accomplishing my ruin, and sending my mother broken 
 hearted to the grave ! But this is not all, madam — I have 
 to accuse him, not only of the most cruel indifference to- 
 wards me, but I have, within a few days, discovered that, 
 even while he is addressing you, with the intention of 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 511 
 
 making- you his wife, he is the constant companion of a 
 woman of the most abandoned principles and conduct — 
 one to whom he has not only sacrificed me, but will 
 also 
 
 “ Pardon me,” exclaimed Fanny, who had scarcely 
 been able to listen so far ; “ pardon me, if I say that what 
 you relate is to me so incredible, that I can scarcely 
 believe that you are not deceived. It cannot be Mr. 
 Denzil Montgomery, of whom you speak — not the 
 Denzil Montgomery that ” 
 
 “ Alas, madam, too well I know it is the same person 
 with whom you are acquainted. How often has he spoken 
 of you to me — how often slightingly described one who — 
 but I will not hurt your feelings by repeating what, per- 
 haps, was only said to satisfy my fond and jealous fears; 
 but forgive me, you are pale — fainting, alas ! I fear ” 
 
 Fanny heard no more, nor was she conscious of what 
 passed, until she found herself supported in the arms of 
 her father; while her aunt and her own maid were busily 
 employed with volatiles and all the usual restoratives, and 
 the strange lady was standing by her, with her hand- 
 kerchief at her eyes. 
 
 “ I am ashamed of this weakness,” observed the poor 
 girl, bursting into tears ; “ but it is the last I shall shew 
 — my dear, dear father, I will never, never see his face 
 again !” 
 
 “ Let me understand all this !” exclaimed Mr. Levi- 
 son. ‘‘ Is it Denzil Montgomery of whom you speak ?” 
 
 ‘‘ Yes — he is the basest, vilest ^but I have done with 
 
 him for ever ! It is the last time I will ever mention his 
 name !” 
 
 “ Do not be rash, Fanny — do not judge too hastily — 
 
512 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 young* men will be young men,” said Mr. Levison, 
 “ and, though I would be the last to vindicate Denzil, if 
 he has been deliberately false and treacherous ” 
 
 “ I can prove him both, sir,” said the lady, interrupt- 
 ing him. “ I can prove that, even at this moment, while 
 his conduct is drawing these bitter tears from me, and 
 occasioning scarcely less distress to your amiable daugh- 
 ter, he is passing his hours in the society of one of the 
 most abandoned of her sex. I appeal to his servant 
 Jacques, whether he does not regularly visit, and main- 
 tain in luxury, the woman of whom I speak. Alas ! it 
 was from Jacques I first learned the cause that estranged 
 him from me; and learned, too, that the female, to 
 whom his every hour of leisure is devoted, is not less 
 notorious than she is artful and dangerous.” 
 
 “ Let Jacques be called,” said Mr Levison; “ if this 
 is truth, I ” 
 
 Jacques came, and, with seeming reluctance, confessed 
 that he was in the habit of frequently attending his mas- 
 ter to the lodgings of a woman, Avhom he knew to have 
 been one of the most depraved courtesans of Paris ; nay, 
 more, that he knew Mr. Montgomery was then with 
 her ; and he could, if Mr. Levison pleased, conduct him 
 thither. 
 
 ‘‘No, no, I want no further proof!” exclaimed the 
 old gentleman, with vehemence ; “ Fanny, my dear, 
 retire with your aunt to your room — I will come to you 
 presently — this young lady and I must have some con- 
 versation, and then I will join you.” 
 
 Wretched, and glad to escape again hearing the tale 
 which seemed to have withered up her heart, Fanny 
 obeyed his directions, and Mr. Levison’s questions then 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 rylH 
 
 elicited from the lady a recapitulation of the same tale 
 of Montg’omery’s villany, that had before harrowed up 
 his daughter’s feelings, with the addition that her seducer 
 had left her to suffer all the pangs of penury, as well as 
 those inflicted by her consciousness of disgrace. 
 
 Mr. Levison’s heart was ever accessible to a tale of 
 woe, and the lady retired well satisfied, in more ways 
 than one, with the success of her feigned tale. 
 
 Mr. Levison’s first resolution, when he returned to 
 discuss this subject with his daughter, was at once to 
 reveal to Denzil Montgomery all he had learned, and to 
 overwhelm him with the reproaches which he considered 
 the latter had justly deserved. But Fanny had already 
 began to frame excuses for him whom she so ardently 
 loved ! There was a want of delicacy, she said, in the 
 manners of the lady ; a kind of — she hardly knew what 
 — ^but she could only designate it as aiming at effect — a 
 theatrical sort of air, even in her tears and, indeed, she 
 saw none shed, though the female, who had without a 
 blush proclaimed herself the mistress of the man she was 
 attempting to ruin, had made abundant display of her 
 white handkerchief. In short, Fanny was very evidently 
 inclined to believe that Denzil was not half so bad as he 
 had been represented, and that her father would be by no 
 means justified in acting as he proposed — namely, dis- 
 missing Denzil Montgomery with ignominy from his 
 favour for ever. 
 
 “ I see how it is,” observed Mr. Levison to his sister, 
 when they left the room together, ‘‘ this foolish girl will 
 be persuaded, if she once listens to him, that he is not 
 half so guilty as he appears to be ; and it will finish with 
 his prevailing upon her to forgive him. Now, if I were 
 
 8u 
 
514 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 really convinced he loved her, there might be a chance 
 (even if he were guilty to the full extent of all that is 
 alleged against him) that she might reclaim him. But I 
 do not believe he does !” 
 
 “ Love !” repeated Miss Rachel, “ what love can he 
 
 have for her, when even now, at this minute my 
 
 blood boils to think of it ! how often have I wondered 
 what secret there was on his mind ! but it is all out now, 
 and she must be mad if she ever thinks of, or looks at him 
 again !” 
 
 “ I^m afraid, Rachel, she will do more than that, if we 
 give him an opportunity to plead his own cause,” returned 
 
 Mr. Levison ; “ the rascal is so specious — so ^good 
 
 heavens ! how has he imposed upon me — even me, who 
 am so apt to suspect — who know the world so well. 
 Never, never have I believed Denzil Montgomery capa- 
 ble of a base, a deceitful, or a dishonourable action ; yet, 
 
 if he is guilty even of half that is laid to his charge ” 
 
 “ If, brother — is it possible that you can raise a 
 doubt ?” interrupted Rachel. “ Does not his whole con- 
 duct confirm it ? What else can account for his strange 
 absence, at such an hour, which has so puzzled me? 
 His coolness at times to Fanny, and seeming to dread 
 being left alone with her ? His starts, and fears, and 
 tremblings, which made me often think that he was 
 deranged ? what were they all, but the effects of a guilty 
 conscience, which made him always dread a discovery ? 
 Yes, yes, I see it all plainly now — a base, vile, deceitful, 
 treacherous wretch !” 
 
 ‘‘ Softly, softly, Rachel !” exclaimed Mr. Levison, 
 this violence will do no good, though I could tread the 
 villain under my feet, for his base perjury and falsehood ; 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 515 
 
 but we must go a wiser way to work with him — we must 
 meet art with art, and prevent his taking advantage of 
 Fanny^s weakness and prejudice in his favour.” 
 
 I v/ould not give him the opportunity, brother,” re- 
 turned Rachel. “ I would never suffer him to see her 
 again ; and the best way to prevent it, will be at once to 
 leave this place, and not let him know which way we are 
 gone.” 
 
 It is the first time, sister, that I ever heard you give 
 wise advice !” said Mr. Levison. “ It is exactly what I 
 was going to suggest — but it must be done directly. We 
 must not give Fanny’s resentment time to cool, or him 
 time to circumvent us !” 
 
 ‘‘ Certainly, certainly not,” returned Rachel. 
 
 ‘‘ Well, then, lose no time, but go and acquaint Fanny 
 with my determination, and I will keep out of the way 
 until all is ready,” said Mr. Levison. “ I have promised 
 to do something more for that poor girl that he has ruined, 
 but she has left me no clue to find her out; and, after all, 
 I confess I am, as Fanny says, somewhat doubtful that 
 she is all that she pretended to be. There was a briskness 
 in her manner, and a sparkling in her eyes, when she got 
 hold of the money I gave her, which I could not help 
 thinking was sadly at variance with her pretensions to 
 delicacy and refinement.” 
 
 ‘‘ I’m afraid, indeed,” observed Rachel, “ that she is 
 no better than she should be — but that don’t say anything 
 in his favour — a reprobate ! However, I won’t waste time 
 in talking, but go and acquaint Fanny, and begin at 
 once to pack up. Heaven bless me, I little thought we 
 should 
 
 “There! there! don’t trouble yourself to make a 
 
516 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 volume of reflections,” said Mr. Levison; “but go at 
 once, and talk as we go along the road ; — there will be 
 plenty of time for reflections then.” 
 
 The plan, which was thus projected between the bro- 
 ther and sister, was successfully put in practice ; and the 
 first indication Denzil received of their intentions, was 
 the coolness with which he was received by Mr. Levison, 
 and thc' subsequent preparations which were made for 
 their hasty departure. 
 
 It was with very evident grief and reluctance that 
 Fanny consented to this arrangement ; but it was in vain 
 that she represented to her aunt the injustice of thus con- 
 demning Denzil unheard. The very anxiety she expressed, 
 to see and reproach him for his baseness and treachery, 
 was sufficient with Miss Rachel, who was rendered wary 
 and suspicious, by her fears for her niece^s happiness ; 
 and all the persuasions of the latter could not induce her 
 to interfere with her brother to persuade him to remain 
 another hour. 
 
 They left Paris, and Mr. Levison’s money was liberally 
 bestowed, to secure the secrecy of those who could have 
 given intelligence to Denzil which road they had taken. 
 
 For several weeks they continued travelling from place 
 to place, Mr. Levison hoping that the change of scene, 
 and the bustle of the journey, would divert the mind of 
 Fanny from dwelling on her late disappointment; but 
 Fanny had been too long accustomed to place her whole 
 happiness in the society of Denzil, to forget him so soon; 
 and all her father’s and aunt’s condemnation of him — all 
 that she had herself believed to be true — failed in rousing 
 in her mind that contempt and hatred which they would 
 have wished her to feel and to express. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 517 
 
 Wearied with the bustle, the frivolity, and emptiness 
 of the pleasures which they hurried her into, Fanny at 
 length expressed her earnest wish to return home ; and 
 her father, attentive to her slightest request, so that it did 
 not relate to him whom he was anxious she should alto- 
 gether forget, instantly consented to turn his face towards 
 England. 
 
 “ I should have liked, too, to have visited Lausanne, 
 before I bade adieu for ever to Switzerland,” he observed 
 to his sister. ‘‘I should have liked my Fanny to have seen, 
 with me, the grave of her mother, and have retraced the 
 paths which her infant feet so often trod — but it would, 
 perhaps, only have increased her melancholy.” 
 
 “ Nay, dearest papa,” observed Fanny, who had entered 
 unperceived, and heard his remark, do not let that idea 
 prevent your indulging your wishes. Be assured, that 
 nothing could gratify me more than visiting the spot you 
 mention — but I thought, by the route you seemed to have 
 adopted, that you intended to avoid Lausanne, as reviving, 
 in your own mind, melancholy thoughts and recollections; 
 and therefore I did not venture to suggest that which has 
 nevertheless constantly been present to my thoughts. 
 Oh, no, dear father, far from increasing those feelings 
 which give you uneasiness, believe me, nothing can be 
 more likely to soothe* this unquiet heart to rest, and teach 
 me to bear with fortitude the trifling, comparatively trifling 
 ills which have fallen to my lot.” 
 
 ‘‘To Lausanne, then, we will go, my dear child,” said 
 Mr. Levison, with great emotion ; “ and from thence, it 
 it should remain your wish, we will return to England.” 
 
 The house which Mr. Levison had, on his former visit, 
 resided in, near Lausanne, was now, to his no small dis- 
 
518 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 appointment, occupied by an English nobleman ; and Mr. 
 Levison was thus deprived of the satisfaction he had anti- 
 cipated of inhabiting, if but for a few days, the scene which 
 had been hallowed by the presence of the only woman he 
 had ever loved, and whose image still dwelt as freshly on 
 his memory, as when he had last beheld her there. 
 
 The Earl of Raeburn, the nobleman who was now its tem- 
 porary inhabitant, was, they were told, in delicate health, 
 and of very secluded habits, associating with none of his 
 countrymen, of whom there were a number resident in 
 the town and its vicinity. A bribe to the gardener, how- 
 ever, procured Mr. Levison free access to the grounds, 
 which remained nearly in the same state as when they had 
 left them. 
 
 Here, at an hour when they were taught to consider 
 themselves safe from being interrupted by the presence of 
 the master of the mansion, Fanny and her father wan- 
 dered through the well-known paths, recalling the spor- 
 tive hours of childhood, which seemed all at once to rush 
 on the remembrance of the former ; and not unfrequently 
 shedding a tear, as they spoke of those who then gave 
 promise of qualities, which their subsequent conduct had 
 not realised. 
 
 “ Yes,” observed Mr. Levison, little did I then think, 
 as I used to sit under that tree, and watch the boys at their 
 sports, and fancy I traced in their actions the germs of all 
 those qualities with which I wished them to be endowed — 
 how little did I then think, I say, that both would deceive 
 me? And yet, I acknowledge that I have sometimes feared 
 that Charles would prove what he is — sellish, headstrong, 
 and extravagant ; but Denzil — oh, never, never! He was 
 the noblest, the most sensitive, the finest-spirited boy ! 
 
London. LJll-; X: L Mo; L,,mptou S i ; 
 
 ///r- /// 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 519 
 
 Good heavens, how has the world altered him, or was it 
 possible that even then I was deceived? Oh, no, it 
 could not be — but I will not think of what he was — I 
 will remember only what he is, and hate, despise, detest 
 him, as I ought.’^ 
 
 To all this, Fanny could offer no reply; her sense of 
 justice told her that all her father could say of Denzil 
 was not too harsh — yet her heart refused to join in his 
 condemnation. She could remember him only as her 
 father had described him to have been in his childhood, 
 and as he had ever appeared to her — the noblest, most 
 exalted of human beings ; and, though she felt it impos- 
 sible not to believe that he had given some cause for the 
 assertions which had ruined him in her father’s estima- 
 tion, she still could not help secretly believing that his 
 errors had been greatly exaggerated, and that the time 
 would yet come, when he would be able to prove that he 
 had been far less guilty than he had been represented. 
 On one point only, Fanny despaired — that he loved 
 her, as she once believed he did, she no longer dared to 
 hope ! 
 
 “ Oh, no,” she mentally exclaimed, ‘‘ had he loved 
 me, as I have loved him, he could never have afforded 
 room for the exaggerated representations which have been 
 made of his conduct. To me, therefore, he is lost for 
 ever ! But, for his own sake, I hope the hour will 
 arrive when he will be able successfully to vindicate him- 
 self from the black charges that have been brought 
 against him !” 
 
 It was on the second visit that they made to their 
 former haunts, that they unexpectedly encountered a 
 gentleman, whose superior and commanding air, and the 
 
520 
 
 THE GIP.SY MOTHER. 
 
 look of surprise, though of courtesy, with which he 
 reg'arded them, at once revealed him to be the present 
 owner of the scenes which they had at that moment for- 
 gotten they were now trespassing upon. 
 
 Unwilling, apparently, to disturb their enjoyment, he 
 passed on, after returning Mr. Levison’s salutation, and 
 looking rather earnestly at Fanny, whose blushing coun- 
 tenance betrayed her confusion at thus appearing an 
 intruder — when Mr. Levison, suddenly recollecting 
 himself, observed, 
 
 “ I am almost sure — and yet I do not know — it is 
 so many years since we met — yet I think I cannot be 
 mistaken. Stop, Fanny, ivhile I follow and speak to 
 him.” 
 
 Without waiting her reply, he quickened his pace 
 after the stranger, and in another minute Fanny beheld 
 their mutual and hearty congratulations, and felt all her 
 confusion at the impropriety of their situation vanish, as 
 she heard the stranger express his satisfaction at having 
 so opportunely met one whom he had long wished to see. 
 
 “ And little did I think,” observed Mr. Levison, 
 “ when I stole into these grounds, to gratify my daugh- 
 ter, by treading with her the paths ‘ o’er which her 
 infant feet had strayed,’ as the poet has it, that the 
 person whom I wished to avoid was of all others him I 
 should have been desirous to see ; and that the title of 
 Earl Raeburn concealed a friend whom I have long 
 known, and for whom I have always entertained the 
 highest esteem.” 
 
 And this young lady is your daughter?” said Earl 
 Raeburn. “ Happy Levison ! You have a wife and 
 daughter — a son, too, perhaps—” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 521 
 
 “ Nay, nay, you are overrating- my comforts,” inter- 
 rupted Mr. Levison; “this is all my family — in her, all my 
 future hopes and honours are centered. That spire, which 
 you see towering above those trees, marks the spot where 
 
 but we will not now speak of subjects which can only 
 
 make us melancholy. You are, I suppose by your obser- 
 vation, still unmarried ?” 
 
 A deep shade of gloom passed over the fine expressive 
 countenance of Earl Raeburn, as he replied in the affir- 
 mative ; and a long silence succeeded, during which Mr. 
 Levison and his lordship appeared lost in deep thought. 
 
 “ You will come in and breakfast with me ?” observed 
 the latter. “ Miss Levison will excuse all deficiencies in a 
 bachelor’s household, who never entertains company.” 
 
 “ I fear, then, my lord, we shall be troublesome guests ; 
 yet I acknowledge I have so strong a wish to enter once 
 more our former habitation, that I should be tempted, with 
 papa’s leave ” 
 
 “ Oh, I shall not refuse the Invitation, my dear, you 
 may depend upon it,” interrupted Mr. Levison ; “ and so 
 you may go on, if you please, and order more cups and 
 saucers, and whatever you like to fill them — Fanny and 
 I will follow you.” 
 
 “ I do not know anything that could have given me 
 more pleasure than meeting with my old friend,” ob- 
 served Mr. Levison. “ Time has dealt leniently with 
 
 him, for he still looks a young man, while I but, to 
 
 be sure, he is many years younger than I am. Oh, yes, 
 he cannot now be more than forty-five — for he was but a 
 lad to me, when last I saw him.” 
 
 “ He looks, too, as if he had experienced care and suf- 
 fering,” observed Fanny, who felt greatly interested by 
 
 3 X 
 
522 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 the mild and intelligent countenance of her father’s 
 friend. 
 
 ‘‘ Yes, I have heard that he met with some peculiar 
 misfortunes in the early part of his life, after I lost sight 
 of him,” returned Mr. Levison; ‘‘ but my own cares and 
 troubles have banished from my mind the more particular 
 recollection of what they were, and I have only a general 
 impression that I felt very sorry for him. It appears, 
 however, that, in the main point, he has been lucky; 
 for I know the title he bears was accompanied by a very 
 large estate.” 
 
 They entered the house, and Earl Raeburn welcomed 
 them with every mark of satisfaction. 
 
 “You have made some alterations here, I perceive,” 
 said Mr. Levison ; “ yes, there it was her harpsichord 
 used to stand, and you have made a window there — it 
 may be an improvement to you — but it is not to me,” he 
 added, with a sigh. 
 
 “ Do not blame me, Charles, for what I have nothing 
 to do with,” replied the Earl; “the house is exactly as I 
 found it — but you speak as if I had been the tenant here, 
 ever since you left it; whereas I have only been here a 
 few months, and should have before this time quitted it, 
 but that illness has somewhat tamed the restless spirit 
 which has, for the last three or four years, made me an 
 unsettled wanderer, seeking peace and finding none !” 
 
 A tear started in Fanny’s dove-like eyes, at the tone 
 of melancholy in which this was uttered. There was a 
 something, too, in the voice and look, which recalled to 
 her memory those whom it was the business of her life 
 now to forget. Yet, though she tried to think that this 
 resemblance was far from being a recommendation to her, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 523 
 
 and that she should have liked Earl Raeburn better, had 
 he been less like Denzil, she in reality found, in that very 
 circumstance, the greatest source of attraction ; and while 
 she secretly gazed on, and listened to the Earl, thought 
 only of him whom he so strongly resembled. 
 
 The hour of breakfast passed swiftly and delightfully. 
 The melancholy impressions which Mr. Levison at first 
 felt, on reviewing the scene of his former happiness, 
 gradually yielded to the more cheerful feelings inspired 
 by the reminiscences of the gay hours which Earl Rae- 
 burn and himself had passed together; and the former 
 seemed to live over again the time when, as he boastingly 
 observed, he was the merriest even of those whose only 
 business was mirth. 
 
 But have you nothing to tell me, my lord, of what 
 has happened to yourself, since last I beheld you? Of 
 your public life, I know enough — for your name has not 
 been buried in obscurity. It has graced many a column 
 in the newspapers — ^but, though I have known the life of 
 the hero, I have heard nothing of the adventures of the 
 friend. Tell me, how comes it that I find you still a for- 
 lorn bachelor? — you, who were used to preach me such 
 goodly sermons, and hold me such lectures on love — you, 
 who were always, even in the midst of all our revelry, 
 maintaining the superiority of a married life, and quoting 
 from Thomson that well-known passage — 
 
 ‘ Oh, happy they, the happiest of their kind, 
 
 ‘ Whom gentler stars unite, &c. &c.’ 
 
 Have you forgotten it all now, eh, Fred ?’’ 
 
 “ No,” returned the Earl, smiling, while he suppressed 
 a sigh. ‘‘Nor have I ever found reason to alter my sen- 
 
r)2i 
 
 THE HfPSY MOTHER. 
 
 timents, though circumstances have intervened to prevent 
 my realising the picture winch has so often drawn the 
 raillery of my gay companions on me.” 
 
 There was a tenderness and solemnity in the tone in 
 which the Earl uttered this reply, that convinced Fanny 
 of what she had before suspected ; namely, that his lord- 
 ship had suffered some severe disappointment; and the 
 thought gave additional interest to him in her eyes, who 
 was herself lamenting the wreck of all her hopes. 
 
 The eyes of the Earl seemed to read her thoughts, and 
 as if ashamed of the weakness he was conscious he had 
 betrayed, he added, in a gayer tone — 
 
 ‘‘But I wonder, Levison, you should feel any surprise 
 at my remaining a bachelor. Do you not know that, ‘ till 
 now some nine moons wasted,’ my life has been passed 
 in ‘ the tented field and therefore ‘ little of this great 
 world’ do I know, ‘ more than pertains to feats of broil 
 and battle ?’ I have had no opportunities of whispering 
 tales of love in ladies’ ears — and now, I fear, it is too 
 late !” . 
 
 “ Pshaw ! a soldier and afraid ?” said Mr. Levison, 
 gaily. “No, no — if such are still your sentiments, Fred, 
 I shall yet see you a married man — the happy father of a 
 finnily. You are yet but in the prime of life — you must 
 have a heir to your title, and — what the deuce is the mat- 
 ter with him?” he added, as the Earl, without answering, 
 suddenly darted through the door which opened into the 
 garden, and disappeared behind the thickest cluster of 
 shrubs with which it was shaded. 
 
 “Your friend, papa, has, I suspect, recently met with 
 some disappointment of the heart — you must be careful not 
 again to start the subject which has so discomposed him.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 585 
 
 Mr. Levison looked surprised Poor Fred,” he 
 
 observed, I did not suspect he was still so sensitive. I 
 know that, when a young- man, he was the most romantic 
 fellow that ever existed — a complete knight-errant in 
 the service and defence of the ladies, and entertaining the 
 most chimerical ideas respecting them; but I should have 
 thought the world would have taught him better. 
 However, I shall be careful for the future how I touch 
 on this tender subject, though I shall not rest till I have 
 learned what this mighty secret is.” 
 
 The Earl returned, alleging, as an excuse for his 
 abrupt departure, a nervous complaint, the consequence 
 of excessive toil, and a residence for many years in a hot 
 climate; and, in a few minutes, Mr. Levison having first 
 engaged his lordship to dine en famille, bade him adieu. 
 
 From this period Earl Raeburn and the family of Mr. 
 Levison became inseparable. Regarding his lordship 
 only as the friend of her father, Fanny soon learned to 
 dismiss all constraint and reserve in his presence. He 
 was the constant companion of her walks; the gout, Mr. 
 Levison’s old enemy, having, a few days after their first 
 meeting with his lordship, seized on the former with 
 more than its usual virulence, and rendered him, most 
 reluctantly, a prisoner to his room. Under the directions 
 of the Earl, those studies which Fanny had disregarded 
 and thrown aside, were again resumed. He pointed out 
 to her the most picturesque scenes for her pencil, and 
 not unfrequently improved her sketches of Nature by the 
 masterly touches of his own hand. His rich deep bass 
 voice accompanied hers, and his taste and science selected 
 her music. Fie read to her, talked with her — and, in 
 short, was never absent from her side. 
 
526 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ‘‘ I wish he were but ten years younger,’’ Mr. Levi- 
 son would observe to his sister, as he gazed upon them. 
 
 “ Dear me, I am sure he looks but a young man yet, 
 brother — there are many thousands much more unequal 
 matches than theirs would be ; and if we could only get 
 Denzil Montgomery out of her head, — I am sure his 
 lordship doats upon her ! And you see how well and 
 hearty he is getting — there is no talk now of his nervous 
 complaints — he is all gaiety and good spirits !” 
 
 No great proof of his being in love that, Rachel,” 
 observed Mr. Levison, smiling, “ especially, when he 
 must be very doubtful of success — for he can hardly 
 expect that a girl with such recommendations as our 
 Fanny possesses, would easily be won to listen to his 
 suit.” 
 
 Rachel, however, could not be brought to think pre- 
 cisely as her brother did, on this subject. In her estima- 
 tion, the Earl was a match so desirable, that she could 
 not believe her niece would, if her heart were free from 
 all prepossession in favour of another, hesitate a moment 
 to accept of him, were he to make her an offer ; and 
 most heartily did she wish that the name of Denzil 
 Montgomery was erased from Fanny’s memory. 
 
 Conscious, however, that should Fanny, in her present 
 state of mind, suspect that such an idea was indulged by 
 her friends, it would have the immediate effect of check- 
 ing that confidence and free intercourse which was 
 likely, in Rachel’s mind, to lead to the desired result, the 
 cautious spinster avoided, even by a hint, leading her 
 niece to suppose that such an event had ever entered her 
 imagination as that it was possible for Earl Raeburn to 
 be in love with her, while, at the same time, she was 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 527 
 
 herself incessantly on the watch to detect, in his words 
 and actions, some proofs of that passion. 
 
 One circumstance seemed highly favourable to the 
 hopes and views which she indulged — Fanny no longer 
 expressed any impatience to return to England ; on the 
 contrary, she appeared perfectly satisfied with their pre- 
 sent residence ; and, it was very evident, seemed to con- 
 sider it advisable that they should prolong their stay until 
 the period which the Earl had, from their first meeting, 
 fixed for his return. In fact, Fanny had begun, she 
 thought, to feel that the society of the Earl was neces- 
 sary to her happiness, and with that feeling Rachel antici- 
 pated that all that she wished would be sure to foUow. 
 
 Nearly three months, however, passed without Rachel’s 
 seeming any nearer to the completion of her wishes ; and 
 she began almost to fear that she had been too sanguine, 
 and that the Earl, instead of being, as she hoped and 
 believed, an impassioned lover, was only what he 
 appeared to wish to be thought — a friend, whose years 
 protected him from any suspicion of indulging a warmer 
 passion, when an event occurred, which aroused, or 
 rather confirmed all her hopes of seeing her niece in 
 possession of the fortune and title which it was in 
 the power of the Earl of Raeburn to bestow. 
 
 To gratify Fanny’s passion for the beautiful and sublime 
 scenes afforded by the lake, on the borders of which 
 their residence was situated, the Earl had engaged a boat 
 to be constantly in attendance, and for hours they glided 
 together over the smooth waters, sometimes enjoying 
 only the luxury of their own thoughts, but oftener 
 engaged in animated conversation. Frequently had the 
 day closed over them, and the bright clear moon risen to 
 
528 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 point their homeward way, while Fanny had lost all 
 remembrance of time, in listening to the glowing and 
 pictorial descriptions which her companion would give 
 her of the scene, the manners, and the habits of life which 
 he had witnessed, during his long sojourn in eastern 
 climes. Of his own eventful life, too, he had so much to 
 tell her — like Othello, he could speak 
 
 “ Of most disastrous chances, 
 
 Of moving accidents, by flood and field ; 
 
 Of hair-breadth scapes i’ th’ imminent deadly breach ; 
 
 Of being taken by the insolent foe — ” 
 
 Of all, in short, that make up the animated and moving 
 panorama of a soldier^s life. 
 
 It was on one of these occasions that they were 
 warned by their boatmen that it was necessary that they 
 should make their way to land as speedily as possible, 
 there being certain indications of a gathering storm. 
 
 To neither her or the Earl did there seem to be 
 any apparent necessity for shortening their pleasurable 
 excursion, but they yielded nevertheless to the prudent 
 suggestion of their attendants, and were already within 
 sight of the dark grove which embosomed their residence, 
 when one of those sudden gusts, which are so peculiar to 
 the navigation of lakes, at once descended upon them 
 with resistless fury — in an instant their little bark was 
 upset, and they were all precipitated into the water. 
 
 For some moments Earl Raeburn buffeted with the 
 now foaming and swelling waves, and succeeded in get- 
 ting hold of a spar, which enabled him to keep above 
 water, when he discovered the lifeless form of Fanny, 
 stiff buoyed up by her clothes, but at a considerable 
 distance. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 529 
 
 “ Make for the shore, my lord, or you are lost !’’ 
 exclaimed one of the boatmen, who had just succeeded 
 in laying hold of the same spar which supported his lord- 
 ship. 
 
 ‘‘ The lady !” exclaimed the Earl, in a tone of frantic 
 agony — ‘‘ I must save her, or perish !” 
 
 “ Then you will perish — for it will be impossible for 
 you to reach the land with her !” exclaimed the man, re- 
 doubling his own efforts to swim towards the land. 
 
 Earl Raeburn, however, saw only Fanny — thought 
 only of Fanny — and in another minute he caught hold of 
 her dress, at the very critical minute in which she was 
 sinking. 
 
 It was in vain, however, that he attempted, thus en- 
 cumbered, to make any way towards the wished-for land, 
 yet still he would not quit his grasp. Another awful mi- 
 nute passed — he felt his strength fast failing — but he still 
 released not his hold, though now utterly hopeless of 
 relief. He cast his eyes over the now again smooth 
 waters — but all was still and silent. His former com- 
 panions, the boatmen, had disappeared; he knew not 
 whether they had perished, or whether they had been 
 enabled to reach the land, which, though not far distant, 
 seemed to recede from his dim sight, as he strained his 
 anxious eyes towards it. Another moment and aU was 
 over — he uttered a fervent prayer, and the waters passed 
 over his head. 
 
 Of all that passed after the first fearful shock, Fanny 
 had but a faint recollection, when, nearly an hour 
 afterwards, she once more awoke to life, and beheld her 
 aunt and several other females occupied about her, with 
 the most anxious solicitude. 
 
 3y 
 
5.30 
 
 THE aiPSY MOTHER 
 
 “ My father ! where am I ? Earl Raeburn, is he safe ? 
 How was I brought here V” she demanded. 
 
 ‘‘ You shall see your father in a short time, my child, 
 my dear child !” replied Rachel — “ make yourself easy, 
 dear Fanny, you are in your own — in Earl Raeburn’s 
 chamber, I should say — and he is safe, as well as you ! 
 you are both saved — miraculously saved ! Oh, my child, 
 next to Heaven, we have to thank his lordship for your 
 preservation ! To the last moment he supported you 
 from sinking, and, even when at last he lost all conscious- 
 ness, he never quitted you, and you were taken into the 
 boat which went to your assistance, firmly clasped in his 
 arms. Oh, may every blessing that can be showered on 
 man, be his portion !” 
 
 Fanny’s heart re-echoed the grateful prayer — but she 
 was too faint and weak to speak ; and when her father, 
 (whom one of the female Servian ts had summoned to the 
 chamber to witness his daughter’s perfect restoration,) 
 knelt by her bedside, and breathed his fervent blessings 
 on her head and that of her preserver, her silent tears 
 alone evinced the feelings which swelled her bosom. 
 
 It was many days before Fanny and the Earl met, for 
 both severely felt the effects of the accident which had so 
 nearly been fatal to them ; but when they at length re- 
 covered sufficiently to resume their usual habits, Rachel 
 beheld with delight symptoms which she considered suffi- 
 ciently decisive that her most sanguine hopes would 
 eventually be realised. Earl Raeburn’s manners were no 
 longer those of the sober, cool, and unimpassioned friend. 
 He gazed upon .Fanny, as upon one whom he had acquired 
 a right to call his own, and for whose future welfare and 
 happiness he was become accountable. Not a word, not 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 531 
 
 a wish could she utter, which it was not his instant care 
 to realise. Her absence, even for a few minutes, seemed 
 to deprive him of every enjoyment, and he watched over 
 her with a solicitude as tender as that with which a 
 mother would watch over the child whom death has 
 threatened to tear from her fond embrace. 
 
 The painful and for some time dangerous illness of 
 Mr. Levison, which resulted from the shock he had 
 received, drew still closer the tie which bound Earl 
 Raeburn to the beautiful and amiable being, with whom 
 he shared the cares and anxieties of soothing and amus- 
 ing the sick bed of the peevish and impatient invalid ; but 
 it was not until Mr. Levison was fast recovering, that the 
 explanation, which the latter now desired almost as 
 ardently as his more sanguine sister, took place as to Earl 
 Raeburn’s views towards Fanny. 
 
 “ I am conscious, my dear friend,” observed his lord- 
 ship, after acknowledging to Mr. Levison that his happi- 
 ness depended on Fanny’s accepting his proposals of mar- 
 riage, “ I am fully conscious that it appears like vanity 
 and presumption in me, to hope that she can feel towards 
 me any sentiments but the cold ones of esteem and friend- 
 ship ; yet I do think my warm and devoted alFection, my 
 constant attention to her happiness, and the unbounded 
 control which she will possess over me and my fortunes, 
 will secure her happiness, perhaps more effectually than 
 if she were united to one who possesses all the advantages 
 of which I am deficient ; and, if I have your consent to 
 address her ” 
 
 ‘‘You shall have not only my consent, but my warmest 
 wishes and influence,” interrupted Mr. Levison; “ and, 
 though I cannot ensure you success, I flatter myself my 
 wishes will go some way towards it.” 
 
532 
 
 TilE GIPSY MOTHEIl. 
 
 A few hours after this conversation, Mr. Levison, in 
 pursuance of his promise to Earl Raeburn, seized an op- 
 portunity of communicating to his daughter the proposal 
 of his lordshipc 
 
 Fanny listened to her, father with emotions of surprise 
 and embarrassment which evinced the sincerity of her 
 declaration, that such a thought as that the Earl viewed 
 her with any warmer feeling than esteem, had never 
 entered her mind. 
 
 I am sorry, very sorry,” she continued, while an in- 
 genuous blush suffused her cheek, “ that I am undeceived 
 — for I have been so happy, so confiding in his kindness 
 
 and friendship — I have felt so at ease in his society ” 
 
 And why should you now feel otherwise, Fanny?” 
 demanded her father, rather impatiently, ‘‘surely, the con- 
 sciousness of being beloved by one who has passed the 
 heyday and folly of youth, need not shake your confidence 
 in him, or banish the feelings of esteem and friendship.” 
 
 “ But my dear father cannot expect,” said Fanny, 
 casting down her eyes in confusion, “ that I can seriously 
 encourage any ” 
 
 “ I will tell you at once, Fanny,” interrupted Mr. 
 Levison, “ that I do expect you will act like a sensible, 
 rational girl ; and not, from romantic and ridiculous no- 
 tions, throw away the certainty of Iiapplness, when it is 
 in your power to secure it. You will recollect, Fanny, 
 that I once sacrificed to your washes all my own feelings 
 and prejudices — if they were prejudices. I consented to 
 your forming a connexion with one who, whether by birth 
 or fortune ” 
 
 “ Do not — oh, pray do not speak on that mortifying 
 subject, dear sir,” exclaimed Fanny. “ I have been suf- 
 ficiently punished for my folly !” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEU. 
 
 5S3 
 
 “ 1 do not wish to mortify you, my child,” returned 
 Mr. Levison; ‘^all I would say is, that my having yielded 
 to you, on so important a point, contrary to my own con- 
 viction, gives me a right to expect that you will not rashly 
 oppose my wishes now, and sacrifice to a shadow the hap- 
 piness of my remaining years and your own life. I do 
 not wish yom now to answer me, Fanny, nor does Earl 
 Raeburn expect you instantly to accept his offer — hut I do 
 hope that you will not madly and blindly reject him. 
 Fanny, you must he aware that every day that passes is 
 hurrying me with rapid footsteps to the grave — I am now 
 probably patched up for a little while, but the next at- 
 tack ” 
 
 Oh, do not say so, my dear, dear father !” exclaimed 
 Fanny, throwing her arms around his neck, and bursting 
 into a torrent of tears. 
 
 I must say it, my child, because I feel it is too cer- 
 tain ; and because I would have you seriously reflect, that 
 it is in your power to render my last hours happy, by 
 giving me the satisfaction of leaving you under the pro- 
 tection of one whose honour, probity, and excellent heart 
 assure your happiness. My dear F anny, you know not — 
 you never will know, I hope, the dangers to which a girl 
 of fortune is exposed, who is left to her own guidance, or 
 at least deprived of the care of her natural guardians. 
 The aim of every designing spendthrift, the mark of ever}^ 
 accomplished sharper — it is a thousand chances to one hut 
 she becomes the prey of some wretch, to whom her for- 
 tune is her only recommendation, and who, if he does not 
 dissipate it, and reduce her to poverty, leaves her to all 
 the miseries and dangers of neglect — leaves her, perhaps, 
 to a worse fate, if she has personal beauty, to become the 
 
534 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 victim of some one still more unprincipled than himself. 
 It is in your power, Fanny, to remove this picture from my 
 eyes, and soothe my dying* moments by the certainty that 
 such will never be your fate.’^ 
 
 Fanny remained drowned in teai's — it was impossible 
 for her to controvert her father’s arguments, yet her 
 heart recoiled from the proposal which he so anxiously 
 enforced. Towards Earl Raeburn she felt all the gentle 
 and affectionate attachment which she would have expe- 
 rienced for an amiable relative, whose kindness and un- 
 wearied attention, and whose exalted qualities, demanded 
 her utmost esteem and gratitude ; but Denzil Mont- 
 gomery, with all his faults, with all his cruelty, was still 
 the lord of her affections, and she shuddered at the 
 thought of plighting her faith to another, while his image 
 still was secretly enshrined in her heart. 
 
 The joy and exultation with which Miss Rachel re- 
 ceived from her brother the intelligence that her sanguine 
 hopes were at last realised, and that the Earl had formally 
 proposed himself as the future husband of her niece, re- 
 ceived a severe check from the state of mind in which she 
 found the latter, to whom she had hastened to pour forth 
 her congratulations. The manner, indeed, in which 
 Fanny replied to her aunt’s transports, effectually put a 
 stop to all the latter’s visions of an immediate splendid 
 bridal — with the liveries and white favours, the satin 
 dresses and pearls, the visitings and bride-cake, and all 
 the et ceteras of a wedding, which had been all jumbled 
 together in her imagination, the moment her brother had 
 announced the probability of Fanny’s becoming the wife 
 of Earl Raeburn, — all these visionary delights suddenly 
 faded av/ay, as she beheld, in the tears and lamenting of 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 535 
 
 her niece, obstacles which she feared would place the 
 event which she so ardently longed to see, at an immea- 
 surable distance — if it did not altogether prevent it. 
 
 It was, however, some consolation to her to find, from 
 the conversation which ensued between her and Fanny, 
 that the latter felt too much impressed with the argu- 
 ments her father had adduced, and too fearful of giving 
 him pain, to resolve on a decided rejection of Earl Rae- 
 burn ; and Rachel was therefore obliged to content her- 
 self with the hope that time, and the assiduities of his lord- 
 ship, would reconcile her niece to that which she now 
 considered with such aversion. 
 
 “ And once married,” observed the good old lady, I 
 shall have no fears for her happiness ! Nay, I am sure that 
 I shall hear her, in three months after, acknowledge her 
 surprise that she should have been so blind to her own 
 interest, as to wish to reject such a man as the Earl of 
 Raeburn.” 
 
 The confusion and embarrassment which Fanny ex- 
 perienced at meeting the Earl, after his explanation to 
 her father, was, if possible, surpassed by that of his lord- 
 ship. Conscious, as he observed, of his presumption in 
 hoping that she would overlook the disparity of their ages, 
 and receive as a lover him who had hitherto considered 
 himself honoured in being allowed to call himself her 
 friend, he seemed at a loss how to address her — and 
 Fanny was spared the pain of either dissembling her cool- 
 ness, or finally destroying his hopes, by the delicacy with 
 which he refrained from pressing her for a decisive reply 
 to his suit, at the present moment. 
 
 With Mr. Levison, however, the case was very dif- 
 ferent — with him, a bugbear existed in the person of 
 
536 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Denzil Montgomery, which perpetually haunted his ima- 
 gination, as threatening to destroy the flattering prospects 
 which were now otFered to his daughter ; and he could 
 not consider Fanny^s happiness secure, until she was 
 actually married. He felt, therefore, considerable dissa- 
 tisfaction at finding that week after week passed away, 
 without the EarFs having pressed for a decided acceptance 
 of his proposal. 
 
 ‘‘ You seem to consider your patience as a merit, my 
 lord,” he at last abruptly observed, ‘‘ but, I assure you, 
 I am far from considering it as such — I should be much 
 better satisfied, since I cannot doubt that you still hold 
 your intentions, that there should appear a little more 
 probability of the affair being brought to a conclusion, 
 than there seems at present.” 
 
 “ Good heavens, sir, you cannot surely doubt my being 
 most anxious,” returned the Earl, ‘Ho accelerate an event 
 which will render me supremely happy? But, really, 
 Fanny so — contrives, I will not say — but so it happens, 
 that if I attempt to lead to the subject ” 
 
 “ Pshaw, pshaw, Fred, — you an old soldier, and suffer 
 a skittish girl to circumvent you?” replied Mr. Levison. 
 
 “ Make up your mind, man, decidedly, that the marriage 
 shall take place at an appointed time — propose it to 
 her, and if she refuses, leave it to me to bring her to 
 reason.” 
 
 “ Not for the world would I have the slightest con- 
 straint put upon her inclinations !” replied the Earl, has- 
 tily ; “ yet I do hope that she will consent to confirm my 
 happiness, immediately on our arrival in England ; and, 
 as we have already exceeded the time we intended to 
 remain here—” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 557 
 
 ‘‘ I see — I see !*’ interrupted Mr. Levison ; “ well, 
 make your mind easy, I shall tell the women to-night, 
 that I mean to go home at once, and then I shall leave 
 you to settle the rest of the affair on the road.” 
 
 “ What has Papa got in his head now, I wonder !” 
 said Fanny, when her aunt announced to her that they 
 were in a few days to commence their journey to Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Miss Rachel looked down, and smiled significantly, as 
 she replied — 
 
 “ I am not at liberty, my dear, to say what are the 
 motives of your fathers resolution, but you will, I dare 
 say, soon learn them — if not from him, from Earl Rae- 
 burn.” 
 
 Fanny’s cheeks assumed a blush of the deepest crimson, 
 and almost instantaneously became deadly pale, as she 
 beheld Earl Raeburn enter from the garden, with an 
 expression on his countenance that betrayed that he had 
 something of importance to communicate. 
 
 She looked round for her aunt, but the old lady had 
 slipped out by the opposite door, and she was compelled 
 to abide the result. 
 
 After a conversation which lasted nearly three hours, 
 the Earl quitted Fanny, and entered Mr. Levison’s apart- 
 ment, where Miss Rachel was anxiously discussing with 
 the latter some points of ceremony, vdiicli he objected to. 
 
 At sight of his lordship their conversation was sus- 
 pended, and Mr. Levison, with an expression of great 
 anxiety, observed — 
 
 “ You look agitated, my lord — surely, Fanny has not 
 dared ” 
 
 “ I have Miss Levisou’s consent, sir, to announce to 
 
 S z 
 
538 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 you that she will bestow her hand upon me, at the expi- 
 ration of one month from our arrival in London,” replied 
 the Earl. 
 
 Miss Rachel burst into tears of joy, and Mr. Levison, 
 after a silence of a few moments, observed with emo- 
 tion — 
 
 Then my cares, in this life, will, I trust, soon be 
 ended ! But, tell me, my friend, why did you look so 
 pensive and thoughtful, when you first entered the 
 room?” 
 
 I will tell you, then, candidly,” replied the Earl, 
 “ that your angelic Fanny, though she did not refuse my 
 earnest suit from the first, yet would not consent to it 
 until she had first confided to me the particulars of a prior 
 engagement — the failure of which, she confessed to have 
 been a heart-breaking disappointment to her. I am a 
 bold man, Levison,” continued his lordship, forcing a 
 smile, “ to venture upon a young wife, who confesses her 
 heart has been, from her childhood, devoted to another 
 — but as she appears fully convinced of his unworthiness, 
 and ” 
 
 “ Convinced !” repeated Mr. Levison, impatiently, ‘‘ if 
 I thought she doubted it — if I suspected that she dare 
 bestow one thought upon the rascal, except to condemn 
 and despise him, I would renounce her for my child ! I 
 would never see or speak to her again ! But I know she 
 hates him ! I know she sees his conduct in its proper 
 light ! No, no, my lord, you need have no fears on that 
 head.” 
 
 ‘‘ Fears !” repeated his lordship, no, be assured, my 
 friend, had I had a fear or a doubt, Fanny’s candour 
 and confidence would have bauislicd it! No. T have i:o 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 539 
 
 fears, no doubts, but of my own worthiness of such a 
 prize.” 
 
 “ Fine, loverlike misgivings !” said Mr. Levison, laughs 
 iug; “ but the lordly husband will soon tell a different 
 tale, I am apt to think. However, I heartily congratulate 
 you and myself on this termination of our anxieties. Go, 
 Rachel, go to Fanny, and tell her how happy she has 
 made us all.” 
 
 Poor Fanny’s countenance, however, betrayed but 
 little sympathy with the pleasure her aunt expressed. 
 When she joined her, Fanny had indeed, though scarcely 
 daring to acknowledge it to herself, calculated on a dif- 
 ferent result, from the communication she had made to 
 Earl Raeburn. She had, indeed, hoped that his delicacy 
 w'ould have induced him to decline accepting her hand, 
 when he was convinced that she had no heart to bestow, 
 and she had trusted that he would find means to satisfy 
 her father, without exposing her to his reproaches and 
 resentment. 
 
 The Earl had, however, totally disappointed her expec- 
 tations. He had, indeed, appeared at first startled at the 
 communication which, with tears and blushes, she had 
 made — he had entered with deep interest into her feel- 
 ings, and expressed with fervour his indignation at the 
 conduct of Denzil, over whose supposed crimes, however, 
 Fanny’s delicacy had cast a veil. She spoke of his deser- 
 tion as arising from an attachment to another — but she 
 did not reveal to his lordship that which she had been 
 taught to believe, that he not only had seduced, but 
 cruelly deserted that other. Yet, although she suffered 
 him to see, to its full extent, how wholly her heart had 
 been devoted to him whose unworthiness she lamented 
 
540 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 rather than condemned — though she acknowledged that 
 her disappointment still preyed on her mind, and rendered 
 her averse to think of a second attachment — Earl Rae- 
 burn did not offer to resign his hopes of calling her his. 
 
 “ I, too, dearest Fanny,” he observed, “ have for years 
 mourned over the bitter extinction of my youthful hopes 
 — I have, like you, been the victim of misplaced confi- 
 dence — and have thought my heart dead to all feeling of 
 love or confidence ; but I have learned, since I first 
 beheld you, that I was wrong, and you, too, will — I know, 
 I feel you will — in my affection, in my devotion to your 
 happiness, find a compensation for the wrongs that the 
 treachery of one, who never deserved your invaluable 
 heart, has inflicted.” 
 
 Fanny replied only by her tears ; but the Earl did not 
 or would not see that these were given less to past sor- 
 rows than to present regrets, and she was at length com- 
 pelled to yield her reluctant assent to his entreaties that 
 she would fix the time of their marriage. 
 
 In a few days they commenced their journey to Eng- 
 land, Fanny having in vain endeavoured to persuade her 
 father to protract his residence on the Continent, for a 
 few weeks longer; but Mr. Levison had just heard, by a 
 person who had recently arrived from Paris, that Denzil 
 was still there, and that he had made the most indefatiga- 
 ble efforts to discover the road that had been taken by 
 him, and his family ; and, had there been no other mo- 
 tive, that would have been sufficient to have urged his 
 departure. 
 
 Though apparently calm, collected, and at times even 
 cheerful, Fanny suffered severely at this final termination 
 of all the hopes which she had so long indulged. She 
 
r 
 
 r 
 
IS A li A AAA A 'U A'A 
 
 
thp: gipsy mother. 
 
 .541 
 
 beheld with indifference the splendid preparations which 
 were making for a ceremony, which brought to her 
 imagination nothing but images of misery and despair ; 
 and she turned away with a sigh from her aunf s elaborate 
 dissertations on the advantages of the union she was 
 about to form, and the amiable character of her future 
 partner. 
 
 “ I wish to heaven, aunt,’’ she one day exclaimed, 
 v/hen the latter had been more than usually diffuse in her 
 eulogies of the Earl, “ I wish to heaven he would marry 
 you ! I am sure it would be a much more suitable 
 match — for you are very little older than him, whereas 
 he is old enough to be my father.” 
 
 Well, I am really astonished how you can talk so, 
 Fanny,” replied Miss Rachel, such a fine, handsome 
 man as Earl Raeburn.” 
 
 I can never look at him,” replied Fanny, without 
 
 thinking of one whom oh dear, I do not know what 
 
 I am talking about — but yet I do wish the Earl was less 
 like one whom I must forget, and yet cannot — since every 
 look ” 
 
 “ He is certainly very like Denzll, in face and person,” 
 said Rachel, sighing. Thank heaven, the resemblance 
 does not reach the mind !” 
 
 “ He is like him, too, in manners and sentiments,” 
 rejoined Fanny; “ his very voice is the same, deepened 
 by time — and I could often shut my eyes, and listen to 
 him for an hour, when he is talking with my father, and 
 believe that it is Denzll speaking'.” 
 
 ‘‘ You must forget all that, Fanny,” observed Miss 
 Rachel, gravely, ‘‘ it will be very wrong to suffer the 
 remembrance of — — ” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 rA2 
 
 “ I know it will be wrong, aunt — I feel it is wrong,” 
 interrupted Fanny, with vehemence, “ but how can I 
 prevent it ? How can I forget one, who, from the very 
 cradle, has shared with me every thought? How can I 
 banish him from my memory, when every look and 
 tone ” 
 
 “ Hush, hush, my dear child !” exclaimed Rachel, in 
 alarm. “ Here is your father ! Do not, for heaven’s 
 sake, let him see you in this way — for he already looks as 
 if something had greatly vexed him.” 
 
 Mr. Levison was not long before he revealed to them 
 the cause of his vexation. 
 
 He had just learned that Charles, whom he had be- 
 lieved to be in Cumberland, with his wife and her mother, 
 had in reality despatched the former thither, and was now 
 actually in Paris. 
 
 ‘‘ Yes,” added Mr. Levison, when he had communicated 
 this intelligence, he is winding up his career of folly and 
 vice in the society of Denzil Montgomery and his com- 
 panions ! But I have done with them, altogether ! I 
 know not why I should torment and vex myself about 
 what I cannot mend or remedy, and so I’ll think no more 
 about any of them. Thank heaven, I have still my chief 
 consolation left ! I shall have the satisfaction of knowing 
 that I have secured the happiness of my child. But what 
 is the matter ? You, too, look as if you had been vexed. 
 Cannot your aunt and you agree about the wedding dress, 
 
 or what is the matter, foolish girl ? — why are those 
 
 tears? You are not silly enough, I hope, to be fretting 
 about Charles.” 
 
 Fanny was glad to seize the plea which her father had 
 afforded her, to excuse her emotion; and Mr. Levison, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 543 
 
 who wanted but an opportunity for doing that which his 
 own heart suggested, left the room satisfied. 
 
 The name of Denzil, however, had raised a train of 
 recollections and regrets in the bosom of Fanny, which 
 rendered still more revolting to her the union to which 
 filial affection and duty had induced her to consent. It 
 would have been impossible to have exceeded the libe- 
 rality and delicacy of Earl Raeburn, in the arrangements 
 which were made respecting the fortmie which Mr. Levi- 
 son bestowed on his daughter; nor could even Fanny, 
 indifferent as she now felt to splendour and display, avoid 
 acknowledging the elegance of taste, and the magnificence 
 of spirit he displayed, in the numerous valuable presents 
 which he made her, and the domestic arrangements which 
 he entered into for her comfort and accommodation. 
 
 The house which was taken for her town residence, was 
 fitted up with oriental splendour. A separate carriage 
 and servants ordered for her use, and a treaty entered 
 into for an estate in Cumberland, merely because she had, 
 on learning that the Earl’s patrimonial inheritance and 
 mansion, which his lordship proposed they should retire 
 to on their marriage, was situated in Sussex, observed in 
 a tone of regret that she wished it had been nearer her 
 father’s residence ; at the same time demanding of his 
 lordship if he intended to make his regular residence there 
 (in Sussex), when not in town. 
 
 ‘‘ I will reside nowhere but where my dear Fanny 
 feels herself happy and contented,” returned his lordship. 
 ‘‘ I can have no particular predilection in favour of Down 
 Lodge, which I have never visited since I was a boy; and 
 from which I was expelled in disgrace, because I would 
 not silently hear my dear mother sneered at by those 
 
544 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 who were utterly incapable of estimating her merits. 
 Little did they then think that the presumptuous boy, 
 whom they treated with so much contumely, was des- 
 tined to become the possessor of that wealth and title 
 of which they were then so proud ; but, peace be with 
 them, I meant not now to speak of their misdeeds, but to 
 convince my dear Fanny that I shall make no great sacri- 
 fice in relinquishing Down Lodge as a residence. The 
 interest of my tenants there will not be injured either, 
 since the present occupier, who is an old friend of mine, 
 will be glad, I know, to continue to hold it, and to act as 
 a check upon the steward, wlio has for many years had 
 the management of the estate, without a single cause of 
 complaint against him having arisen.” 
 
 Fanny expressed her fear that it might be disadvan- 
 tageous to his lordship, in a pecuniary point of view, to 
 forego his intention of residing there; but the Earl 
 instantly silenced her by replying — 
 
 ‘‘ Were it the sacrifice of half my fortune, of which I 
 have never felt the full value until since I have known 
 you, I should estimate it as nothing, could it conduce 
 to your happiness; but I do not think that it will be 
 so, or at least, I believe that the sacrifice will be so 
 trifling, as not to be weighed for an instant against your 
 wishes.” 
 
 What is the matter, my dear child ?” demanded Miss 
 Rachel, who had listened, with pleasure sparkling in her 
 eyes, to the foregoing conversation ; and wlio beheh], 
 with the utmost surprise, tears streaming down the cheeks 
 of her niece, a few moments after the Earl had quitted 
 the room. “ What cause can you possibly have for 
 melancholy ? Is there a wish that you express, that is 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 545 
 
 not instantly gratitied ? Nay, you can hardly form the 
 
 wish, so quick is he in anticipating ” » 
 
 “ That is exactly what I would complain of!” interrupted 
 Fanny, in a tone of complaint and regret. “ Would he 
 but give me some reasonable cause to dislike him, I should 
 not be so utterly miserable — but my heart seems crushed 
 beneath the weight of obligations which I can never re- 
 pay; for I can never, never give him that affection which 
 he seeks by this means to purchase. Oh no, every day, 
 every hour convinces me more strongly of the fatal truth 
 — that I have no heart to bestow ! And I tremble at the 
 thought of pledging my faith to one, whom I cannot love 
 as I should, and feel as miserable as if I were gradually 
 advancing towards a precipice from which I knew there 
 could be no retreat. Yet I know it is too late to think 
 thus — I know it is impossible that anything can save me !” 
 
 Do not — oh do not talk so, my dear girl !” exclaimed 
 Miss Rachel, bursting into tears. “ Oh, Fanny, if I 
 really thought this marriage would make you miserable, 
 how wretched should I be ! And how should I blame 
 myself for having prompted it ! But I do hope you will 
 think differently. What can you find in Earl Raeburn 
 that you can reasonably object to ? Does he not possess 
 every qualification that a woman can desire, to render 
 the marriage-state happy ? Oh, no, you will — you must 
 be happy with him !” 
 
 “ I shall be happy in my grave !” returned Fanny, in a 
 desponding tone. 
 
 Rachel’s tears redoubled, but she had already exhausted 
 all her stock of rhetoric and persuasion, and she was 
 compelled to resort to her usual argument, with which 
 she never failed to console herself, though she dared not 
 
 4a 
 
546 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 impart it to her niece, namely, that, when once Fanny 
 was absolutely married, she would see the affair in a dif- 
 ferent light, to what she did while there was a chance of 
 escaping it ; and would soon become reconciled to what 
 would then be irrevocable. 
 
 
 " CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 For care and trouble set your thought. 
 
 E'en when your end ’s attained ; 
 
 And a’ your views may come to nought, 
 
 When ev’ry nerve is strained. Burns. 
 
 Convinced, by the seemingly perfect acquiescence of his 
 friend Charles Levison in the plan laid down for the lat- 
 ter by Mr. Dormer, that he had no longer any cause for 
 fear and uneasiness on his account, Denzil, who knew 
 that his mother would feel surprised and anxious at the 
 omission of his usual visit, entreated Charles to excuse 
 his leaving him for an hour or two, avowing that he was 
 going to see his mother. 
 
 “ How I should like to see her !” observed Charles ; 
 “ but I cannot shew myself, with this face. Well, it serves 
 me right ! — but do not let me detain you, Denzil — I shall 
 find something to amuse me, till you return.” 
 
 Denzil gladly accepted the permission, and repaired to 
 his mother, whom he found, as he expected, much alarmed 
 at his unusual absence. It was with the most acute pain 
 that he beheld the effect which even this comparatively 
 trifling excitation of mind had had upon her ; for it con- 
 
THE Gll^SY MOTHER. 
 
 5n 
 
 vinced him that the hopes he had indulged of her eventual 
 recovery, were too sanguine ; and, as he gazed upon her 
 pallid cheek and sunken eye, the painful conviction be- 
 came impressed upon his mind, that all his filial cares and 
 anxieties would soon be terminated in th§ gr^ve of her 
 to whom they were devoted. 
 
 Far, however, from being herself conscious of the un- 
 favourable symptoms which her son’s anxiety detected, 
 Elinor appeared to consider her entire recovery as cer- 
 tain, at no very distant period ; and spoke of their journey 
 to England as being definitively decided, expressing at the 
 same time her regret that she had not yet gained strength 
 enough to undertake it. 
 
 Denzil sighed almost unconsciously as he looked at her 
 faded form, and compared her even with what she appeared 
 when he first beheld her ; when, even in the disguise of 
 the lowest poverty, he had been struck with the extraor- 
 dinary beauty and symmetry of her person. 
 
 Strange, indeed, he thought it was that she, who in the 
 midst of wretchedness and want, harassed by the most 
 tormenting fears, and subjected to the most degrading 
 humiliations, had preserved her health unimpaired, and 
 her body as well as mental activity apparently uninjured, 
 should now, while in the enjoyment of ease and compara- 
 tive luxury, with no fear or anxiety either for the present 
 or the future, at once sink into such a state of personal 
 imbecility, and evince so little energy of mind ! But he 
 did not reflect that the exciting cause, the grand stimulus 
 to exertion on her part — that feeling, which had rendered 
 her dead to all others, and which had made her indif- 
 ferent to fatigue, to hunger, to cold, to all the miseries 
 that attend the steps of poverty and crime-r^that great 
 
548 
 
 THE Hli'SY MOTHER. 
 
 and all-absorbing feeling’ vras noAv for ever silenced. The 
 man who had so long swayed her destiny, and to whom 
 her mistaken feelings of filial duty and affection had so 
 completely subjected her reason, was no more; and with 
 him had perished all those stormy feelings, which, while 
 they had seemed to give energy to her mind, and strength 
 to her body, had been secretly corroding, and undermin- 
 ing both. 
 
 The change, too, from active habits of life to entire 
 inactivity, and the seclusion from all society, after having 
 been for years accustomed to live altogether, as it were, 
 in public, likewise operated most unfavourably upon her 
 spirits, and consequently on her health ; while the reflec- 
 tions that were forced upon her in the hours of solitude, 
 rendered nugatory those consolations which the presence 
 and conversation of her son afforded. 
 
 Denzil, already dejected from the effects of Mr. Dor- 
 mer’s communication respecting the marriage of Fanny 
 Levison, as well as from the still more recent disturbance 
 between him and Charles, felt most keenly the alteration 
 which he observed in his mother, while she in return dis- 
 covering, in his silence and melancholy, that something 
 more than usual had affected him, pressed him so hard on 
 the subject, that he was obliged to acknowledge to her, 
 in part, the cause, suppressing only his fears on her 
 account. 
 
 The dim and sunken eyes of the invalid sparkled with 
 renewed life, as he related what he had learned respect- 
 ing Fanny’s intended marriage. 
 
 Still fully impressed with the conviction that Fanny 
 was her own daughter, Elinor could see nothing in this 
 intelligence but cause for rejoicing. The faint vestiges 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER*. 
 
 549 
 
 of the pride and ambition, which had formerly been such 
 distinguishing traits in her character, were all rekindled 
 anew at the thought of her daughter becoming the wife 
 of a peer. All her weakness and low spirits seemed in a 
 moment to be forgotten — Denzil’s dejection was no lon- 
 ger an object of interest — and she continued to express 
 her pleasure and surprise, until at length the patience of 
 the latter became completely exhausted, and he rushed 
 out of the house abruptly bidding her adieu, and promis- 
 ing to return on the morrow. 
 
 Totally unfit for conversation, Montgomery, instead of 
 returning immediately home, wandered for nearly two 
 hours, at one moment reflecting on the pertinacious ad- 
 herence of his mother to the idea that Fanny was in 
 reality her daughter ; and the next, bitterly deploring the 
 ill fate which detained him in Paris, though without being 
 able to form any reasonable idea that his presence in Lon- 
 don could effect any thing in his favour. 
 
 It was considerably past the hour at which he had 
 ordered dinner, when he entered the hall of the hotel, 
 where he found Ned anxiously awaiting his appearance. 
 
 “ Mr. Levison has, I suppose, been impatient for my 
 coming, Ned ?” he observed. “ Is he in the dining- 
 room ?’^ 
 
 “ No, sir,” returned Ned, ‘‘ nor has he found out, I 
 believe, that you were so much behind your time — for he 
 has had company almost ever since you went away !” 
 
 Company !” repeated Denzil, with surprise. 
 
 “Yes, sir. Miss Delaney that was — I don’t know what 
 she calls herself now — for she did not send up her name. 
 She knew Mr. Levison was alone, she said — for she had 
 
550 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 passed you on your way to your ‘ usual haunt f those were 
 her words, sir, as she flew up stairs to him.” 
 
 “ Impertinence !” muttered Denzil, as he passed on to 
 the room in which he had three or four hours before left 
 Charles, and where he found him still seated, with the 
 lady whom Ned had named. 
 
 Coldly and distantly replying to her familiar greeting, 
 Denzil hastily apologised for his long absence to Charles, 
 whose looks betrayed considerable confusion. 
 
 “ Is it so late, then ?” observed Charles, looking at his 
 watch. ‘‘ I declare, I never noticed how the time went.” 
 
 “ That is really a very pretty compliment, Mr. Levi- 
 son,” said Mrs. Wilmington, smiling tenderly upon him; 
 
 and the more valuable, because I don’t believe it was 
 studied.” 
 
 “ That I am sure it was not,” said Charles, briskly ; 
 ‘‘ but what has kept you so long, Denzil ? — Nothing un- 
 pleasant, I hope, though you look gloomy.” 
 
 “ Mr. Levison has surprised me beyond expression, 
 Mr. Montgomery,” observed Mrs. Wilmington ; ‘‘ he has 
 been telling me that the lady, to whom you have been so 
 constant in your attentions, and who once was an object 
 of so much interest to me, is actually your mother.” 
 
 Denzil blushed as he replied in the affirmative. 
 
 ‘‘ I hope,” she continued, ‘‘ you forgive me for what 
 I did, under a mistaken impression respecting her. 
 Heaven knows, I am sincerely sorry if it has done you 
 any harm !” 
 
 ‘‘ It will perhaps teach you to be more cautious in fu- 
 ture,” replied Denzil coolly, “ to know that you have 
 destroyed my every chance of happiness in this life.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 551 
 
 ‘‘ Heavens, I hope not !^’ returned the lady, affecting 
 great concern ; “ but tell me, dear Denzil, is there no way 
 by which I can undo the mischief? I am sure I would 
 not mind a journey to England, or any where else, to 
 serve one to whom I am under such obligations.’’ 
 
 ‘‘The disposition unfortunately comes too late,” returned 
 Denzil, turning to the window, with an evident desire to 
 put an end to the conversation. 
 
 A few whispered sentences passed between the lady and 
 Charles, and the former, rising, observed — — 
 
 “ I am detaining you from your dinner, Mr. Mont- 
 gomery, and will therefore wish you good-day. To-mor- 
 row, my dear Mr. Levison, I shall call and trouble you 
 with the commission I spoke of. Au revoir /” and she 
 left the room, accompanied by Charles, with whom she 
 remained for some minutes in conversation at the top of 
 the stairs. 
 
 The dinner was concluded, and they were left alone, 
 before anything passed between Denzil and his com- 
 panion beyond the ordinary courtesies of the table ; but 
 the latter then observed 
 
 “You looked vexed, Denzil, at seeing Julia with me, 
 when you came home.” 
 
 “ I dare say I did,” replied Denzil, “ for I was vexed — 
 more than vexed — seriously grieved.” 
 
 “But, my dear fellow,” said Charles, assuming a gay 
 tone, “ you surely are not so outrageously strict as to be 
 offended at ” 
 
 “ I make no pretensions to what I do not feel, Charles,” 
 replied Denzil; “I certainly do not feel pleased, nay 
 more, I am greatly hurt to see you so pertinaciously 
 keeping up a connexion, which though it may be harmless 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 r)52 
 
 in reality, will not fail to prejudice you in the eyes of 
 your real friends.” 
 
 ‘‘Well, well, it will be all over after to-morrow,” re- 
 turned Charles, in a petulant tone ; “ and it was not to 
 be supposed that I could treat a pretty woman with con- 
 tempt, whose kindness towards me induced her to lay 
 aside the strict attention to decorum which you seem to 
 think so necessary.” 
 
 “ Kindness !” repeated Denzil, sarcastically. 
 
 “Yes, kindness, Denzil,” replied Charles. “She had 
 heard from St. George an exaggerated account of the 
 injury I had received, and she came to ascertain whether 
 it was the truth.” 
 
 “ And pray, may I ask of what nature is the commission 
 she intends honouring you with ?” inquired Denzil. 
 
 “ I really do not know,” returned Charles; “ something 
 of no great consequence, I dare say, though — but why do 
 you ask?” 
 
 “ Only that I so dread her talents for manoeuvre, that 
 I am fearful of your involving yourself ” 
 
 “ Pshaw !” interrupted Charles, “ do you suppose, 
 Denzil, that I have lived so long in the world for noth- 
 ing ? — or do you think that you, with your reserved and 
 correct habits, have gained more experience than I have, 
 who have lived among all sorts of folks, and have paid for 
 my experience.” 
 
 Denzil did not reply to this, though he felt he might 
 very reasonably have expressed a doubt that, even dear 
 as he had paid for it, Charles’s experience would be of 
 much service to him, when opposed to the artifices of a 
 beautiful woman, towards whom, it was very evident, he 
 felt much more favourably inclined than she deserved. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 553 
 
 Denzil was, however, rejoiced to find that his com- 
 panion appeared determined rigidly to adhere to the plan 
 marked out for him by Mr. Dormer, towards whom he 
 expressed the most ardent gratitude ; and, nothing hav- 
 ing arisen to impede his design, on the following day 
 Charles departed for London, having first seen and taken 
 his leave of Mr. Dormer. 
 
 It was a source of considerable satisfaction to Denzil, 
 that Mrs. Wilmington did not keep her appointment with 
 Charles; and the former, as he returned to his own 
 apartment, after witnessing his friend^s departure, con- 
 gratulated himself on the circumstance that Charles 
 seemed totally to have forgotten her, and the commission 
 with which she had talked of charging him. 
 
 To his no small surprise and chagrin, however, he 
 learned from Ned that Mr. Levison had received a letter 
 from her, before he had left his chamber, and had replied 
 to it, while the messenger waited. 
 
 The certainty, however, that the sea would in a few 
 hours divide them, and that, in all probability, Charles 
 would, in change of scene and occupation, soon forget 
 the Aviles Avhich would have entangled him, had he re- 
 mained near the artful and unprincipled woman, Avhom, 
 every time he beheld her, Denzil regarded with increased 
 contempt, soon banished all remains of uneasiness on that 
 head from his mind ; and having paid his usual visit to his 
 mother, and to his great satisfaction found her still in 
 good spirits, and apparently improving, Denzil repaired 
 to Mr. Dormer’s, to whose dinner-table he had been 
 pressingly invited. 
 
 He was received with the warmest kindness by Mrs. 
 Dormer, and with smiles of unrestrained satisfaction by 
 
 4 B 
 
554 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 the lovely Rosa Somerville, to whom, it was evident, 
 Mr. Dormer had been giving a most favourable account 
 of Denzil’s conduct, as respected Charles. 
 
 The evening was passed very pleasantly, and it was 
 agreed that on the following morning Montgomery should 
 accompany Mi% Dormer and his niece, on horseback, to 
 visit an English family, with whom the latter were ac- 
 quainted, who had fixed their residence, for some months, 
 about seven miles from Paris. 
 
 At the appointed time, therefore, Denzil repaired to 
 the residence of Mr. Dormer ; but, on his way there, he 
 encountered Mr. St, George on foot. 
 
 “ I was just coming to you, Montgomery,” he ob- 
 served, to inquire whether you have seen or know any- 
 thing of that jilt, Julia ? Is Levison at home ? for I very 
 much suspect he has had some hand in her disappearance.” 
 
 “ Mr. Levison is on his road to England, if he has not 
 actually landed there by this time,” replied Denzil, chang- 
 ing colour, as a suspicion of the truth flashed across his 
 mind. 
 
 St. George stood for a moment in silent astonishment. 
 
 “ Then, by heavens, 1 am right !” he observed. “ She 
 is off with him !” he exclaimed, and I ” 
 
 “ It cannot be,” interrupted Denzil, impatiently, “ he 
 never, surely, could act so imprudently — so madly — so 
 devoid of all decency — at the very moment that his friends 
 are taking every pains, and using every exertion, to re- 
 concile him to his uncle — to reunite him to his young and 
 beautiful wife ” 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, his friends may spare themselves that last trou- 
 ble,” replied St. George, in a tone of sarcasm ; ‘‘ for, I 
 very much doubt, if he will not find his young and beau- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 555 
 
 tiful wife has provided for herself; and, before he reaches 
 England, it will be well if she has not quitted it with one 
 who places a little more value on her youth and beauty 
 than he seems to do.” 
 
 ‘‘ Heavens !” exclaimed Denzil, what do you mean?” 
 
 “ I mean that I shall be fully revenged on Mr. Levi- 
 son,” returned St. George, ‘‘ for I know that Captain 
 Templeton, his ci-devant friend and companion, sailed 
 by the packet yesterday morning, fully determined to 
 proceed to Cumberland, and full of hope that he should 
 persuade the beautiful Mrs. Levison to exchange her se- 
 clusion with a cross mamma, for the pleasures of a tour in 
 Rome, whither he intended to proceed alone, had not 
 some circumstances induced him to believe that it would 
 cost him no great trouble to get a compagnon du voyage^ 
 very much to his taste ; for which purpose, as I before 
 said, he quitted Paris yesterday morning.” 
 
 Denzil waited not to hear any more, but, setting spurs 
 to his horse, was in a few minutes at the door of Mr. 
 Dormer’s residence. 
 
 “ What is the matter now, my dear fellow?” de- 
 manded Mr. Dormer, as he met him on the landing-place. 
 
 Denzil motioned to him that he had something to com- 
 rmmicate, which must not be heard by Mrs. Dormer or 
 Miss Somerville ; and his friend then led the way into 
 another room, where he was soon made acquainted with 
 the vile attempt which there was no doubt would be made 
 to ruin the young and thoughtless Emma. 
 
 ‘‘ There is only one way that I can hope to save her !” 
 exclaimed Mr. Dormer, after a few moments’ agitated 
 reflection. “ I will instantly depart for England, and 
 without hesitation proceed to Cumberland, where I will 
 
IHE GU’SY MOTHER, 
 
 ooG 
 
 dt 0110(3 expose to her the character of the man who could 
 thus brutally make her name and reputation the sport of 
 his profligate companions here. It will be no difficult 
 matter, I think, to convince her of his utter worthless- 
 ness ; and, in placing her once more under the care of her 
 liusband, from whom I shall take proper precautions that 
 the whole affair shall be kept secret, I shall, I trust, 
 secure her from all future designs. Emma,” he continued, 
 “ though thoughtless, is not so destitute of sense or deli- 
 cacy as to be incapable of seeing and fully estimating the 
 conduct of the worthless wretch, who, I trust, founds his 
 hope of succeeding in his infernal plan, on her love for 
 pleasure, and habits of dissipation, together with her hus- 
 band’s absence and her own unpleasant situation, rather 
 than on any reason he has to believe that he possesses anv 
 peculiar interest. At least, of that I shall judge from her 
 own conduct,” continued Mr. Dormer, “ but I must not 
 lose time. I will instantly go, and give orders for my 
 journey, and will then inform Mrs. Dormer and Rosa 
 that I must leave them for a week or two under your 
 care. I am sure I can very safely do that, without saying 
 one word to you on the subject.” 
 
 They shall command my most devoted services, my 
 dear sir,” said Denzil, as Mr. Dormer quitted the room, 
 observing that it would be better that the circumstances 
 which occasioned his abrupt departure should be com- 
 municated by him to the females while they were alone. 
 
 In the communication which Denzil had made to Mr. 
 Dormer, he had entirely avoided mentioning the sus- 
 picion, or rather the certainty, which St. George had 
 expressed, that Mrs. Wilmington had accompanied Charles 
 Levison to England. It had, indeed, in the still more 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 o57 
 
 important consideration of the danger that impended over 
 the thoughtless wife of the latter, been for a moment 
 banished from his recollection ; but now, when left alone 
 to redect, it again recurred to his mind, though he could 
 not, even now, resolve whether it would be prudent, at the 
 present moment, to make Mr. Dormer acquainted with 
 it. He was, however, soon put out of all difficulty on the 
 subject ; for, in about a quarter of an hour, Mr. Dormer 
 re-entered the room, with an open letter in his hand. 
 
 “ There is another pretty affair come to light !’* he ex- 
 claimed, throwing himself into a chair. ‘Tf it was not that 
 my regard for that unfortunate girl is greater than even 
 my resentment against her rascal of a husband, I would 
 forswear meddling with their affairs again 
 
 The letter, which he put into DenziPs hand, was not 
 signed ; but the latter, as well as Mr. Dormer, readily 
 guessed that it was written by the young man whom the 
 latter had recognised as his ci-devant servant. 
 
 It stated that the writer had reason to believe that Mrs. 
 Wilmington had accompanied Mr. Levison to England ; 
 and that, from her well-known extravagance and rapacity, 
 there could not be a doubt but that she would bring ruin 
 upon him, if some means were not taken to detach him 
 from her. 
 
 “ Had you any suspicion of this, Denzil T* demanded 
 Mr. Dormer, looking earnestly at him. 
 
 Denzil replied by at once candidly stating all that had 
 passed between St. George and himself, acknowledging, 
 at the same time, that he had not known how to decide, 
 as to the propriety of mentioning what he was by no means 
 assured was true. 
 
 ‘‘ There can be little doubt, I think, now,” returned 
 
558 
 
 I’HI' Gil’S Y MOTHEll. 
 
 Mr. Dormer, in a desponding tone, “ though I do not 
 see that it need make any alteration in my plans; except 
 that instead of, as I hoped, placing Emma under his pro- 
 tection, I must persuade her, if I can, to come over here 
 with me. I think that, with her aunt and Rosa, she 
 would learn to forget her bad habits, and become a rational 
 being; but come, my dear boy, Mrs. Dormer and Rosa 
 are very anxious to see you, and I must trust to you en- 
 tirely to console them, and persuade them not to indulge 
 unreasonable anxiety respecting my forced journey.” 
 
 Denzil accompanied him to the usual sitting-room, and, 
 to his sorrow, found them both in tears. 
 
 Mrs. Dormer could not be persuaded that some mischief 
 would not befal her husband ; while Rosa, less fearful on 
 her uncle’s account, was wretched in reflecting on the cause 
 of his journey, and anticipated with terror that it was 
 probable that he would arrive too late to rescue her cou- 
 sin from the ruin that threatened her. 
 
 In less than an hour, Mr. Dormer had quitted Paris, 
 having once more recommended his wife and niece to 
 Montgomery’s especial care. 
 
 Mrs. Dormer, indeed, required all his rhetoric to re- 
 concile her to this event, which had quite overwhelmed 
 her weak spirits. She prognosticated a thousand evils as 
 likely to happen — and it was not until a letter arrived, to 
 assure her of her husband’s safe arrival at Dover, that she 
 could be brought to acknowledge the folly of that pre- 
 sentiment which she had indulged, that some fatal acci- 
 dent would happen to him. 
 
 From London, Mr. Dormer wrote again — he had had 
 a short interview with Mr. Levison, and had learned, to 
 their mutual discomfiture, that nothing had been seen or 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 559 
 
 heard of Charles, who ought to have been in London two 
 days before; but, to make amends for this unpleasant in- 
 telligence, Mr. Dormer observed that he had ascertained 
 that Captain Templeton was in town. 
 
 “ He has, therefore, as yet,” he continued, had no 
 opportunity, if he has ever had any intention, of trying 
 the success of his abominable plan ; and as, whatever views 
 he may have, I shall now be beforehand with him, you 
 may anticipate my returning in triumph with the fair 
 damsel, for whom I have turned knight-errant. You will 
 know what good spirits and good health I am in, by this 
 gay style of writing.” 
 
 Again he wrote to armonnce that he was with Emma 
 and her mother — that he had succeeded, to the utmost 
 extent of his hopes, in opening the eyes of the former to 
 the precipice on which she stood, and had received her 
 glad assent to his plan of bringing her over, to join his 
 family party on the Continent. 
 
 ‘‘ I shall first, however,” he concluded, “ endeavour to 
 see Mr. Charles Levison, and shall be guided by what I as- 
 certain respecting him, as to how Emma is to be disposed 
 of. If it is really true that he has brought that infamous 
 woman over, (which there is too much reason to fear,) no 
 consideration on earth shall induce me to leave her with 
 him ; but we shall see — at all events, I shall be with you 
 in a week or ten days ; therefore, do not expect to hear 
 from me again ; for I shall not write, unless something 
 unforeseen should happen.” 
 
 The prospect of soon seeing Mr. Dormer again, and 
 the success which had hitherto attended his exertions, re- 
 vived Mrs. Dormer’s sinking spirits ; and Rosa Somer- 
 ville, anticipating increased pleasure in the society of her 
 
560 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 cousin, who had been the friend and play-fellow of her 
 childhood, and whose estrangement she had long lamented, 
 exhibited all her usual vivacity. 
 
 The constant presence of Denzil, who divided his 
 whole time between them and his mother, whose health 
 still continued in the same fluctuating and undecided state 
 
 his constant attentions, and the assimilation of their 
 
 tastes and pursuits, had created the most cordial familia- 
 rity between Rosa and himself. Denzil felt towards her, 
 as he would for an amiable and beloved sister, and Mrs. 
 Dormer treated him with all the confidence and kindness 
 of a mother; while Rosa looked up to his judgment and 
 opinion as decisive on every subject. 
 
 How often did Denzil, as he returned from them, and 
 proceeded to visit his mother, wish that it was possible 
 to introduce her to them, in order that he might secure 
 their sympathy and kindness for her ; but neither Rosa 
 or her aunt dreamed of the existence of such a person, 
 much less that she was residing within a few hundred 
 yards of them. 
 
 A circumstance, however, occurred, which rendered it 
 Imperative on Denzil to give that explanation which he 
 had wished, and yet knew not how to give. 
 
 Mrs. Dormer, who had for some time appeared to be 
 improving in health, was suddenly attacked with so 
 alarming an illness, that it became necessary to call in a 
 physician ; and at the recommendation of some one about 
 her, the same gentleman was sent for, who had long been 
 in attendance on Mrs. Montgomery which was the name 
 the unfortunate Elinor had, at the suggestion of her son, 
 adopted. 
 
 In the first moment of alarm, Rosa had sent a hasty 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. ' .5t>l 
 
 summons to Denzil, and lie entered the drawing’-room 
 just as the doctor was about to leave, after a conversation 
 with Rosa on her aunt^s situation, which he acknowledged 
 v/as very doubtful. 
 
 The latter immediately conceived that to Denzil’s re- 
 commendation he owed his present introduction, and not 
 supposing that he could have any ivish of concealment 
 respecting his mother, he immediately observed that he 
 was just then going to visit Mrs. Montgomery, adding, 
 that he was highly gratified at the great improveuient 
 which had taken place in the health of the latter, within 
 the last few days. 
 
 “Ah, Mademoiselle,” he continued, turning to Miss 
 Somerville, “there are few mothers so blessed in a son as 
 is Madame Montgomery ! Such exemplary attention, such 
 tender affection, such anxiety ! Ah, won dien^ what a 
 beautiful thing is filial love !” 
 
 Rosa’s expressive countenance betrayed her astonish' 
 ment — but the voluble vitdecin did not observe it. Tie 
 saw, indeed, that Denzil was embarrassed and confused ; 
 but, attributing it to the modest feeling which shranlc from 
 his panegyric, he only varied his theme by speaking of 
 Mrs. Montgomery, her patience, gentleness, and other 
 amiable qualities, and concluded by expatiating on the 
 surprising and strong personal resemblance between Ma- 
 dame and her son. 
 
 Aware that some powerful motive must have induced 
 Denzil’s silence on the subject, Rosa would from delicacy 
 have avoided all recurrence to it, when the Doctor had 
 left them ; but Denzil felt the necessity of giving some ex- 
 planation of a circumstance so apparently unaccountable, 
 as his having concealed from those, with whom he was 
 
 4 c 
 
562 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 upon such contideiitial terms of intimacy, that he had so 
 near and dear a relative as a mother, of whose existence 
 even he had never spoken, much less that she was residing 
 within a short distance of them, and the object of his con- 
 stant care and attention. 
 
 ‘‘You must think me a strange, reserved being, Rosa,” 
 he observed, taking her hand, while his own trembled 
 with emotion, “ never to have spoken to you of the per- 
 son who has been thus unexpectedly introduced to you ; 
 but I cannot now, when your mind is already agitated 
 and occupied by Mrs. Dormer’s situation, attempt to 
 engage your sympathy for my unfortunate mother — I 
 have long, I confess, wished that I could gain courage to 
 relate to you the melancholy tale which will best explain 
 my motives for not publicly avowing one, who ” 
 
 “ Dear, dear Mr. Montgomery,” interrupted Rosa, 
 “ do not, I entreat, let that man’s imprudence and garru- 
 lity force you into an)^ avowal that is painful to you.” 
 
 “I was, I confess,” she continued, “having always been 
 led to suppose that you were, as well as myself, destitute 
 of those tender relations, surprised at hearing that you 
 had a mother — but I should despise myself, if I could 
 suffer any motive to induce me to force myself into your 
 confidence, which, I am satisfied, would not have been 
 withheld, but from proper and praiseworthy motives.” 
 
 “ Alas, no, Rosa, you give me credit for more than I 
 deserve,” returned Denzil, sighing. “ Pride has had the 
 greatest share in producing my silence — but we will g'o 
 to Mrs. Dormer, and, when she is better, and able to 
 bear conversation, I will relate to both her and you the 
 mournful history, which will add pity to those sentiments 
 with which you now honour me.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 563 
 
 From the time this statement was given, Rosa partook 
 of all DenziPs cares and anxieties respecting his mother, 
 whose fluctuating state admitted not of any certain pros- 
 pect of her final recovery, and yet continually flattered 
 him with hopes. But Rosa’s attention was soon wholly 
 engrossed by her aunt. 
 
 Disappointed in her hopes of Mr. Dormer’s return, 
 whom she had insisted should not be made acquainted 
 with her increased indisposition, the poor invalid required 
 all the care and attention of those around her, to preserve 
 her from sinking into despondency. 
 
 The last letter of Mr. Dormer, which arrived just at 
 the period when they had the fullest expectation of see- 
 » ing him, was far from satisfactory. 
 
 Charles had, it seemed, at last made his appearance to 
 his uncle ; but the latter, provoked at his unsatisfactory 
 excuses for his delay, and angry with Mr. Dormer, as it 
 appeared, for trying to screen him from his resentment, 
 had as yet refused to listen to any overtures for a recon- 
 ciliation. 
 
 “ The consequence is,” continued Mr. Dormer, “ that 
 Charles is unable, at present, to effect any arrangement 
 with his creditors, and is condemned to play at hide and 
 seek, lest he should be lodged in a prison ; and I, feel- 
 ing myself in some measure accessary, though from good 
 intentions, to his being placed in this awkward situation, 
 cannot leave England^ until I have either effected my pur- 
 pose, or become convinced that it is hopeless to pursue it 
 farther. 
 
 “ One good, however, 1 have been able to bring about,” 
 he continued. “ I have prevailed upon my friend Levi- 
 son to receive and acknowledge Emma, against whom he 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 564 
 
 was greatly prejudiced, considering her as the 'chief insti- 
 gator of her husband’s extravagance and dissipation. Her 
 deserted situation, and apparent sorrow and melancholy, 
 have had such an effect upon him, since I contrived to pre- 
 vail upon him to see her, that she is now a prime favourite. 
 He is, indeed, very solicitous that she should remain 
 with them, until after Miss Levison’s marriage, which, 
 by the by, is postponed sine die, or at least till Fanny 
 recovers her health, which is at present very delicate. 
 In fact, it is plain to be seen that Fanny’s heart revolts 
 from the union — though it must be acknowledged that, 
 except that he is a great many years older than herself, 
 her intended is all that could be desired by the most fas- 
 tidious.” 
 
 “ Except, indeed !” repeated Rosa, who read the letter 
 to Denzil, without apparently observing the emotion it 
 produced; ‘‘ that exception, I should think, would be 
 (juite sufficient! And all I wonder at is, that Miss Levison 
 should, even for a moment, have been induced to over- 
 look it. It is very natural for papas and mammas not to 
 see that there can be no sympathy between youth and 
 age : but I have no patience with a young girl, who can 
 be tempted by rank and riches to ” 
 
 “ Hush, hush, my dear,” interrupted Mrs. Dormer, 
 glancing at Denzil, in a manner that proved she was 
 much more an fait than Rosa, as to the feelings of the 
 latter on the subject they were speaking of; hush, you 
 cannot judge of circumstances you know nothing of; 
 and you should recollect that it is possible that Miss 
 Levison may have been influenced by very different 
 motives than regard for either rank or riches, in her 
 acceptance of this proposal.” I 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 565 
 
 Rosa’s ingenuous blush betrayed her sorrow at having 
 incurred this rebuke, which she felt the more keenly, 
 from the serious expression of Denzil’s countenance, in 
 which she was generally accustomed to read only appro- 
 bation, even in her gayest moments ; but which, she now 
 thought, concurred in the reproof her aunt had uttered. 
 
 In reality, however, Denzil thought little either of 
 Rosa or her aunt, at that precise moment. His thoughts 
 were wholly absorbed by the intelligence which Mr. 
 Dormer’s letter had conveyed. He beheld Fanny — pale, 
 melancholy, and despairing — yielding a reluctant consent 
 to what her heart revolted from, in obedience to her 
 father’s injunctions. “ And even those,” he reflected, 
 “ dutiful and obedient as she has been, would have failed 
 — I am sure they would have failed, in procuring her 
 compliance, had she not been convinced of my unworthi- 
 ness — had she not believed me as false as ungrateful, for 
 that affection which she once bestowed on me.” 
 
 To return to Mrs. Dormer. The disorder against 
 which she had been for some years struggling, seemed 
 daily to gain ground, and Denzil, at length seriously 
 alarmed both for her and Rosa, whose incessant watching 
 and unusual exertions were evidently materially injuring 
 her constitution, wrote, unknown to them, in the most 
 pressing terms to Mr. Dormer, to induce him to forego 
 all other considerations, and return immediately; and, 
 as he had hoped and expected, the next packet brought 
 over both that gentleman and his niece, Mrs. Charles 
 Levison. 
 
 The sinking spirits and health of the invalid seemed 
 for a short time to revive ; but, in a few days, the faint 
 spark, which had lingered beneath the fostering care of 
 
566 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 her attached and affectionate relatives, was extinguished, 
 and the amiable Mrs. Dormer breathed her last sigh, in 
 the arms of her husband. 
 
 Denzil, whom she had, during their short but interest- 
 ing acquaintance, beheld with a kindness and feeling little 
 short of maternal tenderness, was, at her special desire, 
 summoned to her bed-side in the last moments of her life 
 — but, before he arrived, the power of speech had failed, 
 and she could only press his hand and that of Rosa closely 
 together in hers. 
 
 The blood rushed impetuously to Denzil’s cheeks, as 
 he fancied he discovered in this impressive action, and 
 the beseeching look which accompanied it, a meaning 
 which his heart could not assent to. He dared not raise 
 his eyes to Rosa’s, fearful that he should read there a 
 confirmation of that suspicion, which had never before 
 entered his mind; but Rosa evidently thought only of 
 the affectionate relative who had been a mother to her, 
 and when she at length sank almost fainting' into Denzil’s 
 arms, and suffered him to convey her from the chamber 
 of death, it was evidently with the same feeling of confi- 
 dence that she would have resigned herself to the care of 
 an affectionate brother. 
 
 The remains of Mrs. Dormer were, by her express 
 desire, conveyed to England, to be consigned to their last 
 resting-place, with those of her family; and Mr. Dormer, 
 unable to bear the residence which had only been ren- 
 dered pleasant to him, as being thought conducive to the 
 health and comfort of her who could no longer be bene- 
 fited by it, returned from his melancholy task of seeing his 
 wife’s ashes deposited in her native earth, with the inten- 
 tion of immediately removing Rosa and her cousin from 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 56T 
 
 Paris ; though as yet undecided whether they would re- 
 turn at once to England, or proceed upon a tour through 
 France and Italy, 
 
 During his absence, Denzil had learned much from 
 Emma respecting Fanny, whom she acknowledged to be 
 miserable at the prospect of being united to a man she could 
 not love ; but while she, on the one hand, induced him to 
 expect that the marriage, which rendered him so wretched, 
 might yet be set aside — she, on the other, dashed all his 
 hopes for himself to the earth, by declaring that Fanny 
 never mentioned him without reprobating his conduct, and 
 speaking of him as one whose memory she wished to 
 bury for ever in oblivion. 
 
 Emma had, indeed, for a considerable time, evinced a 
 coolness towards Denzil which had given him great pain; 
 but which, conscious he had not deserved, he was at no 
 pains to remove. This feeling, on the part of Emma, had, 
 however, gradually yielded to his undeviating kindness, and 
 the proofs which she every day beheld, of the sensibility 
 of his heart, and the untiring benevolence of his nature. 
 
 From Mr. Dormer, too, she heard how deep an inte- 
 rest he had taken in the welfare of one, who, though 
 estranged from her, she still sighed for ; and gradually 
 she began to see, that, whatever might have been the 
 errors which had parted him from Fanny, they could not 
 have deserved the excessive resentment which both the 
 latter and her relatives expressed, whenever his name 
 was mentioned. 
 
 Emma, however, had quickly discovered a secret, which 
 she saw Denzil either did not, or would not perceive. 
 She saw that her cousin Rosa was deeply and fervently 
 attached to one who felt not the value of her affection. 
 
568 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 but turned with hopeless yet intense long-ings towards 
 her by whom he was now despised and rejected. 
 
 Denzil had, indeed, solemnly declared to Emma, that 
 none other but Fanny ever had, or ever could, become 
 the object of his love ; and Emma, thoug-h she felt it in- 
 consistent with the respect due to female delicacy, to hint 
 at the nature of Rosa’s attachment to him, beheld with 
 sorrow the latter fostering and nourishing feelings which 
 she felt were doomed to be blighted. 
 
 Taught, by what she had suffered, to reflect more se- 
 riously than her natural character, in the days of prospe- 
 rity, had promised, Emma’s thoughts were so often 
 engrossed by the contemplation of that sorrow which she 
 foresaw her cousin was laying up for herself, in the indul- 
 gence of a hopeless attachment, that Mr. Dormer’s at- 
 tention was at length excited; and he drew from her an 
 avowal that at once confirmed the fears and suspicions 
 which he had himself begun to indulge. 
 
 I will at once, however,” he observed, “ put an end 
 to all doubts on the subject. Painful as it will be, es- 
 pecially at this moment, to renounce Denzil Mont- 
 gomery’s society, I shall feel it my duty so to do, if I as- 
 certain that he is really so wedded to his unsuccessful 
 love for Fanny Levison, as to he incapable of properly 
 estimating my Rosa’s affection; and that she has be- 
 stowed it upon him, I have long seen — and, I confess, 
 foolishly flattered myself that he would not remain insen- 
 sible to it.” 
 
 In pursuance of the plan he had formed in his mind, 
 Mr. Dormer took occasion to announce to Denzil, when 
 they were together, that he had at length resolved to 
 winter in Italy; observing, that he thought the tour 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 569 
 
 would be beneficial both to his own health and that of the 
 females, as well as likely to divert the grief which Rosa 
 still suffered to prey on her mind, for the loss of her 
 aunt. 
 
 Denzil expressed his approbation of the plan, ob- 
 serving — 
 
 ‘‘At the same time I cannot but regret that I shall be so 
 long, in all probability, separated from my friends.’* 
 
 “ And what, then, obliges you to separate yourself 
 from us, Denzil?” demanded Mr. Dormer, looking 
 earnestly at him. 
 
 “ My interest — my affairs require my presence in Eng- 
 land,” returned Denzil, blushing. 
 
 “ Your interest !” repeated Mr. Dormer, “ rather say, 
 your fallacious hopes carry you there, my young friend. 
 You cannot, I think, be insensible to the fact that my 
 niece regards you with favour — I know little of you be- 
 yond your personal recommendations and the proofs 
 which I have seen of your disposition and principles — but 
 they are such as I am convinced would secure her happi- 
 ness, and outweigh, with me, all those requisites of birth 
 and fortune which the world think necessary to happiness. 
 For fortune, Rosa has sufficient — more than sufficient 
 
 “ My dear, dear sir ! my kind and ever-respected 
 friend !” interrupted Denzil, distressed beyond m.easure. 
 “ How can I reply to this unmerited kindness and favour ? 
 How shall I avoid appearing ungrateful, in acknowledg- 
 ing that I cannot — that my heart is unable to conquer 
 
 that unhappy passion, which ” 
 
 “ Say not another word, Montgomery,” interrupted 
 Mr. Dormer, trying to maintain his calmness, though 
 
 4 D 
 
570 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 evidently much disappointed and chagrined. “ Forget,’^ 
 he continued, ‘‘that this subject has ever been mentioned, 
 and you will confer on me the greatest favour that is in 
 your power to bestow. I shall myself try, I assure you, 
 to banish from my mind the remembrance that Rosa, 
 who is ignorant of the offer I have made you, has been 
 rejected.” 
 
 “ What an unfortunate being am I !” exclaimed Den- 
 zil ; but Mr. Dormer was already out of hearing ; and 
 the former, not wishing at the present moment to en- 
 counter either Rosa or Mrs. Levison, returned pensively 
 home. 
 
 At dinner, from which he could not with any propriety 
 absent himself, the swollen eyes and disordered manner 
 of Rosa betrayed that some communication had been 
 made to her, which had greatly distressed her. Denzil 
 could scarcely think it possible that she could have been 
 acquainted with what had passed between her uncle and 
 himself in the morning. Mr. Dormer had, indeed, ex- 
 pressly stated that she was ignorant of his intention of 
 mentioning the subject; but it was plain that something 
 had greatly affected her, and it was also plain that she 
 had lost her usual frankness and ease of manner towards 
 Denzil, whose eyes she avoided, and whose attentions she 
 received with a timidity and reserve totally foreign to her 
 real character. 
 
 Mr. Dormer and Emma also were grave and thought- 
 ful ; and, for the tirst time, Denzil felt himself ill at ease 
 in their society. 
 
 The cause of this alteration was, however, soon ex- 
 plained, when the cloth was removed, and the ladies had 
 retired, by Mr. Dormer’s observing that he had com- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 571 
 
 municated to Rosa his intention of proceeding imme- 
 diately on the tour he had projected. 
 
 “ She has, for the first time,” he continued, “ the very 
 first time in her life, expressed unwillingness to accede 
 to my wishes. She would rather go to London — she 
 did not like Italy — she was tired of foreign > countries, 
 though I have heard her a thousand times express her 
 wish to visit Rome, and never, until now, knew her to 
 utter a word like distaste of a residence abroad. It is 
 very provoking,” he continued, “ that I should just now, 
 when I am so little able to bear it, have to encounter the 
 petulant opposition of a girl, from whom I have hitherto 
 been accustomed to receive the most implicit obedience, 
 * merely I suppose because my commands have hitherto 
 happened to square with her inclinations. I have let her 
 know, however, that I will be obeyed, and I trust when, 
 as no doubt she will, she communicates to you the cause 
 of her dissatisfaction, you will impress upon her the pro- 
 priety of her yielding to my wishes, without giving her 
 
 any reason to suspect in short, Denzil, let her see that 
 
 you are quite indifferent to her ” 
 
 “ Indifferent, sir !” exclaimed Denzil, colouring. “ It 
 is impossible — I can never feel indifferent to Miss Somer- 
 ville — Her peace and happiness are as dear to me as my 
 own existence !” 
 
 “Hem!” ejaculated Mr. Dormer, with peculiar signifi- 
 cance ; “ however, be that as it will, Denzil, I trust to 
 your good sense and prudence, not to suffer Rosa to sus- 
 pect what has passed between us. Do not let her be 
 mortified by knowing that I have stooped to sue to you 
 for her, and that you rejected her.” 
 
 Denzil could not, nor did he attempt to frame a reply, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 and Mr. Dormer, after sitting some time thoughtful and 
 silent, proposed to adjourn to the drawing-room. 
 
 “ My uncle has, I suppose, told you the plan he has 
 determined on?” said Rosa, in alow tone, as Denzil seated 
 himself by lier side, as usual. 
 
 He has,” returned the latter, assuming a tone of calm- 
 ness and unembarrassment, which he was far from feeling, 
 
 and I am surprised,” he continued, “ to hear that it 
 does not meet your approbation entirely ; for, really, I 
 should have thought you would have been delighted with 
 the prospect of such a tour — and a residence of some 
 months in Rome ; for my ov/n part, I should have been 
 most happy to have joined your party, but that circum- 
 stances compel me to ret\iru to England.” 
 
 And you mean, then, 1 suppose, to remain in Eng- 
 land?” said Rosa, turning pale, and fixing her penetrating 
 eyes on his face. 
 
 In all probability I sliali,” returned Denzil, still 
 maintaining his calmness. 
 
 Rosa utterefl not a word. Her beautiful eyes were 
 instantly cast down, and she seemed totally absent, and 
 insensible to all that passed, until roused by some ques- 
 tion which her uncle twice repeated before she could 
 comprehend him. 
 
 In a few moments Mr. Dormer led the conversation 
 to the subject of their intended journey, and Denzil had 
 the pleasure to see that Rosa, seeming to recover herself, 
 entered into the discussion that took place with regard 
 to their route, with some portion of her usual spirits. 
 
 He could not, however, but discern that her gaiety was 
 forced, and that her expectations in her application to him 
 had been wholly disappointed. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 573 
 
 From this time until the departure of Mr, Dormer 
 and his nieces, Denzil was wretched; for he felt that, 
 though their manners remained the same, the hearts of 
 both Rosa and her uncle were greatly changed towards 
 him. Emma, indeed, remained as friendly as usual ; but 
 her kindness and confidence were but a poor compensa- 
 tion for the loss of Mr. Dormer's esteem and almost 
 paternal alfection, and Rosa’s gentle and endearing atten- 
 tions, It was, therefore, with far less regret than he 
 would otherwise have felt, that he heard that Mr. Dor- 
 mer had fixed an early day in the following week for 
 their departure. 
 
 A long silence followed this announcement from Mr. 
 Dormer ; Denzil dared not offer a remark, lest it should 
 draw forth some reply which he could not parry ; but 
 when Emma at length observed — 
 
 “ I suppose, Mr. Montgomery, you will not remain 
 long in Paris after us ?” he ventured to say, 
 
 Were I to consult only my own inclinations, I 
 should not stay here one hour after those are gone, who 
 alone can render a residence here pleasant to me.” 
 
 Rosa’s eyes met his at that moment, but they were both 
 withdrawn in confusion ; for Denzil felt that Rosa’s sought 
 a meaning there, which they could not find ; and Rosa 
 experienced but too keenly the conviction, that, however 
 sincere the expression of his feelings, she must not Hatter 
 herself that they were meant to be applied oilier wise than 
 generally. 
 
 Denzil felt a pang of the keenest regret, as he beheld 
 the cloud of melancholy steal over the fair face that he 
 had been used to see beaming with animation ; and heard, 
 instead of the gay remark, the lively observation, and the 
 playful witticisms with which she had been wont to amuse 
 
574 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 her uncle, and enliven all around her, only the half-sup- 
 pressed sigh, or the querulous complaint, which betrayed 
 her discontent with herself, and all that was accustomed 
 to afford her pleasure. 
 
 Rosa was, indeed, wretched and despondent — her 
 books, her music, her pencil, which had been never-failing 
 sources of amusement and pleasure, all were now “ flat, 
 stale, and unprofitable.” Even the society of Emma, 
 from which she had anticipated so much, seemed to have 
 lost all charm for her ; and the latter, already seriously 
 depressed by her situation, and the mortifications and 
 disappointments she had met with, felt most keenly the 
 change in her cousin. She had anticipated, in Rosa’s 
 vivacity and kindness, relief from the melancholy and dul- 
 ness which her mother’s reproaches and her own reflec- 
 tions had created ; and she found, instead, that Rosa was 
 even more unhappy, and more discontented with her fate 
 than herself. 
 
 Nursed in the lap of fortune, Rosa Somerville had never 
 indulged a wish hitherto that had not been gratified ; and, 
 though her excellent understanding and disposition had 
 prevented her contracting those faults which are too often 
 the consequence of unlimited indulgence ; yet she was 
 unequal to bear disappointment with that calmness and 
 equanimity which she might have done, had she been 
 earlier inured to contradiction to her wishes. 
 
 The time arrived for their departure, without anything 
 having occurred to effect any change in the prospects or 
 intentions, either of Mr. Dormer and his family, or of 
 Montgomery. 
 
 Rosa evidently strove to veil her sorrow under the 
 appearance of indifference, while Denzil, agitated with 
 a thousand contending feelings, beheld the hour of separa- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 575 
 
 tion arrive with apparently more regret and reluctance 
 than she did, who, in reality, felt that it would be the 
 death-blow to her happiness. 
 
 On the evening previous to their departure, Denzil 
 was accidentally left alone with Miss Somerville ; and, 
 contrary to the course she had latterly pursued, she did 
 not attempt to leave the room and avoid him, but occu- 
 pied herself with tossing over the contents of her writing- 
 desk, without appearing at all to regard his presence. 
 
 Denzil became confused and agitated ; he saw that her 
 indifference was assumed, and that she was in reality 
 totally unconscious what she was doing, though she af- 
 fected to be so busily employed — for he beheld her re- 
 peatedly place and displace the contents of her desk, open 
 over and over again the same papers ; and, in short, be- 
 tray evident signs that her mind was occupied with very 
 different subjects than those which she tried to appear 
 busied in. 
 
 Rosa was beautiful — but Denzil had never seen her 
 look so beautiful as at this moment, fluttered between fear 
 and hope, conscious of acting contrary to the dictates of 
 her pride and resentment, and yet still endeavouring to 
 keep up the appearance which that pride suggested. 
 
 Her eyes studiously avoided even a glance at Denzil, 
 who, on his part, scarcely dared look at her, and yet 
 could not withdraw his attention from her. 
 
 The thought suddenly came into his mind, that this 
 was the last hour they should ever spend together ! 
 Would she forget him in other scenes, in new connec- 
 tions? — or would she still continue in secret to cherish 
 that preference of him which she now felt? — were the 
 questions he asked himself. “ And could I be otherwise 
 
576 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 than happy, he thought, “ possessed of the love of such a 
 being- — possessed of the esteem, the regard, of all her re- 
 latives — and possessed, too, of the means of making her 
 happy ? And shall I sacrifice all this real and substantial 
 good, to a shadow? — to the remembrance of one v/ho de- 
 spises me — and whom it will soon be a crime for me to 
 think of?’ 
 
 Rosa at that moment raised her eyes to his, with a look 
 of timid irresolution, yet as if longing to break through 
 the reserve which kept them both silent. 
 
 Denzil arose and approached her, ‘‘ Can I assist you, 
 dear Rosa?” he demanded, in a voice faltering with 
 emotion. 
 
 Rosa started, but did not reply — and Denzil, taking her 
 hand, added — 
 
 “ Why are you thus silent? thus estranged from your 
 friend, Rosa? believe me ” 
 
 The door opened, and Mrs. Levison rushed into the 
 room— — 
 
 ‘‘Oh, Mr. Montgomery,” she exclaimed,- “ read that, 
 and advise me what I shall do ! My uncle is so cruel, he 
 will not listen to me ! yet, how can I bear the thought of 
 Charles’s sufferings, and in a prison! Oh, Rosa, pity me, 
 and join with me in entreating your uncle to let me go to 
 my husband !” 
 
 “ My dear, dear Emma !” exclaimed Rosa, “ explain 
 what has happened — why are you so distressed ? — who Is 
 that letter from ?” 
 
 “ It is from Fanny — Fanny Levison,” she replied ; 
 “she promised me solemnly that she would conceal noth- 
 ing from me that came to her knowledge respecting 
 Charles, and now hear what she has written ? Read it, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 577 
 
 Denzil — I cannot !” and she put the letter into his 
 hands. 
 
 Denzil felt the blood rush to his face, as he caught 
 Rosa’s eyes fixed on him, as he took the letter from her 
 cousin ; but the sight of the well-known hand-w'riting', 
 and, above all, of his own name more than once repeated 
 in the page which his eye glanced over, dissipated in an 
 instant all recollection of Rosa, or of any one in the world 
 but she who had traced those characters — the gentle, 
 lovely being, to whom his youthful heart had been devoted, 
 and who was still nurtured and cherished there with fond 
 idolatry. 
 
 « Why do you not read itjDenzil?” demanded the un- 
 happy Mrs. Levison ; ‘‘ there are no secrets there !” 
 
 Denzil felt the full import of her words, which were 
 intended to assure him that there was nothing' said of 
 himself, which he could object to read to Rosa; and he 
 immediately proce ded with the letter, which was as 
 follows. 
 
 “ Why, my dearest Emma, will you thus press me to 
 communicate that wliich, I am sure, it will be far better 
 to withhold from you — that which can only distress you, 
 without your having the power to remedy it? A thou- 
 sand times have I repented the promise I made, and 
 which you so forcibly remind me of. This prelude will 
 prepare you for the ill news which I have to impart. I 
 told you, in my last, that 1 Iiad great hopes that my fa- 
 ther would speedily be brought to listen to the arrange- 
 ments Avhich your uncle proposed in favour of Charles, and 
 that I had succeeded in enlisting in his favour a person 
 who at present has more infiuence with my father than 
 my aunt and myself, who had been forbidden to mention 
 
 4 E 
 
riiK oiPSY M()thi:r. 
 
 rm 
 
 the name of yonr unhappy husband. So far had this suc- 
 ceeded, tliat papa had sent him a sum of money on Wed- 
 nesday, and had appointed him to come to dinner to-day, 
 with the view of talking over with him the arrangements 
 proposed. 
 
 “ On Wednesday evening, we all went to Co vent Gar- 
 den theatre, and were scarcely seated, before my aunt 
 descried Charles in an opposite box, sitting between two 
 females, whose appearance was most conspicuous, both 
 from their being extremely pretty, and their being dressed 
 in the extreme of the Parisian fashion. 
 
 ‘‘ Before I could give aunt Rachel a hint to be silent, 
 she had pointed her nephew out to our companion, the 
 Earl of Raeburn, and I saw the latter look very signifi- 
 cantly at the ladies. My aunt, too, observed this, and 
 inquired if he knew who they were ? 
 
 “ ‘ I have seen the one who sits on Mr. Levison’s left; 
 hand,’ he replied. ‘ She was in Paris, at the time I 
 made a few weeks’ sojourn there, and was the object of 
 groat attention and curiosity, on account of a duel which 
 had been fought on her account by an Englishman named 
 Montgomery.’ 
 
 “ ‘ Good Heavens !’ exclaimed my aunt, ‘ that is the 
 
 Miss Delaney, whom Denzil Montgomery ’ 
 
 I tried to silence her, for I did not wish the whole 
 affair to be discussed at that moment — but you know 
 aunt Rachel’s way — she went on with the story of Den- 
 zil and Miss Delaney, seeming to forget entirely that it 
 was probable that Charles Levison was in more danger 
 of suffering from his acquaintance with that lady, than 
 over Mr. Montgomery had been. 
 
 “ It was not until she had entirely concluded, that Earl 
 
T»E GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 5Tj) 
 
 Raeburn expressed his surprise that Mr. Levison should 
 appear to be on such intimate terms with Miss Delaney. 
 
 ‘‘ You may guess, dear Emma, how vexed and sur- 
 prised I was, after the pains I had taken to interest Earl 
 Raeburn in Charles’s favour — after prevailing on him to 
 be his advocate with my father — and succeeding, by his 
 interference, in gaining the grand point, that of procuring 
 an interview between them, which I knew would be the 
 means of a final reconciliation ; and then to see all my 
 representations of Charles’s penitence and reformation 
 directly falsified by his conduct — for what excuse could 
 he make for his appearance wifli a woman, whose charac- 
 ter he must be well aware of, and whom 4c, of aU per- 
 sons, ought to have avoided. 
 
 “I sat silent, for I could not say a word in vindication of 
 Charles, who, totally unconscious of our observation, was 
 chattering and laughing with his companions in the high- 
 est spirits. A gentleman entered their box, and spoke 
 to Charles, whom the Earl recognised as an old friend 
 and school-fellow ; and, apologising for leaving us a few 
 minutes, his lordship proceeded to that part of the house 
 where they were seated. I saw him shake hands with 
 his friend, and, in a few minutes, I beheld an introduction 
 take place between him and Charles, and the latter retired 
 with him to the back of the box. 
 
 His lordship, on his return to us, informed us, that, 
 on his mentioning that we were in the house, and had 
 seen him, Charles appeared dreadfully confused, but still 
 more so, on his lordship’s hinting our surprise at seeing 
 him in such society. 
 
 “ He inquired, with embarrassment, how it was possi- 
 ble his aunt and cousin could know Miss Delaney, and 
 appeared still more embarrassed when Earl Raeburn can- 
 
580 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 flidly stated that he had recognised the lady, and mentioned 
 her name, without being aware how intimately the affair, 
 which had made her of such notoriety in Paris, had con- 
 cerned Mr. Levison’s family, Charles, it appeared, did 
 not attempt to offer a word in vindication either of him- 
 self or his female companion; and Earl Raeburn feeling, 
 as he said, that he had sufficiently mortified him, left 
 Charles, and returned, with the gentleman whom he 
 had gone thither to join, to our box. On his way to 
 which, the Earl was informed by his friend, that Charles 
 
 had* actually brought this Miss Delaney, or Mrs. 
 
 Something, (for I understand she is really married) from 
 France with him. And,’ added Captain Falkland, which 
 was the name of his lordship’s friend, * I am surprised 
 at Mr. Levison’s imprudence in appearing in public, when 
 it is well known that he is in hourly danger of being ar- 
 rested.* 
 
 “ We saw nothing more of Charles — for he and his 
 companions, almost instantly afterwards, quitted the 
 house, or at least that part of it, and nothing more was 
 said of him; for Captain Falkland and Earl Raeburn had 
 not seen each other for four or five years, and they were 
 full of chat upon what had passed in the interim. The 
 Captain accepted Earl Raeburn and my aunt’s invitation 
 to sup with us. Unfortunately, papa, contrary to his 
 usual custom, was up when we returned ; and, still more 
 unfortunately. Captain Falkland, not having been cau- 
 tioned, in the course of conversation betrayed that we 
 liad seen Charles at the theatre. 
 
 “You know how easily my father’s suspicions are ex- 
 cited — our silence on the subject immediately convinced 
 him that there was something conpealed from him ; and 
 ^ye were of necessity compelled to reveal the trwthf I 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 5S1 
 
 need not tell you how dreadfully enraged he was, at this 
 fresh instance of Charles’s folly— but this is not the worst. 
 The next morning, Captain Falkland walked in, before 
 we had finished breakfast — I saw that something particular 
 had occasioned his early visit, which he apologised for by 
 saying that he was obliged to leave town in the evening, 
 and wished to see Earl Raeburn, on business of import- 
 ance. 
 
 Before, however, he left the room with his lordship, 
 he contrived, unobserved by my father or aunt, to throw 
 a letter into my lap, which I instantly guessed to be from 
 Charles. 
 
 ‘‘ I was right — but you may imagine my grief and sur- 
 prise, when I read the following words — ‘ Dearest Fanny, 
 — I hope you will think I am punished severely enongli 
 for my folly, without losing your favour, when I tell you 
 that I am in prison. I was arrested last night, the mo- 
 ment I quitted the theatre. I know that I deserve all I 
 meet with; but yet, Fanny, I do hope that you will inter- 
 cede with my uncle to release me; for I know I shall die, 
 if I am left to linger in a prison. I am, indeed, quite ill 
 already, with anxiety and remorse. Falkland, whom I 
 sent for this morning, has promised to do all he can for 
 me; but I know nobody can assist me so materially as 
 you, if you will but exert your influence with your 
 father.’ 
 
 ‘‘Such,” continued the writer, “was the letter I received. 
 Need I tell my dear Emma, that I lost no time in com- 
 plying Avith the request it contained ? But, alas, my father 
 is inexorable I He will not even listen to me for a mo- 
 ment; and Earl Raeburn, though he does not say so, 
 from deference to me, yet I can see he thinks that the 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 58 ‘^ 
 
 proper method to reclaim Charles, thoroughly, from his 
 extravagance, and teach him to distinguish between his 
 real friends, and those who assume the mask only to draw 
 him into the vortex of dissipation, will be to let him re- 
 main where he is, for some time. My aunt, too, is always 
 of the same opinion with his lordship, and will not take 
 my hints that it is in her power, if she would, to release 
 Charles — I have no patience with any of them — so much 
 prudence, and foresight, and calculation ! 
 
 ‘‘ My dear, dear Emma, I have been in twenty minds, 
 since I began this letter, whether I ought to send it — • 
 but I feel I am bound by my promise, and that you would 
 have just cause to reproach me with having violated it, if 
 I had concealed aught from you. I hope, however, that 
 my next will convey more favourable information, and 
 that, in the mean time, you will believe that I will leave 
 nothing undone that can serve poor Charleses cause — 
 though I am very angry with him, too — more angry than 
 I shall say, now that he is in distress. If Mr. Montgo- 
 mery is still near you, I would advise you, dear Emma, 
 to tell him what has happened — I know he will not let 
 prudence deter him from doing all he can to save his 
 friend — though, at the same time, I know he has it not 
 in his power to do all that he might feel inclined to do — 
 for Captain Falkland tells me that Charles’s debts are 
 much heavier than he has been willing to acknowledge ; 
 and, of course, he cannot get out of prison till they are 
 all paid. Now, do not fret, Emma, and fancy that he is 
 in want of any comforts, except his liberty — for my aunt 
 and I will take care of that; and I hope and trust that in 
 a few days I shall be able to send you some more satis- 
 factory account of him.” 
 
THE (i^II\SV MOTHER. 
 
 583 
 
 Deiizil folded the letter, and remained for some minutes 
 silent — but his thoughts were more engrossed by the 
 writer than the subject. “ Mister Montgomery !” he 
 repeated to himself, with bitterness, “how coldly does 
 that sound from her ; and yet she does me justice — she 
 speaks of me without resentment — Alas, her coldness is 
 worse tlian anger ! If she were still interested enough to 
 feel anger at my supposed offences, I might still have 
 hopes of convincing her of her injustice — but this frigid 
 coldness ” 
 
 “ You do not think, then, that 1 ought to go, Mr. 
 Montgomery,” said Mrs. Levison, who had been anxiously 
 
 watching his countenance, “ and yet ” 
 
 “ I do not say that you ought not, if there were the 
 smallest probability that your presence could benefit 
 Charles — but I really think, that, at the present moment, 
 it would considerably add to his distress, and not be pro- 
 ductive of the slightest advantage.” 
 
 Emma burst into tears — it was plain that she had in- 
 dulged the hope that Denzil would second her in her pro- 
 ject of returning to England, and she was proportionably 
 disappointed at his failing to do so. 
 
 Denzifs compassionate heart melted at her distress, 
 
 “ How mad and blind must Charles be,” he thought to 
 himself, “ to trifle with and disregard the affection which 
 ought to have been so valuable to him, and which, even 
 now, survives his inconstancy and neglect.” 
 
 “ I will talk to Mr. Dormer,” he observed, “ and if he 
 will consent to your going, I will myself accompany you 
 as far as Dover.” 
 
 And why not to London ?” inquired Emma, an- 
 xiously. 
 
584 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHEIl. 
 
 Montgomery blushed — Because I must return as 
 quickly as possible,” he replied, “ on account of my 
 mother.” 
 
 But I thought Mrs. Montgomery intended to go to 
 England,” observed Miss Somerville. Has she altered 
 that 
 
 ‘‘Oh, no,” replied Montgomery, with some embar- 
 rassment. 
 
 “ Then what should hinder my travelling with you and 
 her, dear Denzil?” demanded Emma, “that is, if she would 
 not object.” 
 
 I must talk to Mr. Dormer about it,” again observed 
 Denzil; “ and I will go at once — he is in his own room, 
 is he not ?” 
 
 Emma replied in the affirmative, and Denzil went in 
 search of Mr. Dormer, whom he found, as he expected, 
 greatly incensed against Charles, whose conduct Denzil 
 was obliged to acknowledge was Indefensible. 
 
 “ Nevertheless, my dear sir,” continued the latter, “ I 
 would certainly advise you to accede to Mrs. Levison’s 
 wishes. Desperate cases require desperate remedies — 
 and I look upon it that Charles is in that critical 
 situation, that he will now be either wholly reclaimed 
 from his errors, or finally confirmed in them. What can 
 be so likely to achieve his perfect reformation, as the ten- 
 der attentions of a young and beautiful wife — from whom, 
 he must be conscious, he little deserves to be treated with 
 kindness?” 
 
 “ I see, my niece has contrived completely to enlist you 
 on her side, Mr. Montgomery,” observed Mr. Dormer, 
 “though I very much doubt the justice of the arguments 
 you offer. However, Charles shall not liave to reproach 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 585 
 
 I 
 
 me ^vith having stood in the way of his interest — I will 
 no longer offer any opposition to Emma’s going — but 
 how does she propose to go ? She cannot, surely, think 
 of travelling alone !” 
 
 Though aware that Mr. Dormer was acquainted with 
 so much of his unfortunate mother’s history as he had 
 thought proper to communicate to Miss Somerville, Den- 
 zil shrank from mentioning her name to Mr. Dormer, 
 who, though he had sometimes indirectly alluded to her, 
 had never absolutely spoken of her to him. 
 
 Denzil thought that there was something in this 
 silence which testified that Mr. Dormer did not con- 
 sider her in the light in which his filial affection would 
 have had her considered. Without, therefore, saying a 
 word of Mrs. Levison’s suggestion that she could travel 
 with him and his mother, he repeated to Mr. Dormer 
 the offer he had made, of accompanying her as far as 
 Dover. 
 
 Mr. Dormer smiled, and shook his head — ‘‘ That will 
 never do, Denzil,” he observed; ‘‘for though I should, 
 with the most perfect confidence, entrust Emma, or even 
 Rosa, to your honour — there would be an impropriety, 
 in the eyes of the world, in so young a female travelling 
 alone with you. If, indeed, your mother would have no 
 
 objection 1 know not why you have ever avoided 
 
 speaking of her to me, Denzil — but I myself can see no 
 reason against Emma’s travelling with Mrs. Montgomery, 
 unless she objects to it.” 
 
 “ I should like you to see my mother, sir,” said Den- 
 zil hastily, and with emotion. 
 
 “ And I have not the least objection to do so, my 
 young friend,” replied Mr, Dormer, with alacrity, “ It 
 
 4 y 
 
586 
 
 THE Gll’SV MOTHER. 
 
 is what I have often Avished, but did not know how to 
 propose — but I will, if you think it will not be disagreea- 
 ble to her, accompany you this evening; and, if she con- 
 sents to take charge of this foolish girl, she may e*en go 
 to her husband, and so you may go and set her heart at 
 rest — for I know it was her who sent you here.’^ 
 
 
 ' CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 *Tis woman alone, with a purer heart, 
 
 Can see all the idols of life depart ; 
 
 And love the more, and smile, and bless, 
 
 Man in his uttermost wretchedness. 
 
 Barry Cornwall. 
 
 During their walk to Mrs. Montgomery’s lodgings, 
 Denzil recounted to his companion the principal heads of 
 his mother’s eventful history, suppressing, however, as he 
 had in his previous narrative to Miss Somerville, her 
 marriage to Mr. Levison, and her connexion with the 
 tragical event of his death. 
 
 There Avas, however, a mystery in his (Denzil’s) be- 
 coming the protege of Mr^ Charles Levison, senior, Avhich 
 Avas very apparent to Mr. Dormer, and Avhich his ques- 
 tions failed to elicit any satisfactory reply to, on the part 
 of Denzil, Avho, unversed in, and abhorring deception, at 
 once acknowledged that he bad reasons for declining to 
 enter upon that part of his OAvn personal history. 
 
 “ I do not Avish to ask you one question, that could 
 
THE (JIPSY 3I()T1IEI(. 
 
 587 
 
 give you a moment’s pain,” said Mr. Dormer, kindly, "*and 
 now we will drop the subject.” 
 
 Mrs. Montgomery’s surprise and confusion at the in- 
 troduction of a stranger by her son, could be equalled 
 only by Mr. Dormer’s. Prepared only to see an invalid, 
 faded by care and sickness, he was so struck with the ex- 
 cessive. beauty of features, and elegance of form possessed 
 by the female who arose to receive him, that he remained 
 for a moment or two silently gazing at her, and scarcely 
 believing that she could be the mother of the tall, full- 
 grown young man who took her hand, and presented her 
 as such. 
 
 Naturally frank and easy in his manners, Mr. Dormer, 
 however, soon contrived to dissipate the restraint and 
 embarrassment which his unexpected introduction had 
 occasioned ; and Mrs. Montgomery, gratified by the re- 
 spect and attention of her son’s friend, was gradually 
 drawn into a conversation, her part of which she sustained 
 with a vivacity and brilliancy of which Denzil had formed 
 no previous conception. 
 
 More than once, however, some allusion to the name 
 of Levison, by Mr. Dormer, heightened the colour in her 
 cheek, and occasioned a momentary embarrassment ; but 
 Mr. Dormer did not or would not perceive it — and it 
 was not until Denzil ventured to remind him that Miss 
 Somerville and Emma would be uneasy at their absence, 
 (the cause of which they were unacquainted with), that 
 he shewed any inclination to depart. 
 
 The proposal which he made, to place his niece under 
 her protection, during her journey to England, was evi- 
 dently highly gratifying to Mrs. Montgomery, who, long 
 unaccustomed to female society, evidently anticipated with 
 
588 
 
 TilE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 great pleasure her introduction to the lady, whom Mr. 
 Dormer described as his niece, who was going to Eng- 
 land to join her husband. 
 
 ‘‘It is Mrs. Charles Levison, my dear mother, of 
 whom Mr. Dormer speaks,” observed Denzil, who 
 thought the information would come better from him, 
 than from Mr. Dormer. 
 
 Elinor bent her head, to conceal the feelings which 
 this information excited, and Mr. Dormer remarked, 
 
 “It is an unfortunate name, madam, in the matrimo- 
 nial way — at least, as far as my knowledge of the family 
 extends. I have never,” and he turned to Denzil, “ yet 
 known one Levison, cither male or female, who made a 
 happy marriage.” 
 
 “ It is, at any rate, Charles’s own fault,” observed 
 Denzil rising, and standing so as to screen the excessive 
 agitation of his mother from the eye of Mr. Dormer. 
 
 “ Oh, I am not going to say on which side the fault 
 has been,” returned Mr. Dormer, totally unconscious of 
 the embarrassment he was occasioning, “ In one or two 
 instances, indeed,” he continued, “ I know, the fault 
 has been on the side of the Levisons. My old friend 
 Charles, I believe, foolishly threw away his chance, 
 from mistaken pride^ — and of his two brothers, Alfred 
 the eldest ” 
 
 “You are unwell, my dearest mother,” interrupted 
 Denzil, in a state of the most painful confusion. “We 
 have, I fear, tired you, and you have exerted yourself too 
 much. My mother is so little used to company,” he con- 
 tinued, turning to Mr. Dormer, who stood gazing on her 
 pale countenance with a look of alarm. 
 
 ^*I will go immediately, my friend,” returned Mr, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEftr 
 
 ii89 
 
 Dormer. “ I am indeed sorry, very sorry tliat I should 
 . have trespassed so long.” 
 
 “ Go, my dear boy, go with your friend,” whispered 
 Mrs. Montgomery, raising her head from his shoulder. 
 ‘‘ I shall soon be well, when I am alone — alas, I have 
 been so proud and so happy for the last hour or two, that 
 I had forgotten ” 
 
 « Forget every thing, dear mother, that can make 
 you otherwise than proud and happy !” returned Denzil, 
 in the same tone. “ I will return again, when I have 
 seen Mr. Dormer home, and hope to find you have sha- 
 ken off this weakness.” 
 
 During their return home, Mr. Dormer was unusu- 
 ally silent and thoughtful. 
 
 Denzil more than once endeavoured to engage him in 
 conversation on the subject of the journey he was about 
 to commence ; but the former immediately diverged from 
 the point, into some remark respecting Mrs. Montgo- 
 mery, who, he said, was, without exception, the most beau- 
 tiful woman he had ever beheld. 
 
 Flas my old friend Levison ever seen her ?” he de- 
 manded, looking earnestly at Denzil. 
 
 I do not know — I believe not,” returned the latter, 
 with confusion. If he ever did, it must have been very 
 transiently, and many years ago.” 
 
 Mr. Dormer returned to his musing — It cannot be !” 
 he murmured to himself, ‘‘ and yet I have heard that she 
 was exquisitely beautiful — but such a countenance, so 
 heavenly ” 
 
 Again he turned, and fixed his eyes on Denzll’s face. 
 
 ‘‘ Denzil !” he exclaimed, ‘‘ I acknowledge I would 
 give the world to have the doubts and surmises which 
 
'I'HK f’.ll'SV MOTH EH. 
 
 o9() 
 
 have forced themselves into my mind satished — and yet 1 
 fear to name them to you.” 
 
 “ You need not name them, sir,” returned Denzil, try- 
 ing to assume a calmness he was far from feeling ; “ I 
 can anticipate all you would say — all that you suspect !” 
 
 “ Good heavens, can it be possible !” exclaimed Wr. 
 Dormer, with horror in his look. “ Can it be possible 
 that your mother is the 1 cannot utter the word ” 
 
 “ My mother was the unfortunate wife of Alfred Levi- 
 son,” said Denzil, “ but she was not the guilty wretch 
 you believe her.” 
 
 “ Oh, no, she could not be !” returned Mr. Dormer, 
 hastily, “ that face could never veil a black, designing 
 heart — and yet, what a tale of horror have I heard !” 
 
 “ It was a tale of horror !” repeated Denzil, ‘‘ yet, I 
 again assert, that, in the main points, my mother was in- 
 nocent — she was more — for she was self-sacrificed ! Slie 
 bore the imputation of guilt, to save the wretch whom 
 she believed to be her father.” 
 
 “ Do not let us see the women to-night, Denzil,” said 
 Mr. Dormer, as they at that moment entered the hotel. 
 
 I could not bear their frivolous questions ; and I am, 
 besides, so anxious to hear the explanation which you 
 will not, I am sure, refuse. We will order supper in my 
 little study, and then ” 
 
 “ And then I will relate to you the true statement of 
 that affair which drove my unhappy mother from the 
 world, and which, even now, she trembles with horror 
 to recal to her memory.” 
 
 “ I saw it,” replied Mr. Dormer. “ I saw the look 
 of anguish and alarm which convulsed her features, the 
 moment I uttered the name of Alfred Levison — and the 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 591 
 
 dreadful conviction instantly rushed upon my mind, that 
 in her I beheld the guilty woman, whose beauty had at 
 the time seemed to make her crime but the more horrid 
 and repulsive.” 
 
 Scarcely could Mr. Dormer restrain his impatience 
 until the servant was gone who attended to light them to 
 the study, and brought thither the sandwiches and wine 
 which his master had ordered, more to prevent any unea- 
 siness or interruption on the part of his niece Rosa, than 
 from any desire for the repast — but having, at length, 
 fairly got rid of him, and closed the door, he drew his 
 chair opposite to DenziPs, and, with the most intense 
 interest, listened to the full and unvarnished statement 
 which the latter gave, not only of the circumstances of 
 Mr. Levison’s death, and of those which had preceded 
 that event, but of all that had since occurred, up to the 
 period of Tyrrell’s death. 
 
 Mr. Dormer’s countenance, as well as his frequent excla- 
 mations, expressed the greatest pity for the unfortunate 
 Elinor, and detestation of the wretch who had so basely 
 taken advantage of her inexperience and misdirected feel- 
 ings. Not a look or a word expressed the slightest distrust 
 that the statement made by Denzil was not the true one. 
 
 “But, though I believe, hrrnly believe, that every word 
 is true that you have uttered, my dear young friend,” he 
 observed, “ my belief or yours would go but little towards 
 exonerating her in the eyes of the world, were your 
 mother to be recognised — nay, I tremble to think that it 
 would be in the power of any malicious or even busy and 
 officious person, and there are too many such to be met 
 with — but we will not talk of that — we will not think of 
 it, farther than that it is necessary carefully to guard the 
 
592 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 secret, whicli I have so easily discovered, and which, 
 therefore. I fear the probability of others discovering. It 
 would, indeed, be advisable that she should remain 
 abroad, rather than expose herself to the possibility of 
 being recognised in England; but that I fear, without her 
 aid, there would be little chance of your satisfactorily 
 establishing her prior marriage, and consequently your 
 legitimacy, which undoubtedly is of the utmost conse- 
 quence to you.” 
 
 ^ “It is everything to me,” returned Denzll; “yet I 
 would renounce at once the idea, if I thought for a mo- 
 ment that I should expose to any danger her whose hap- 
 piness and welfare is, and ought to be, my principal — in 
 fact, my only care. The circumstances, however, of your 
 recognition, or rather of your suspicion, my dear sir, are 
 so singular, that it is scarcely possible they could occur 
 again ; and, indeed, I am convinced that to oppose my 
 mother’s intention of going to England now, would be not 
 only useless, but would perhaps induce her to act pre- 
 cisely in the manner that would expose her to the chance 
 of discovery.” 
 
 “ I wish that I could, with any consistency, now relin- 
 quish my Intended journey to Italy,” observed Mr. Dor- 
 mer. “ I feel so strongly interested in this affair, that I 
 would sacrifice almost any consideration to be able to 
 witness its progress, and assist, as far as my feeble advice 
 and means could assist, in its adjustment.” 
 
 “ I should, indeed, feel happy and favoured,” observed 
 Denzil, “ for I shall have need of advice — and unfortu- 
 nately the friend, to whom I should once have looked, and 
 have relied on, will no longer condescend to be my coun- 
 sellor ” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 593 
 
 “ If you mean Mr. Levison, I fear you are right,” re- 
 turned Mr. Dormer, ‘‘ for I found him greatly incensed 
 against you, though I never entered fully into the sub- 
 ject; for I candidly confess, Denzil, that I was so wholly 
 engrossed with endeavouring to bring about the affair be- 
 tween him and his nephew, and Emma, that I lost sight 
 of you altogether ; but this I know, that when you were 
 accidentally named, it never failed to elicit from him some 
 expression of resentment towards you,- and I was ex- 
 pressly forbidden by him to name you to Fanny or Miss 
 Rachel.” 
 
 A flush of deep resentment dyed Denzifs cheek, at 
 hearing this. 
 
 “ I have not deserved it,” he observed, “ and Mr. 
 Levison has acted with cruelty and injustice, in thus 
 condemning me unheard, and upon imaginary proofs, 
 which I am certain I could have confuted, had I been 
 allowed the opportunity of doing so ; but it matters little 
 now,” he added, with a sigh, ‘‘ the die is cast, and ” 
 
 “ But, to dismiss this vexatious subject at once, and to 
 return to that which offers you a much fairer prospect,” 
 interrupted Mr. Dormer. “ It has occurred to me that 
 it is folly in me to persevere in this journey to Italy, 
 when I see plainly I could effect much more real good 
 by giving it up; for, in the first place, Emma could return 
 with me and Rosa to England, and I should then be on 
 the spot to protect her, should she need it. And, in the 
 second place, I think my experience and knowledge of 
 the world would be of material benefit to you ; and a 
 third reason is, that I may be able, perhaps, to expedite 
 an arrangement with Mr. Levison, to free Charles from 
 his bonds,” 
 
594 
 
 If IE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ And If that were all,” replied Denzil, “ it would be 
 an object worthy of Mr. Dormer ; and, leaving my own 
 selfish views out of the question, I would certainly urge 
 you, my dear sir, to follow the generous impulse of your 
 heart, and return at once to England.” 
 
 ‘‘ It is decided !” observed Mr. Dormer, after a few 
 moments’ silence, “ and I will at once countermand my 
 orders. To-morrow morning, then, I shall be on the 
 road to Calais — I can easily satisfy the two girls as to my 
 motives for thus altering my plans, and you can follow 
 us, as soon as you think proper.” 
 
 Denzil gladly acceded to this arrangement, which at 
 once removed a load of care and anxiety from his mind ; 
 and Mr. Dormer left him to announce to Mrs. Levison 
 and Miss Somerville, who had not yet retired for the 
 night, the alteration which he had made in their destined 
 journey. 
 
 On his return, his countenance bore an expression of 
 seriousness and dissatisfaction, which so strongly con- 
 trasted with the alacrity and cheerfulness with which he 
 had left him, that Denzil could not refrain from asking 
 him, if anything unpleasant had happened. 
 
 “ Nothing,” he replied, “ but what I ought to have 
 foreseen — that women are all fools, and born to torment 
 all who are connected with them.” 
 
 Denzil could not help smiling at the vehemence with 
 which this was uttered. 
 
 “ You have no reason, I should hope, sir, to say so,” 
 he observed. 
 
 “ Indeed I have,” he replied, ‘‘ for Rosa has vexed me 
 more than I could have believed, by her foolery. She 
 took it in her wise head that she was concerned in this 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 595 
 
 alteration , and her fears and surmises that her dignity 
 and delicacy, forsooth, had been compromised, gave rise 
 to a pretty tragical burst of tears, which I was compelled 
 to stop by the mortifying assurance that neither you nor I 
 had, for the last three or four hours, recollected that such 
 a person as her little insignificant self was in existence ; 
 but this, instead of satisfying her, only increased her 
 tears, and I was obliged to leave her to settle it how she 
 could with her cousin, who, though less dissatisfied, 
 seemed not less surprised than herself at my sudden 
 change of plan, and my refusal to account for it.” 
 
 Denzil felt hurt at the idea that Rosa's feelings should 
 have been thus wounded — but the sight of Fanny’s letter, 
 the ideas and recollections that it had recalled to his mind, 
 had renewed, with additional force, his repugnance to 
 form an alliance with another ; and he felt, at that mo- 
 ment, as if the interruption of the purpose which he had 
 for a moment indulged, of offering his hand to Miss Somer- 
 ville, and which the sudden entrance of Mrs. Levison 
 had alone prevented, had saved him from certain misery 
 and never-ending repentance. 
 
 Late as was the hour at which Mr. Dormer and he 
 parted, Denzil could not go to rest, without again visiting 
 his mother, whom, however, he found much more calm 
 and recovered than he had expected, though she heard, 
 with evident uneasiness and surprise, that Mr. Dormer 
 had relinquished his intention of placing his niece under 
 her care. 
 
 It required, indeed, all Denzil’s rhetoric to convince 
 her that this sudden alteration had not arisen from his 
 having suspected her identity, and considered her un- 
 worthy of the charge; but at length he succeeded in 
 
596 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 tranquillising her, and in gaming her consent to see Mr. 
 Dormer again in the morning, before his departure, which 
 the latter had most particularly expressed his wish 
 to do. 
 
 The impression which the beauty and misfortunes of 
 this interesting woman had made on the mind of Mr. 
 Dormer, was not weakened by the second interview, 
 during which, however, he carefully avoided any allusion 
 to the circumstances of her sad history; and when he 
 took his leave of her, it was with the oft-repeated hope 
 that they should speedily meet in England, under more 
 propitious circumstances than the present. 
 
 DenziFs avowed intention of following them in a few 
 days, took from their parting all formality — yet Rosass 
 countenance, in spite of her efforts to appear gay, betrayed 
 considerable gloom and melancholy; and Denzil’s usual 
 ease and frankness were changed for embarrassment and 
 constraint, from the consciousness that he was the object 
 of her continual observation, and that she seemed at a 
 loss what interpretation to put on his conduct. 
 
 It was therefore a considerable relief to him when he 
 beheld them depart, and he returned to share with his 
 mother the hopes which Mr. Dormer had so confidently 
 suggested, during their final conversation, that all their 
 present uncertainties and doubts would have a happy and 
 successful termination. 
 
 The favourable appearance which Mrs. Montgomery’s 
 health had for some weeks assumed, continued so unal- 
 tered, that, in little more than a week after Mr. Dor- 
 mer’s departure, Denzil yielded to her solicitations that 
 they should commence their journey, and in less than 
 another week the mother and her son entered that me- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 597 
 
 tropolis which they had last quitted under such different 
 circumstances. 
 
 Anxious to secure his mother a few days* repose, with- 
 out the chance of being* exposed to any ag'itating circum- 
 stances, Denzil immediately procured apartments for her 
 at Brompton ; and then, without delay, proceeded to the 
 hotel to which Mr. Dormer had directed him. 
 
 On sending up his name, he was immediately shewn 
 into a drawing-room, where, however, to his disappoint- 
 ment, he found only Miss Somerville, whose welcome 
 of him, though kind and frank, seemed restrained by a 
 timidity and embarrassment which had the corresponding 
 effect of rendering Denzil somewhat confused and em- 
 barrassed. 
 
 He had scarcely, however, answered her inquiries as to 
 his journey, and the state of his mother’s health, before 
 Mr. Dormer made his appearance. 
 
 “ I am glad you are come, my dear boy,” he observed; 
 
 for I am wretchedly dull and low-spirited, and I can find 
 nobody that will take the trouble to be a little amusing.” 
 
 I am sadly afraid you will be disappointed, if you ex- 
 pect me to be so, sir,” returned Denzil, smiling. 
 
 “ Oh, no — do not suppose I over-rate your merit so 
 much,” replied Mr. Dormer ; “but, at any rate, your 
 arrival will afford some new source of thought, if not of 
 active employment, and that is worth a Jew’s eye to one 
 who is heartily tired of himself and all about him — as I 
 am at present.” 
 
 “ Thank you, uncle, for that kind compliment,” ob- 
 served Rosa, with somewhat of petulance. 
 
 “ Well, well, my dear, I know I am somewhat un- 
 grateful in saying so — for I believe you do your best to 
 
598 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 cheer me,” returned Mr. Dormer; “ but the truth is, 
 Denzi I, I have found myself so thwarted and disappointed, 
 in all my views and hopes, that I have been ready to 
 hang nyself from vexation.” 
 
 Dfnzil expressed his sorrow, and Mr. Dormer pro- 
 ceeded to inform him that he had, immediately on his 
 arrira^ in London, visited Charles Levison, who was con- 
 fined in the King’s Bench. 
 
 I found him,” he continued, apparently very con- 
 tented, and seemingly quite reconciled to his situation; 
 but I was far from being satisfied that this arose from a 
 proper feeling; and I was still more convinced of this, 
 from the manner in which he received the intelligence of 
 Emma’s arrival, and her determination to visit him. 
 
 “ Far from appearing pleased at the thought of seeing 
 her, he protested strongly against her coming to such a 
 place, and declared that he should be wretched if she per- 
 sisted in coming. 
 
 “ I did not, I acknowledge, even at the time, give him 
 credit for so much feeling as he pretended to, on her 
 account; and I had a strong suspicion that some other 
 motive was at the bottom of it. This suspicion was soon 
 confirmed — for, at the very moment I was leaving him, 
 a lady, whose appearance fully corresponded with the 
 description I had heard of Miss Delaney, entered his 
 room with a confidence and self-possession that shewed it 
 was not the first time she had been there. 
 
 “ Charles hung his head, and looked, as you may sup- 
 pose, completely abashed, while I inwardly determined 
 to put an end at once to her visits. I therefore affected 
 not to know who she was, and observed to Charles that, 
 of course, I supposed the lady was a friend of Mrs. Levi- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 599 
 
 son’s, though he had not thought proper to introd iice iue 
 to her, and that she would undoubtedly be happy to li ‘iir 
 that Mrs. Levison was returned to England, and would 
 be at the prison in a few minutes. 
 
 ‘‘ Bold and daring as the lady had looked, a t aoment 
 before, her confidence seemed at once to forsake I er, a d 
 she burst into tears. Charles appeared as if he ki lew not 
 what to say or do; and I, without taking any notice of 
 her tears, arose, observing that Mrs. Levison would tliink 
 every moment an age, till I should return. You may 
 guess, although I put on this indifferent air, that I was 
 puzzled how to act; for to have brought Emma there, 
 under such circumstances, would have been madness; 
 and how to return to her I knew not, with such a tale. 
 I had not, however, got outside the gates of the prison, 
 before the lady whom I had left with Charles pasMed me, 
 with fury in her looks, and, anxious to learn wliat had 
 occurred, I turned back. 
 
 “ I found Charles pacing the room in great agitation — 
 he started, when he saAv me re-enter the room. 
 
 ‘“You need not reproach me, sir,’ he observed, hastily; 
 ‘ I am quite punished enough. Do not suppose that 
 that woman visited me here by my desire. She is my 
 pest — my torment, and I never wish to see her again !’ 
 
 “ I soon learned that the cause of all this was, that 
 Miss Delaney had been led to believe that Chailes was 
 only suffering from temporary embarrassment; atid that, 
 as soon as his friends knew of it, he would not only 
 released, but would have plenty of money at bis com- 
 mand. My observation, however, had at once led her 
 to suspect the truth of the matter, and she had loadiid 
 him with reproaches for having, as she said, deceived and 
 
600 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 deluded her into leaving France ; and had left him with 
 a threat that she would be revenged upon him. 
 
 “ What could I do,” continued Mr. Dormer, “ but 
 listen to his promises and expressions of contrition — and 
 agree to conceal from Emma all that had passed ? I did 
 so, and conducted her to him ; he received her with ap- 
 parent kindness — but I could plainly see that he regarded 
 her more as being likely to serve him by getting his uncle 
 to pay his debts, than from any other motive.” 
 
 And where is Mrs. Levison ?” inquired Denzil. 
 
 ‘‘ She remains still with him,” returned Mr. Dormer. 
 “ The little romantic fool thinks it a merit, to bear the 
 miseries of confinement with her husband, and refuses to 
 leave him ; but I fear she will have a long time to stay, 
 if she remains there till he gets out ; for Mr. Levison is 
 so enraged ag'ainst him, that I have never yet been able 
 to prevail on him to listen to me, Avhen I have tried to 
 bring them to some arrangement. I am just going to 
 pay my usual morning visit to the King’s -Bench,” he 
 continued ; ‘‘ will you accompany me? Emma, I know, 
 will be happy to see you.” 
 
 Denzil assented, and they proceeded there together. 
 
 It was the first time Denzil had entered the gates of 
 a prison, and his heart sank witli melancholy anticipation 
 of the gloom and horror which he expected to find 
 within. 
 
 To his great surprise, however, a far different scene 
 met his view. All appeared to be engaged, either in 
 business or diversion; and Charles himself, instead of 
 being found, as Denzil expected, sitting gloomy, inactive, 
 and dispirited, was so deeply and intensely engaged in a 
 game at tennis, that he could not for some minutes, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEPt. 
 
 GOl 
 
 though he saw Denzil and Mr. Dormer waiting for him, 
 approach to welcome the former to England. 
 
 “ W ell, have you brought me any good news ?” he 
 demanded, as he accompanied -them to his own room, 
 where, however, Denzil found his visions of melancholy 
 abundantly verified in die person of Emma, who looked 
 the personification of despair. He could not, indeed, feel 
 much surprised at this, when he beheld her, who had 
 within a few months been surrounded by every luxury, 
 and indulged in every extravagant whim that folly and 
 thoughtlessness could suggest, now confined to a small 
 and inconvenient apartment, and left for hours to brood 
 alone over the past, and contrast it with the present. 
 
 At sight of Denzil, however, her face cleared up, and 
 she hastened with a smile to congratulate him upon his 
 safe arrival, and to incpure how his mother had borne the 
 journey. 
 
 ‘‘ I have a strange secret to tell you,” she observed, 
 in a low voice, while her uncle and Charles were engaged 
 in conversation, ‘‘ a secret concerning yourself — but I 
 know not how to see you alone.” 
 
 “ Cannot you write ?” returned Denzil, very much 
 surprised and agitated. 
 
 She nodded assent, and then added, in a loud tone, 
 
 And where is Mrs. Montgomery residing now ?” 
 
 Denzil mentioned the place, and Emma, who had 
 evidently asked for the purpose of getting his address, 
 then turned to her uncle, and joined in the general con- 
 versation. 
 
 On their way home, Mr. Dormer, for the first time 
 since they had met, spoke of Denzil’s present affairs. 
 
 “ I have not forgotten, my dear boy, nor lost sight of 
 
 4 H 
 
602 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 your interest,” he observed ; “ but, I arn sorry to say, 
 on the main point, I have been in the outset disappointed ; 
 for all the incpiiries I have made, have not been able to 
 ascertain more than that Lord Alberton, your father, has 
 again quitted England; his last residence appears to have 
 been the Clarenduii Hotel ; but from thence he departed, 
 some months ago, for a tour on the Continent.” 
 
 Denzil felt that this was, indeed, a grievous disappoint- 
 ment — but his thoughts were soon taken off from it ; for, 
 the moment after, Mr. Dormer exclaimed— 
 
 ‘‘ There are some friends of ours, just gone into that 
 shop, Denzil ; did you see them ?” 
 
 Denzil put his head out of the carriage-window, just 
 time enough to see Fanny Levison and her aunt leaning 
 on the arms of a fine-looking tall man, whom he imme- 
 diately guessed was the intended bridegroom. 
 
 Pale and breathless, he sank back into the corner of 
 the chariot, without uttering a word. The sight seemed 
 to have obliterated the last remaining hope which had 
 still lingered in his heart. 
 
 Mr. Dormer regarded him with surprise and evident 
 alarm. 
 
 My dear friend,” he observed, for heaven’s sake, 
 rouse yourself, and conquer this emotion ! I wish 1 had 
 said nothing about them — but I did not suspect you would 
 feel so acutely, what you must have long been prepared 
 for.” 
 
 ‘Ht is all for the best !” replied Denzil, in a melancholy 
 tone ; but the surprise, at this moment, was so great 
 
 that but how well and happy she looks ! She was 
 
 smiling — smiling in his face — she thought not of the 
 wretched heart-broken but I am ashamed of this 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 608 
 
 weakness — I will not think of her ! Oh, no, I will for- 
 get her, or rememher her only as the wife of another.” 
 
 “ She is not yet married,” observed Mr. Dormer, with 
 emphasis, ‘‘ nor do I agree with you that she looked well 
 or happy — happy, I am sure, she is not.” 
 
 Denzil looked earnestly at him, but remained silent. 
 
 “ Yes, I repeat it,” said Mr. Dormer, I am well con- 
 vinced that Fanny is not happy, and that she would give 
 worlds to be released from her present engagement. Yet 
 she would not suffer me to speak to her of you — her only 
 wish, she said, with tears standing in her eyes, was to 
 forget that such a person was in existence.” 
 
 “ There has been some treachery, some cruel treachery 
 practised between us,” exclaimed Denzil; how else 
 could she ever have been led to form such a wish? but 
 it is too late for me now to think of it — I can only reite- 
 rate her wish, and pray that I may forget her !” 
 
 The intelligence he had to communicate to his mother, 
 of Lord Alberton’s absence from England, and the un- 
 certainty whither he was gone, sufficiently accounted to 
 her for the depression under which he laboured, when he 
 returned home; and he therefore refrained from mention- 
 ing to her that he had even seen Fanny, lest he should 
 betray to her the real cause of his agitation. 
 
 On the following morning, he received a letter from 
 Mrs. Charles Levison: — 
 
 “ Dear Denzil, I could not rest,” she observed, “until 1 
 had sat down to communicate to you a strange discovery 
 I have made. You may he sure my first visit, as soon as 
 I arrived in London, was to the Levisons, for my uncle 
 would not let me accompany him to this place, until he 
 
604 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTllLU. 
 
 had first seen Charles, and ascertained how he was 
 situated; and so, while he went to the King’s Bench, I 
 went to St. James’s Place, where I found Fanny and aunt 
 Rachel, luckily, by themselves; they were both very 
 glad to see me, but very angry that I should think of 
 going to the prison to Charles, who, they said, did not 
 deserve that I should care about him ; and then they be- 
 gan to talk of this Miss Delaney, or whatever her name 
 is; but that which surprised me was, that Fanny told me 
 she was convinced that the woman she had seen in the 
 box at the theatre with Charles, was the individual per- 
 son who came to her at Paris, and represented you as 
 having seduced and ruined her. I have not time to tell 
 you half the abominable tale she told, at that time, to 
 Fanny and Miss Rachel, and afterwards repeated, it 
 seems, to Mr. Levison himself — but this I know, that 
 she made you appear in the blackest colours, and Fanny, 
 till I explained it all, and convinced her, actually believed 
 that your mother, Mrs. Montgomery, was a woman of 
 bad character, to whom you were entirely devoted. 
 
 “ Miss Rachel had been so impressed with the story 
 told her by Miss Delaney, that she would not be con- 
 vinced that the companion of Charles at the theatre, and 
 the modest, penitent, young damsel who had excited so 
 much pity and compassion in her bosom at Paris, were 
 the same; and Fanny and her aunt had so warmly dis- 
 cussed the subject, that, by mutual consent, it was agreed 
 it should be dropped entirely. The moment, however, 
 Fanny told me the story, which was as soon as her aunt 
 was gone out of the room, I determined, even at the 
 risk of displeasing Miss Rachel, to do all in my power to 
 vindicate you; and, accordingly, as soon as the old lady 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 6or» 
 
 returned, I commenced by speaking of — (\Yhich was, 
 indeed, no more than justice) — your kindness and atten- 
 tion to me while I was in France, and the obligations I 
 was under to you, for your conduct towards Charles. 
 I could perceive that poor Miss Rachel sat upon thorns 
 — her natural goodness of heart would not allow her to 
 depreciate your merit; yet she feared, I saw, the effect 
 my praises of you would have upon Fanny — I went on, 
 however, without seeming to notice her fidgets and 
 interruptions, and spoke of your devoted attention to 
 your mother, and then Fanny began to appear interested, 
 though she had before affected to be quite indifferent. 
 
 ‘“You little thought, I dare say,’ I observed, ‘that 
 every moment that could be spared from his attendance 
 on you, when you were in Paris, was devoted to comfort 
 a sick and suffering mother ?’ 
 
 “ Aunt Rachel stared at me for some moments with- 
 out speaking — 
 
 “ ‘ Do you know Denzil’s mother, my dear ?’ she at 
 last observed; ‘and who she was? Have you ever seen 
 her ? What proof have you that the person you speak of 
 was his mother ?’ i 
 
 “ ‘ What reason could I have for doubting it, ma’am?' 
 I replied. ‘ As to who she was, I know nothing — I 
 never asked any questions — but I believe my uncle can 
 tell you all about it, for he has seen her, and is greatly 
 interested for her — indeed, he could talk of nothing but 
 her beauty, and the grace and elegance of her figure, for 
 three or four days after he visited her.’ 
 
 “ Miss Rachel shook her head, and sighed — ‘ Beauty 
 without discretion is a fatal gift, my dear,’ she 
 observed, ... . 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ()06 
 
 1 could not, of course, contradict this, especially as I 
 know good Miss Rachel intended it as a monitory hint 
 for your humble servant. 
 
 “ Fanny, who had sat all this time as if petrified with 
 astonishment, now burst into tears. 
 
 “ ‘ Thank G(>d !’ she exclaimed, * then, after all, he 
 is, as I have all along in my heart believed him, guiltless 
 of deceit and treachery ! Have I not always said, aunt, 
 that the truth would one day or other come to light ? 
 Oh, I am so happy, so very very happy !’ 
 
 “ Poor Fanny, happy as she was, or professed herself 
 to feel, I could, however, see that her happiness came too 
 late, and she continued to weep until the entrance of her 
 father and Earl Raeburn compelled her to retreat to her 
 own room, whither I accompanied her. 
 
 ‘‘ I dare not betray confidence so far as to tell you, 
 Denzil, all that passed between us — but my friendship, 
 both for you and her, induces me to say that I think you 
 would act very wrong, if you suffer any motive to pre- 
 vent your seeing Mr. Levison, and vindicating yourself 
 from the aspersions that have been cast upon you. I do 
 not say that there is any certainty that it would make any 
 material alteration in Mr. Levison’s present views — for 
 I am afraid that nothing short of a miracle would induce 
 him to yield his hopes of seeing her the wife of Earl 
 Raeburn ; but, for your own credit, and for Fanny’s 
 satisfaction, I think every thing ought to be cleared up 
 between you. 
 
 “ I have written to you with a great deal of freedom, 
 dear Montgomery, but I know you will attribute my 
 having done so, not to any impertinent wish of dictating 
 to you, but to the real cause — my sincere wish to see 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 60'V 
 
 you and Fanny happier than you now are, and as happy 
 as you desire to be. 
 
 “ Your friend, 
 
 “ Emma Levison.” 
 
 Denzil read this letter with astonishment. What 
 could Julia have alleged against him, that could have so 
 embittered both Mr. Levison and Rachel ; she, who was 
 always so warmly his friend ? His first impulse was to 
 go immediately to Mr. Levison, to demand justice from 
 him, and an explanation of the false charges and misrepre- 
 sentations which had blighted all his hopes of happiness ; 
 but again he read Mrs. Charles Levison’s letter, and the 
 decided conviction she expressed, that nothing would 
 prevail on Mr. Levison to forego his intention of uniting 
 Fanny to Earl Raeburn, seemed to render valueless the 
 vindication he would have sought. 
 
 “ How could I endure,” he exclaimed, “to be received 
 by them on the cold footing of a friend — to behold another 
 in possession of that happiness, which I fondly thought 
 would be mine ? Oh no, better is it that I should remain 
 excluded from their society — forgotten and disregarded !” 
 
 With all the fickleness and inconsistency which his 
 despair induced, in a few minutes he again altered his 
 determination — he would write to Fanny herself, he 
 would demand from her whether she would sacrifice her- 
 self and him to a false sense of duty. Her father, if he 
 refused to do him justice, could have no right to compel 
 her to misery and despair ; and that she was miserable, 
 at the prospect of being united to Earl Raeburn, every 
 line of Emma’s letter proved to him beyond a doubt. 
 
 A sleepless night was passed in doubt and irresolution 
 
608 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 by the unhappy Montgomery ; but at length he deter- 
 mined to see Mrs. Charles Levison, and advise with her 
 whether he should write to Fanny. 
 
 Before his mother and himself had finished breakfast, 
 Mr. Dormer was announced. He pleaded his anxiety 
 to see Mrs. Montgomery, and congratulate her on her 
 safe arrival in England, as his motive for so early a visit ; 
 but Montgomery read in his countenance that something 
 more than usual had occurred, and he was soon confirmed 
 in this conjecture. 
 
 ‘‘ I was surprised,” he observed, after the first compli- 
 ments had passed, and Mrs. Montgomery had got over 
 the tremor wliicli his appearance had at first occasioned, 
 though his friendly and respectful manner towards her 
 was calculated to put an end to all fear or embarrass- 
 ment on her part — I was surprised at receiving a visit 
 from an old friend of yours and mine, after you and I had 
 parted yesterday.” 
 
 Montgomery readily comprehended that the old friend 
 was Mr. Levison; but he did not mention the name, 
 lest it should agitate his mother. He took the first op- 
 portunity, however, of leading Mr. Dormer into the 
 next room, under the pretext of shewing him some 
 articles he had brought from Paris, and there learned 
 that he was right in his supposition. 
 
 “ I could not think what had brought him so unexpect- 
 edly,” continued Mr. Dormer, “ but he soon let me into 
 the secret, by asking me if it was true that you were in 
 London. I replied, of course, in the affirmative, adding — 
 
 ‘ If you had come a little sooner, you might have 
 seen him — for he has just left me.’ 
 
 ‘ I do not want to see him,’ he replied, with a deep 
 
THf: GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 609 
 
 sigh, ‘ at least not just now, though I am very sorry to 
 hear that he is here, without my being able to ask him to 
 my house.’ 
 
 ‘ And why should you be unable ?’ I demanded. ‘ I 
 am sure Denzil has done nothing that deserves banish- 
 ment from your house.’ 
 
 “ ‘ 1 begin to think so myself,’ he replied, ‘ but it is 
 no use my beating about the bush with you, Dormer, and 
 so I will come at once to the plain case. The truth 
 is, that I am alarmed lest the arrival of this boy, just at 
 this time, should defeat that which I have set my heart 
 upon effecting. I will tell you, candidly, that I had once 
 made up my mind to consent to Montgomery’s marrying 
 Fanny — but in doing so, I sacrificed all my own feelings 
 and prejudices; for, though I have always regarded him 
 with the strongest affection, there were circumstances, 
 independent of his possessing no fortune, that rendered 
 him the last person in the world whom I should have 
 chosen for my daughter — -not but the lad is fully worthy 
 of her, or any woman, for I do not believe there is his 
 superior on the face of the earth.’ 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ I am glad to hear you acknowledge that,’ I ob- 
 served, ‘ and now, to save you any further explanation, I 
 will tell you, at once, that I am fully acquainted with the 
 circumstances of his birth, to which of course you allude, 
 as the obstacle to your free consent. ’ 
 
 “ ‘ I do mean that,’ returned Mr. Levison, ‘but, as I said 
 before, I had once determined, in order to restore Fanny 
 to healtVi and happiness, to overlook all obstacles, and 
 unite them to each other. I went over to France with 
 that view — but circumstances arose, misrepresentations 
 were made — I believed him unworthy — and my purposes 
 
 4 I 
 
610 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 were changed. You know what has since occurred — 
 Fanny is now on the point of marriage with a man every 
 way deserving of her — one who possesses birth, title, 
 fortune — and, in addition, the noblest heart and most cor- 
 rect principles * 
 
 “ ‘ Well,’ I observed, seeing that he paused, ‘and what 
 does all this tend to ? I knew all this before.’ 
 
 ‘ I will tell you, at once then,’ he replied ; ‘your niece 
 Emma, Mrs. Charles Levison, has been, it seems, busying 
 herself in Montgomery’s cause — I don’t mean to say that 
 all she has told Fanny is not perfectly true and correct — 
 but it never could have come more mal-apropos. It has re- 
 vived all Fanny’s romantic and nonsensical attachment to 
 Denzil — and only this morning she went so far as to tell 
 me, if he were to come and claim the fulfilment of the 
 promises she formerly made him, she should feel herself 
 justified in giving him her hand, although her marriage 
 with Earl Raeburn is so nearly concluded, that next 
 Thursday is fixed for the ceremony; and at the same 
 time she hinted that Montgomery had already arrived in 
 London.’ 
 
 “ ‘ Well,’ I observed, ‘and what do you mean to do?’ 
 
 “ ‘ Dormer,’ he replied, ‘you have known me for many 
 years — and you never knew me to depart from my word. 
 I have sworn — solemnly sworn to her, and I repeat it to 
 you — yes, by my hopes of salvation, I swear — that, if she 
 refuses to marry according to my wish, I will never again 
 acknowledge her as my child ! What I have done for 
 Montgomery, I cannot retract — I would not wish to do 
 it — but, if she marries him, she shall never have a shilling 
 of my fortune; I would sooner leave it all to Charles, to 
 make ducks and drakes with, as I know be would, but 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 611 
 
 she shall never have it. And yet I have that opinion of 
 Denzil, that I can scarcely believe he would act in oppo- 
 sition to my will — but I have come now to you, as a 
 friend, to ask you if you think that he has any intention, 
 any plans in view, to oppose me ?’ 
 
 “ I replied, that I could answer for you that you had 
 not,” continued Mr. Dormer; “nay, I went farther — for 
 I told him that I did not believe, were it possible for 
 Fanny herself to offer to become your wife against his 
 will, that you would accept the offer.” 
 
 “ You did me justice, Sir,” said Montgomery, raising 
 his eyes, for the first time — for he had covered tliem with 
 his hand, as he listened, with breathless attention, to this 
 long and agitating detail. “ Yes,” he continued, with 
 animation, “Mr. Levison shall find that he is not deceived 
 in his estimation of me ! He shall find that my gratitude to 
 him is superior even to my love for his daughter; and Fanny 
 shall never hear of the wretched Montgomery, until — ” 
 he paused, as if unable to name the period, and then 
 added, “until she has fulfilled her father’s wishes — and 
 then I may proudly present myself to my benefactor as 
 having, in some measure, repaid him, by the sacrifice of 
 that which is far far more valuable to me than my life.” 
 
 Mr. Dormer pressed his hand without speaking, and 
 Denzil, after a few minutes’ silence, during which he 
 seemed struggling to attain the appearance of composure, 
 said, in a low tone — 
 
 “ Let us return to the other room, my dear Sir, or my 
 mother will suspect there is something extraordinary in 
 our absence.” 
 
 Mrs. Montgomery’s eyes sought in her son’s counte- 
 nance some explanation of the cause that had given rise 
 
012 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 to the long conversation which had detained them; but 
 Denzll avoided her looks, and Mr. Dormer soon contri- 
 ved to draw her into conversation, and prevent her 
 paying too accurate attention to the former, who with 
 difficulty concealed his agitation. 
 
 On the departure of Mr. Dormer, the questions which 
 she had been longing to put, could no longer be res- 
 trained, nor could Montgomery attempt to elude them. 
 
 “ I will tell you at once, dear mother,” he replied, 
 “Fanny is to be married on Thursday next.” 
 
 “ My dear boy, and does that alone make you look so 
 wretched?” she observed. 
 
 “ I cannot enter upon the subject,” he hastily replied ; 
 “ but I will solemnly assure you, that was the only infor- 
 mation Mr. Dormer had to give me, and was the only 
 tlieme of oiir conversation.” 
 
 “ Heaven bless her, and grant that she may be happy !” 
 uttered Mrs. Montgomery, clasping her hands with 
 fervent emotion. 
 
 “ Amen ! amen !” ejaculated her son, in a solemn tone ; 
 and then, overcome with the thoughts and feelings that 
 rushed upon his mind, he caught up his hat, and, hastily 
 observing that he should be back in a few minutes, ran 
 out of the house. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 613 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Think not tiiat I would look on them, and live 1 
 A spirit forces me to see and speak, 
 
 And for my guerdon grants not to survive. 
 
 My heart shall be pour’d over thee and break 1 — Byroiv. 
 
 The days that intervened between the period of Mr. 
 Dormer’s communication to him, and that fixed for 
 Fanny’s marriage, were passed by Denzil in a state of 
 delirium. Every hour seemed to increase his wretched- 
 ness, and it was only in the presence of his mother, and 
 from his regard to her feelings, that he could control the 
 expression of his despair. 
 
 From Mr. Dormer, who was a regular visitor every 
 day, he learned that the marriage ceremony was to be 
 solemnized in St. James’ Church, and that the bride and 
 bridegroom were to depart immediately for Cumberland, 
 where Mr. Levison was, in a few weeks, to join them. 
 
 Fanny, Mr. Dormer said, had resigned all her opposi- 
 tion to her father’s wishes; and Mr. Levison Avas so 
 rejoiced at the near termination of all his fears and anxie- 
 ties, that he, at Earl Raeburn’s persuasion, had given a 
 carte hlaiiche to Mr. Dormer to settle Charles’s affairs, 
 and enable him and his wife to join in the nuptial festi- 
 vities. 
 
 Charles was therefore released from his confinement, 
 and had, for the present, taken up his residence with Mr. 
 Dormer and Miss Somerville. 
 
614 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Once only Montgomery ventured to enquire of Mr. 
 Dormer if Fanny seemed contented and happy. 
 
 “ I have never seen her myself, for the last ten days, 
 when I have called,” replied Mr. Dormer; “hut I learn 
 from Rosa, who is to officiate as one of her bridemaids, 
 that she appears in high spirits; though, Rosa says, she 
 sometimes thinks they are rather feigned than real, and that 
 her looks often contradict her words and manners.” 
 
 “ I will see her once more,” thought Denzil, “ and 
 that, 1 hope, will be the last time !” 
 
 In pursuance of this resolution, on the evening prece- 
 ding the important day, he informed his mother that he 
 was going out eafly on the following morning, and should 
 probably not return till late in the evening, and therefore 
 requested she would not wait dinner for him. 
 
 Mrs. Montgomery’s eyes expressed considerable sur- 
 prise and curiosity at this announcement — but Denzil 
 continued to maintain his assumed calmness, and he bade 
 her good-night with a degree of cheerfulness in his 
 manner, which completely lulled all suspicion that he 
 purposed any thing extraordinary in this unusual absence. 
 
 Montgomery, in reality, had no fixed purpose for the 
 following day, except that of once more beholding the 
 object of his ardent passion, and of being convinced, by 
 ocular demonstration, that she had indeed renounced him 
 for ever ; and when he spoke of his absence till the even- 
 ing, it was only to obviate his mother’s uneasiness, and 
 prevent her suspecting what was really his object in 
 leaving the house before her usual breakfast hour. 
 
 From Mr. Dormer he had learned that the bridal party 
 were to be at St. James’s, precisely at ten o’clock ; and, 
 nearly an hour before, by means of a bribe to the pew- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 615 
 
 opener, he obtained admission, and took his station where 
 he could have a full view of the parties entering the 
 church, without being himself seen. For some time he 
 remained alone — but the silence and solemnity of the place, 
 far from Iranquillising, served to increase the intenseness 
 of his emotions. Every minute seemed lengthened to an 
 hour, and he could scarcely believe that his watch had not 
 stopped its motion, when he from time to time applied to 
 it, to see whether the moment he so dreaded, yet longed 
 for, was near. 
 
 It wanted now but five minutes — a door opened, and 
 several well-dressed persons, whom he conjectured were 
 actuated by curiosity only, were admitted, and took their 
 seats in different parts of the church. 
 
 Montgomery turned impatiently from them — it seemed 
 to him profanation, that the eyes of strangers should gaze 
 upon a ceremony to him so awful and important. 
 
 Again the church-door opened, he heard a slight buz, 
 which informed him they were at hand ; and in another 
 moment he beheld Fanny — her cheeks vying in whiteness 
 with the veil which was thrown over her head, and her 
 unsteady steps supported by one who, though he walked 
 with firmness and self-possession, looked scarcely less agi- 
 tated than his companion. 
 
 A film seemed for a moment to come over Denzil’s 
 eyes, and he sank down on the seat of the pew, without 
 power to breathe, while the loud throbbing of his heart 
 increased to the most intense agony. 
 
 When he again raised his eyes, they stood at the altar. 
 The clergyman had opened his book, but at that moment 
 a shriek of the most heart-rending anguish echoed through 
 the vaulted roof, and a female darted towards them, ex- 
 claiming — 
 
616 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ‘‘My husband — Oh, God, my husband Mont- 
 gomery’s senses seemed to reel. Could he trust the 
 evidence of his eyes — it was his mother ! In another mo- 
 ment he was at her side, attempting to raise her from the 
 ground, on which she had fallen at the feet of Earl Rae- 
 burn, who, pale and motionless, gazed on her, exclaiming 
 — “ Elinor ! Can it be? Has she risen from the grave !” 
 
 “ My dear mother ! speak to me !” exclaimed Mont- 
 g.imery, regardless of all but the death-like countenance 
 of her whom he now supported in his arms, while he 
 frantically called upon all around for assistance, to save 
 his beloved mother. 
 
 “ She has fainted ! Oh, Denzil be composed — she will 
 recover !” exclaimed Fanny’s trembling voice, as she 
 knelt beside him, and administered the volatiles which she 
 held in her hand. 
 
 The surprise and consternation which had at first 
 paralyzed all present, now yielded to the earnest desire to 
 render every assistance to the unfortunate Elinor, and her 
 scarcely less agitated husband. 
 
 “ You had better retire, my lord,” observed Mr. Dor- 
 mer, who retained more presence of mind than any of the 
 party ; “ retire with Mr. Levison ; and, as soon as Mrs. 
 Montgomery is sufficiently recovered, I will ” 
 
 “ Mrs. Montgomery?” repeated the Earl with wild- 
 ness — “ Is she called by that name ? And who, then, is 
 that young man? Tell me but that, and I will submit to 
 whatever you propose !” 
 
 “ That young man, my lord, is her son — and, I think 
 I may add, yours ! But all will be explained — suffer 
 yourself to be persuaded.” 
 
 “ I will — I will — Great God, how mysterious are thy 
 ways i” exclaimed Earl Raeburn. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 617 
 
 Leaning’ on the arm of Mr. Levison, his lordship quitted 
 the church ; but the confident prediction of Mr. Dormer, 
 that Elinor would revive, was not fulfilled. 
 
 She revived, indeed, so far as to give evident signs 
 that life was not wholly extinct, but her glazed eye wan- 
 dered around without a ray of consciousness, and the 
 medical attendant, who had been hastily summoned, ex- 
 pressed his wish that she should be removed to her home 
 without delay. 
 
 She shall be taken to my house, with your permis- 
 sion, Montgomery,” observed Mr. Dormer. “It is too 
 far for her to be taken to Brompton, and she will be 
 better attended,” 
 
 Denzil briefly expressed his gratitude for the friendly 
 offer; and his still insensible mother was conveyed to 
 one of the carriages in waiting — the doctor, Miss 
 Somerville, and Montgomery himself, accompanying her; 
 while Mr. Dormer took upon himself to convey Fanny, 
 and Mrs Charles Levison, who was also present, to St. 
 James’s Place. 
 
 Some hours had passed before Mrs. Montgomery, (as 
 v/e shall still, for the sake of perspicuity, call her,) recov- 
 ered her recollection. Her son was sitting by her bed- 
 side when she first spoke. 
 
 “I have not dreamed it all?” she observed, looking 
 round her. I surely saw him, and he it was, who was 
 
 to have married Oh, God of heaven, by what strange 
 
 miracle was it that I was inspired to go there ! But where 
 
 is he ? — will he not see the wretched Oh, no, no, — 
 
 yet, my son — his son — his noble son! He must — he shall 
 acknowledge ” 
 
 “ He will, my dear mother, do not thus agitate your- 
 
 J K 
 
618 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 self. Mr Dormer has been with liim — has explained every 
 thing’ — and he waits only till you are sufficiently recover- 
 ed to bear the agitation, to acknowledge, in the presence 
 of all our friends*j your claims and mine to his affection.” 
 
 “ No, no, no !” she exclaimed, with emphasis. “ I 
 have no claims ! I have forfeited all. But let him come 
 now, my son, my dear — my noble boy ! Let him not 
 delay to satisfy my anxious heart, for I am dying ! I feel 
 that I am dying ! Nay, my child, look not thus upon me — 
 for my last moments will be blessed — will be happy ! 
 But, again I entreat you, not to lose a moment in sum- 
 moning him to come to me !” 
 
 Rosa stole softly out of the room, to communicate to 
 her uncle the desire of the dying' sufferer, and soon 
 returned to announce to Montgomery that the Earl was 
 already in the house, and would attend immediately. 
 
 In a few moments he entered the room, and advanced 
 with tolerable firmness to the bed-side. Mrs. Montgomery 
 was raised in her bed, and supported between her son 
 and Rosa, whose attentions to her were incessant. 
 
 “ Elinor, my own long-lost — my beloved wife !” ut- 
 tered the Earl with difficulty. 
 
 She stretched out her arms to him, and sunk silently in 
 his embrace; and then, turning to Denzil, she threw one 
 arm around his neck, as if to draw them nearer to each 
 other, while a smile of the most ecstatic joy irradiated her 
 
 countenance but the next moment it faded away, 
 
 her eyes closed — the spirit had fled for ever ! 
 
 For many minutes the father and son remained silent 
 and motionless, supporting the lifeless form of her who 
 was now for ever lost to them. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 619 
 
 “ She has tainted whispered Denzil, turning to look 
 for Rosa Somerville, who had retreated from the bedside 
 at the moment Earl Raeburn had taken the place she had 
 before occupied. 
 
 Rosa hastily stepped forward, with the nurse, whom 
 she had beckoned from the farther end of the room. A 
 moment of breathless suspense followed. The expe- 
 rienced attendant shook her head. 
 
 “ It is all over !” she observed, in a low voice. “ Poor 
 lady, I thought it would be so ! I knew that change was 
 for death — but, thank heaven, she has made a peaceful 
 end 
 
 Denzil started Dead !’’ he exclaimed, pressing his 
 
 lips to the cold forehead, which now seemed like marble 
 beneath the touch. He looked up in the face of Earl 
 Raeburn, and beheld his lips quivering with suppressed 
 emotion, while his eyes remained firmly fixed on the 
 countenance of her, whom he had so fondly loved, and to 
 whom that love had been the source of so much misery. 
 
 The kind-hearted and thoughtful Rosa had glided out 
 of the room, at the instant the nurse had spoken ; and Mr. 
 Dormer now entered with the physician, whose signifi- 
 cant look confirmed the fatal truth. 
 
 ‘‘ One moment — only one moment longer,” returned 
 Earl Raeburn, in reply to Mr. Dormer’s entreaty that he 
 would quit the melancholy scene — “ let me gaze one mo- 
 ment longer on that face, which has for years hovered 
 nightly over my pillow, and which I had long believed 
 
 was ” His voice failed, and he veiled his manly brow 
 
 with his hand, to conceal the tears that gushed from his 
 eyes. 
 
 Mr. Dormer’s upraised finger silenced the common- 
 
620 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 place remonstrance and condolence wliicli the nurse was 
 about to offer. Denzil had remained silent and motion- 
 less, from the moment that he discovered that his mother 
 was indeed gone for ever— but his lips and cheeks almost 
 vied with the paleness of those on which he now impres- 
 sed a parting kiss. 
 
 ‘‘ You are not going thus in silence, my my son ?’* 
 
 faltered the Earl, extending his hand, as the latter turned 
 to leave the room. 
 
 Denzil eagerly grasped the hand he offered. 
 
 Another time — not now — 1 cannot !” he uttered, and 
 then burst from the room, to give vent to the feelings 
 which oppressed him almost to suffocation. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 ' There are, alas, 
 
 Spirits more sensitive — on wiiich such things 
 Light as the whirlwind on the waters; souls. 
 
 To whom dishonour’s shadow is a substance 
 More terrible than death here and hereafter; 
 
 Men, whose vice it is to start at vice’s scoffing 
 
 Byron. 
 
 Never, perhaps, could any hearts be found in which 
 joy and sorrow were more strangely blended than in 
 those of Denzil Montgomery and Earl Raeburn, when, 
 on the morning after the unfortunate Elinor’s death, they 
 met in Mr. Dormer’s library. 
 
 The corpse of Mrs. Montgomery had been removed at 
 midnight to her late residence at Brompton, to remain 
 there until its interment. 
 
THE GirSY MOTHER 
 
 621 
 
 Denzll had watched by the inanimate remains of her 
 whose sufferings had endeared her to his heart, and 
 eixaced all recollection of her errors, until day-light, and 
 then retired, to endeavour by a few hours’ repose to calm 
 his mind, and enable him to meet with firmness the pa- 
 rent to whom he had become known under such strange 
 and melancholy circumstances. 
 
 How did he now, as he reviewed all the circum- 
 stances, rejoice that his mother had so pertinaciously re- 
 fused to credit the belief that Fanny was not the child 
 whom she had been compelled to desert ! For it was 
 that belief that had induced her to enter the church, 
 where she intended to have remained a concealed spec- 
 tator of the nuptials of her, whom she still considered to 
 be her own child — her Elinor. But what must have been 
 her horror, when she recognised, in the noble and still 
 handsome face and form of the bridegroom, the well-re- 
 membered object of her love ! — the man to whose fatal 
 love she owed all the misery, the danger, the disgrace she 
 had endured — the father of her children — the husband 
 of her young affections ! 
 
 And Fanny — how must she feel at this discovery? 
 
 Denzil dare not trust himself to think of her, and re- 
 proached himself, for the gush of transport which broke 
 involuntarily across the gloom, as he called to remem- 
 brance the image of Fanny, her soft and beautiful eyes 
 glistening through the tears that blinded them, as she 
 knelt beside his mother at the foot of the altar. She had 
 tried to soothe him, too — yes, even amidst the horror, 
 the distraction of that moment, he had heard her voice — 
 heard her call him her clear Denzil,” as she strove to 
 persuade him that his mother would recover. 
 
622 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 A t housand tumultuous thoughts crowded on his mind — 
 at one moment he shuddered with horror, at the recol- 
 lection that although circumstances had, for the present, 
 inteiTupted their union, Fanny was still the affianced 
 hride of the earl of Raeburn, and that the latter, though 
 he had been deeply affected by the unexpected appearance 
 and subsequent death of his once beloved Elinor, might 
 still persevere But Fanny, would she now con- 
 
 sent? Oh, no — he was sure she would not; and Mr. 
 Levison himself could not — dare not be so cruel !— Be- 
 sides, would not the latter, in all probability, deeply 
 resent the conduct of the Earl, in having been so entirely 
 silent on the subject of his former engagements. These, 
 and a thousand other thoughts and conjectures, passed 
 through the disturbed and heated brain of the afflicted 
 Denzil, until all further hopes of sleep were banished by 
 the delivery of a note, which a servant brought to his 
 bedside. 
 
 It was from Earl Raeburn, and, after a brief intro- 
 ductory sentence, concluded as follows. 
 
 Can you doubt my extreme anxiety to see and ac- 
 knowledge my son ? Let not the fatality which has so 
 long kept us in ignorance of each other, be imputed to 
 me as a crime, nor think that I do not fully participate 
 in your grief Come, then, and let us share together 
 our regret for the irreparable loss we have both sus- 
 tained. I have learned from Mr. Dormer some most 
 interesting particulars of your history — but I have yet 
 much to learn, that I would willingly hear from your own 
 lips. I shall anxiously await you at Mr. Dormer’s, to 
 whose kindness and attention we are both so deeply 
 indebted.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 623 
 
 Within two hours from the receipt of this, Denzil was 
 introduced into his father’s presence by Mr. Dormer, 
 who immediately left them together. Some time, how- 
 ever, elapsed before either could attain sufficient calmness 
 to enter into those details which each were so anxious to 
 hear — and it was long before Denzil could command him- 
 self to speak of his mother, except to utte*r his grief for 
 her loss — a grief which was heightened by the circum- 
 stances that had hastened it. She had died,” he said, 
 “just at the moment when she beheld her most ardent 
 wishes realised— when she beheld that happiness, which 
 had so long been denied her, within her grasp !” 
 
 It was, perhaps, fortunate that the affectionate son 
 could not read all that was passing in the heart of his 
 surviving parent — for it would not probably have in- 
 creased the respect and affection he was disposed tc 
 bestow on him, to have known that the Earl, however 
 much he regretted the circumstances attendant on Elinor’s 
 death, however deeply he mourned the miseries she had 
 suffered, still felt that, had she lived, it would not have 
 been in his power to have, compensated for those suffer- 
 ings, in the way which his son seemed to consider as na- 
 tural and indispensable. How could he, bearing the high 
 name and station he did, publicly acknowledge and take 
 to his arms, as his wife, the unfortunate who stood branded 
 with disgrace and infamy — even though she were really 
 innocent of all that had been attributed to her ? But that 
 was not the case — not even her son’s fond and filial at- 
 tachment could remove from her the foul stain of having 
 taken advantage of the unsuspecting fondness of the un- 
 fortunate Alfred Levison — of seeking her own aggran- 
 disement at the expense of every feeling of honour, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 G2i 
 
 every principle of morality ! What where her vows at 
 the altar, hut deliberate perjury? — and what had been 
 her life since, until the period when her son’s unexampled 
 affection had rescued her ? — No, never — dearly as he 
 loved her — deeply as he lamented her fate, — never could 
 Elinor have been restored to her place in society by his 
 means; and as he gazed upon the noble and animated 
 countenance of the youth who was destined to perpetuate 
 his name and title, he felt that he could scarcely regret 
 that death had removed that which would have proved 
 a barrier to the full indulgence of that pride and affection 
 which he was disposed to feel for such a son. 
 
 And he was right. — Denzil was too tenderly attached 
 to his mother, to reason coolly on the subject of her 
 errors — and too unworldly, to calculate the consequences 
 of his acknowledging and protecting her. He dreamed 
 not that, had she lived, his father would have hesitated 
 to have done her justice in the face of' the world — nor 
 did he consider that he would have considered himself 
 fortunate to have the power of rendering her remaining 
 years happy. Fortunately, he was spared the uneasiness 
 which the knowledge of how widely* different were their 
 ideas on this subject, would have caused; and, on every 
 point in which the name of Elinor was concerned, there 
 existed no difference of opinion between them. 
 
 With feelings of the deepest anguish and regret, the 
 Earl listened to the mournful detail which his son, as 
 ]>riefly as possible, gave at his request, of the sorrows and 
 sufferings which had expiated in his eyes, and he trusted 
 in the eyes of Heaven, all her frailties and errors. The 
 awful death of Tyrrell — the author of those errors, the 
 sharer in those calamities, which liad been their conse- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 625 
 
 quence — was heard and related with shuddering horror — 
 but, even on this point, the feelings of the father and son 
 differed very essentially. Denzil lamented that he had 
 not lived to he convinced of the enormity of his guilt, and 
 to have endeavoured to atone for it, while the Earl only 
 considered his death as an advantage to society, and an 
 earthly judgment for crimes which, though they had 
 escaped the just punishment of the law, could not elude 
 the vengeance of heaven. 
 
 ‘‘ And that man was once my companion ! — nay more, 
 my most intimate friend !” he observed. ‘‘ Even now I can 
 recal his insinuating tones, — the keen glances of his 
 penetrating eye, — the apparently frank and jovial thought- 
 lessness of his manner, — the sparkling wit, the ready 
 hon mot — the lively intelligence of his conversation — the 
 animated and liberal sentiments which seemed to flow from 
 his heart — all, all that could eflectually veil the corrupted 
 venom that lurked beneath, did Martin Tyrrell possess ! 
 How, then, could I wonder that I was deceived? And 
 Elinor, too, so young, so beautiful, so uninstructed in all 
 that she should have been taught — alas, her mind was then 
 a fair unsullied page, and, but for the disastrous event of 
 our separation, how different would have been the records 
 inscribed thereon ! Oh, with what agony did my heart 
 yield to the conviction that she was undeserving of the 
 love, the adoration which I felt towards her-^and, even 
 when I could no longer doubt — when every hope of our 
 re-union had vanished for ever — still did I turn with 
 indifference from the whole sex — there were ^one 
 worthy to supply the place of Elinor — none who could 
 fill the aching void which she had left in my bosom ! 
 Never, until within these few months, did I behold the 
 
 4 L 
 
626 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 female who could create more than a temporary feeling of 
 admiration in my bosom. The mild domestic virtues, the 
 sweetness of disposition, and the exquisite sensibility of 
 Miss Levison, first awakened in my heart the feeling that 
 I might yet be happy — that pensive, retiring melancholy 
 (of which I dreamt not then the source) which I observed 
 in her manner, so different from the vanity, the frivolity, 
 and lightness of those of her sex, who possess superior 
 personal attractions, was to me the most alluring charm — 
 but I am giving pain to you, by thus dwelling on feelings 
 which have been, I find, the source of much misery to 
 you and her, and which I ought the more especially to 
 regret, as having led to the melancholy catastrophe which 
 I shall never cease to lament ; and yet, how evidently has 
 a guiding hand directed all which, at the time, has seemed 
 only the effects of chance ! But for the attachment which 
 I felt for that lovely girl, I should perhaps have still re- 
 mained abroad, pining and discontented, without a single 
 tie to bind me to life — while you, though happy in the 
 consciousness that you were fulfilling a sacred duty, could 
 have had little hope of ever reaping the reward of your 
 exemplary conduct. My poor Elinor, too, would in all 
 probability have left the world without the satisfaction 
 of uniting two hearts, whose feelings and interests will, 
 1 trust, be henceforth undivided.” 
 
 Denzil bowed in gratitude upon the hand which his 
 father extended to him, but he could not trust himself to 
 speak ; and the Earl, after a short pause, continued — 
 
 I have not, of course, seen Mr. Levison, or any of 
 his family, since the event which so materially changed the 
 relations in which we stood ; but I understood from Mr. 
 Dormer, that the ladies of the family sent repeated inqui- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 627 
 
 ries, and that Mrs. Charles Levison was actually in the 
 house, when the final event took place, and remained a 
 considerable time with Miss Somerville in the chamber 
 of death. Poor Fanny, her gentle nature has received 
 some severe shocks, but I trust the eventual certainty of 
 happiness, which must now present itself to her mind, will 
 be a powerful restorative.” 
 
 Denzil’s heart throbbed with the mingled sensations of 
 pain and pleasure, which these observations excited; he 
 felt that they were only such as he had a right to expect 
 his father would make, but this was not a time — he dared 
 not even think of the happiness that awaited him — and 
 there was something inexpressibly painful to him in hear- 
 ing the Earl speak even of Fanny, much more allude to 
 the connexion which had been so abruptly terminated. 
 
 The entrance of Mr. Dormer was a welcome relief. 
 
 “ I would not intrude upon you,” observed the kind- 
 hearted old gentleman, but I am fearful that you have 
 both forgotten that you have been nearly five hours 
 together, and have taken no refreshment. The mind, I 
 know, will for a time sustain the body, but there are 
 certain limits which cannot be passed without producing 
 ill efibcts, and those limits you have both passed — since I 
 do not suppose you, Denzil, have breakfasted any more 
 than his lordship ?” 
 
 Denzil replied with truth that he had felt neither in- 
 clination nor necessity for food. 
 
 “ Then it is quite time you should feel both,” returned 
 Mr. Dormer; ‘‘and now, if you will take an old man’s 
 advice, you will both come with me into the other room, 
 and let Rosa make breakfast for you. She has but just 
 risen — ^^for I laid my commands upon her to remain in 
 
628 
 
 THE GIPS^ MOTHER. 
 
 bed till I sent for her, that she might recruit her strength 
 a little by rest.” 
 
 Denzil would have wished to decline this invitation; in 
 the present state of his mind, solitude was, he felt, his 
 best soother — but he saw his father was disposed to 
 accept it, and he therefore silently acquiesced. 
 
 Rosa Somerville’s eyes filled with tears as she raised 
 them to Denzil’s melancholy and pallid face. Mr. Dormer 
 tried to keep up a conversation on indifferent subjects; 
 but the hearts of all present were too full, and the break- 
 fast was despatched in almost total silence. 
 
 “ And now what are you going to do with yourself, my 
 dear ?” said Mr. Dormer to Rosa, when she rose to leave 
 the room. 
 
 Rosa hesitated, and a slight blush crossed her cheek. 
 She looked at Denzil, whose eyes were fixed in mournful 
 abstraction on a beautiful marble group of Niobe, weeping 
 over her children, which was placed on a cabinet near 
 him. 
 
 “ You are right, my dear,” observed Mr. Dormer, who 
 instantly comprehended the source of her hesitation, ‘‘the 
 walk will do you good — I would not have you ride, as 
 the day is so fine — and you can then bring us accurate 
 intelligence how our friends are. Have you any message, 
 my lord, to Mr. Levison, of which Rosa can be the bearer?” 
 
 The Earl replied in the negative. 
 
 “ I must suspend all explanation,” he observed, “ until 
 after the last duties are paid to — ” he hesitated a moment, 
 and then added, — “ my wife ; and then, if there should be 
 any feeling of anger on the part of Mr. Levison, from 
 whom alone it is to be expected, my son will, I trust, be 
 the mediator between us. But I hope better things, I 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 629 
 
 confess, of my kind friend, who will, I am sure, however 
 he may feel hurt at the unfortunate publicity attendant oir 
 the late events, be convinced that it was not in my power 
 to avoid it.” 
 
 Neither Mr. Dormer, to whom this was addressed, nor 
 Denzil, made any comments on it. Both, perhaps, were 
 at that moment thinking that it would be as well, at 
 present, to avoid any discussion on the subject, and both, 
 too, were probably of opinion that a little more candour 
 on the part of the Earl, would certainly have exculpated 
 him from all blame, if it had not brought about those 
 explanations which had now been productive of so much 
 pain to all parties. 
 
 It was with great reluctance that Denzil yielded to the 
 persuasions of Mr. Dormer and the Earl, to remain with 
 them during the remainder of the day ; but nothing they 
 offered, could prevent his returning to Brompton at night, 
 nor alter his determination of remaining there until the 
 funeral ceremony should take place. He knew. Indeed, 
 that custom authorised the desertion of the most beloved 
 relative, the moment that death had broken the tie of 
 kindred or affection; but his heart refused to submit to 
 this selfish practice, and nothing but his extreme desire to 
 behold his remaining parent, and the equal anxiety ex- 
 pressed by the latter, could have induced him, for one 
 hour, to have quitted his home, so long as the cold 
 remains of his mother reposed there. 
 
 At the dinner-table they were joined by Miss Somer- 
 ville, who apologised to her uncle for being rather late, 
 observing that she had not been at home more than ten 
 minutes. 
 
 “ Our friends are all well, I hope ?” observed the Earl 
 
630 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Rosa blushed, and, in a confused tone, replied — “ I did 
 not see Mr. Levison — nor indeed, but for a moment 
 or two, any of the family, except my cousin Emma, and 
 Mr. Charles Levison.” 
 
 Denzil involuntarily cast a scrutinizing' glance upon her, 
 but Rosa’s eyes were fixed on her plate, with a look of 
 sorrow and perplexity, which evidently arose from the 
 subject on which she was questioned. 
 
 Mr. Dormer, too, looked up from his dinner, as if to 
 read in her countenance an explanation of the evasive ex- 
 pression she had used, while Earl Raeburn’s looks betray- 
 ed, more openly than either of the other parties, his sur- 
 prise and disappointment, at not receiving a more direct 
 answer to his question. 
 
 Nothing further, however, was said, until the cloth was 
 removed, and the servants had retired ; and then Mr. 
 Dormer anticipated the Earl by saying. 
 
 Is there any secret reason, Rosa, why you could not 
 reply directly to the interrogation of his lordship respect- 
 ing the friends you visited this morning ? If there is, no 
 one, I am sure, would wish to trespass on your confi- 
 dence — but if there is not ” 
 
 I will at once explain why I did not immediately 
 answer,” returned Rosa ; “ and what I have to tell you, 
 though probably it will eventually prove of little con- 
 sequence, was nevertheless sufficiently vexatious and 
 mortifying as to induce me to wish to reveal it only to 
 my friends.” 
 
 Earl Raeburn bowed in his most graceful manner for 
 this implied compliment, and Rosa proceeded 
 
 “ On reaching St. James’s Place, 1 did not think it 
 necessary to make any formal inquiries; but, having told 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 631 
 
 Thomas to return for me at half-past four, I entered the 
 hall, and was proceeding- towards the staircase with my 
 usual freedom, having hitherto considered myself as much 
 at home there as here, when the porter, with a hesitating 
 tone and look, said — 
 
 “ ‘ I am afraid, ma^am, the ladies are engaged ; — that 
 is to say, I don’t exactly know, ma’am, whether they w ill 
 see anybody — but if you’ll please to walk in here,’ and he 
 opened the front-parlour door, ‘ I’ll ring for Miss Levi- 
 son’s maid, and she can tell.’ 
 
 “ I was thunderstruck at this — but the thought instantly 
 occurred to me, that the poor man had received some 
 orders, which he had mistaken, and which could not be 
 meant to include me ; and I turned back on the step of 
 the parlour, 
 
 “ ‘ Miss Levison, I suppose, has given general orders, 
 James, to be denied; but, you may be assured, she did 
 not intend ’ 
 
 “ ‘ It wasn’t my young lady at all, ma’am, he inter- 
 rupted, respectfully bowing, ‘ but master himself ; and I’m 
 afraid — but pray do walk in, till Mrs. Susan comes — I 
 dare say it will be all right,’ — and away he hurried, be- 
 fore I had time to say another word. 
 
 ‘‘ I waited in the parlour nearly a quarter of an hour, 
 and several times I was on the point of walking out of 
 the house, without any explanation of this strange treat- 
 ment ; but at last the door opened, and Charles entered. 
 He had just come in from the street, and came into this 
 room by accident,' without knowing I was there. 
 
 “ ‘ My dear Rosa, what in the world are you doing 
 here, by yourself?’ he exclaimed, looking at me with 
 surprise. 
 
632 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ Nay,’ I replied, ‘ you must require an explanation of 
 Fanny, or Emma, whom I came to see — but to whom, as 
 it appears, 1 am denied admittance.’ 
 
 “ Charles looked as much surprised as I had done, when 
 James first asked me into the little parlour. 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ Do, pray come up stairs with me, cousin,’ he 
 replied, ‘ and let us understand what all this means. I have 
 not yet seen any of the good folks, for I breakfasted and 
 went out early.’ 
 
 “ I was about to refuse, and ask him to see me home — 
 but, upon second thoughts, it struck me that I should be 
 acting as captiously and unreasonably as themselves, to 
 quit the house without knowing what had occasioned such 
 a strong resolution, and accordingly I went up stairs. 
 
 ‘‘ In the front drawing-room stood aunt Rachel, look- 
 ing the very image of vexation and uneasiness. 
 
 ^ How do you do, my love?’ she said, taking my hand^ 
 with her usual kindness, and then, hurrying out of the 
 room, she added, ‘ you must excuse me, Rosa, for I am 
 very busy, very busy, indeed !’ 
 
 (( ( Where is Fanny, aunt?’ said Charles, following 
 her. I did not hear her answer, but I had already dis- 
 covered that Emma was in the back drawing-room, the 
 folding doors being closed; but I could hear her voice, 
 and hear, too, that she was very angrily remonstrating 
 with some one, whom I presently discovered to be Mr. 
 Levison. 
 
 Charles returned into the room on tiptoe, with finger 
 on his lips, to enforce silence, and I was thus unwillingly 
 obliged to hear what was passing in the next room. 
 
 “ ‘ You certainly may do as you' please, Mrs. Charles 
 Levison,’ said the old gentleman, in reply to some obser- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 vation from Emma — ‘ I have certainly no contronl over 
 your actions ; and, if you choose to see your cousin, I 
 cannot forbid It — but I have made up my mind about 
 Fanny, and I will be obeyed. It is hard, indeed, if I am 
 to be balked in every way.’ 
 
 We heard him then go out by the other entrance, and 
 in a moment Emma opened the folding doors and came to 
 Charles and me. 
 
 She had been crying bitterly, and I soon learned that 
 it had been occasioned by Mr. Levison’s determination to 
 leave London, immediately, for Cumberland ; and, during 
 the short time he remained in London, to exclude every 
 body who might call. He had, it seems, given orders to 
 that effect to the porter, and had even, I believe, by name 
 specified the Dormer family.” 
 
 He is an obstinate old fool !” muttered Mr Dormer, 
 angrily; ‘‘ and so, then, you did not see poor Fanny, my 
 dear ?” he added, in a louder tone, 
 
 Rosa replied in the negative, ‘H understood from 
 Emma,” she continued, that she had not quitted her 
 room, and knew nothing of her father’s hasty project, nor 
 his prohibition of the visits of her friends.” 
 
 There seems a fatality attendant on me,” observed 
 Earl Raeburn, that I should be doomed to be the cause 
 of unhappiness to those whom I most respect and esteem. 
 I trust, however, this breach of ancient friendship 
 between you and Mr. Levison, sir, will not be very last- 
 ing.” 
 
 Pshaw, my dear sir, do not suppose that this gives me 
 a moment’s uneasiness on my own account,” returned 
 Mr. Dormer. Levison is like a spoiled child, who be- 
 cause he cannot get the plaything he has fixed his lieart 
 
 4 M 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 (>3i 
 
 upon, demolishes all that he can get at around him — if he 
 is not prev^ented,” he added, with a meaning smile, ‘‘and 
 that must be our care.” 
 
 Denzil made no remark, but his spirits, if possible, be- 
 came more depressed by the idea of Fanny suffering from 
 the captiousness and petulance of her disappointed parent. 
 
 Heavily and wearily the hours passed on; — from time to 
 time, Mr. Dormer, or the Earl, started some topic of con- 
 versation, which might, at any other time, have led to a 
 pleasing and animated discussion; but their hearts were 
 not in it — their minds were wandering to very different 
 subjects, and gradually they again dropped into silence and 
 meditation. 
 
 Denzil was on the point of bidding them farewell, when 
 Mr. Charles Levison was announced. He followed the 
 servant, before either of the party had time to utter a word. 
 
 “ You are surprised, I dare say, to see me at this time 
 of night, good folks,” he observed, with his usual confi- 
 dence of manner; “but, I know, Mr. Dormer's doors are 
 open at all times to the distressed.” 
 
 “ You have no reason, I hope, Mr. Levison, to rank 
 yourself in that class,” replied Mr. Dormer, very gravely. 
 
 “ Why it is not exactly on my own account I am 
 come,” he replied, in the same flippant tone, “ but, the 
 fact is, my obstinate, perverse, provoking uncle, has taken 
 it into his wise head to start off to Cumberland, to-morrow 
 morning ; and, not content with taking Fanny, who, I 
 know, would give one of her eyes to stay ” 
 
 “ I will wish you all good-night,” interrupted Denzil, 
 who had been standing half-concealed by the window- 
 curtains, looking at the moon, which was shining beauti- 
 fully clear and bright. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 635 
 
 “ Denzil, my dear fellow, I declare I did not know 
 you were in the room !” exclaimed Charles, advancing to 
 shake hands with him, and I hardly know noAv whether 
 to congratulate or condole with you; and yet, I think, 
 after all, you have much more to rejoice than to grieve 
 for; it was a narrow escape, though, wasn’t it ?” he added, 
 in a lower tone ; “ but, you know, I always said you and 
 Fanny ” 
 
 “ Pray do not speak on that subject now,” interrupted 
 Denzil, in great agitation, and he made an attempt to 
 pass Charles, who he now discovered with sorrow was 
 not perfectly sober. 
 
 “ Where are you hurrying to, Denzil ? — though that is 
 not the name, I suppose, which you are henceforth to bear. 
 Egad, but it will be a hard task to learn to call you 
 William — but that’s your proper name^ aunt Rachel 
 says. However, be your name whatever it may, it 
 cannot alter you — you will still be my own old friend, 
 playfellow, and monitor, as I used to call you.” 
 
 “ It is a pity that you have not profited a little more 
 by his lessons and example,” said Mr. Dormer, gravely ; 
 “ but come, Charles, do not detain your friend, who has 
 got a long walk before him — for I cannot persuade him 
 to take the carriage.” 
 
 “ A walk !” reiterated Charles. ‘‘ Where are you 
 going, then ? Oh, I recollect — but do you sleep there, 
 now ? Brompton, is it not ?” 
 
 Denzil replied in the affirmative. 
 
 “ Well, then, I’ll walk with you, as far as the door, for 
 I want to talk to you,” returned Charles, “ and I don’t 
 know when I may have such another opportunity.” 
 
 “ But you forget that you want to consult Mr. Dor- 
 

 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 mer/^ observed Denzil, who by no means relished the 
 thought of such a, companion, in his present state of mind. 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, all I’ve got to say to you, my dear sir,” said 
 Charles, addressing Mr. Dormer, ‘‘is, that my uncle 
 wants to drag Emma with him into the country ; and as 
 she has no decent excuse for declining it, and is sure she 
 shall die if she does go, she wants 3^ou to be kind enough 
 to send her an invitation to ” 
 
 “ I will have nothing to do with it, sir,” interrupted 
 Mr. Dormer ; “ and I wonder at Emma’s thoughtlessness, 
 and still more at yours, in making such a proposal.” 
 
 “ There — I knew I should get into disgrace !” said 
 Charles, without appearing the least abashed; “but 
 come, Denzil, let’s be off, or I shall get another lecture 
 when I go home, for keeping the family up.” And with 
 a bow to the Earl and Mr. Dormer, and a nod to Rosa 
 Somerville, he dragged Denzil out of the room. 
 
 “ Well, you are a lucky fellow !” he observed, as soon 
 as they were out of the house. 
 
 “ Lucky !” repeated Denzil, in a tone of unfeigned 
 astonishment. 
 
 “ That is to say, I mean you are lucky, in some res- 
 pects,” he replied. “To be sure, your mother’s death 
 has thrown a gloom upon you for the present — but, then, 
 it is an event that must have taken place, sooner or 
 later — and, really, I can’t see, all things considered, that 
 there’s much to grieve about — for, as I was saying to 
 Emma, this morning ” 
 
 “ Forgive me, Charles,” interrupted Denzil, impatient- 
 ly, “ your arguments may probably be very correct — but 
 I cannot, at the present moment, listen to them.” 
 
 “ Well, well, I don’t want to force them upon you,” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 G37 
 
 returned Charles; “ but I’ll tell you what I wanted par- 
 ticularly to talk to you about. The fact is, you know — 
 for it’s no use beating about the bush — that the match be- 
 tw’'een the Earl and Fanny is off! Now, I see you are 
 impatient to interrupt me, Denzil — but the fact is, that 
 all the misery both you and Fanny have been suffering 
 for nearly two years, has arisen from your backwardness 
 in speaking your mind freely— I could prove it — but I 
 do not want to hurt your feelings — I want to serve you, 
 if I can ; and therefore I am come to-night to tell you, 
 that, if you are foolish enough to let my uncle carry Fanny 
 off into C’umberland, as he proposes to do, without mak- 
 ing an effort to prevent it ” 
 
 “What effort can I make, Charles? how can you 
 talk so thoughtlessly?” replied Denzil. 
 
 “ Why, then. I’ll just tell you what I would do, were 
 I in your place,” returned Charles, with an air of deci- 
 sion. “ I would persuade Fanny, without further cere- 
 mony or delay, to elope — and, when you are once married, 
 leave Earl Raeburn and my uncle to settle matters ; 
 and, you may be sure ” 
 
 “ Charles, let me seriously advise you to go home to 
 bed,” interrupted Denzil, vexed and irritated at his folly. 
 
 “ You have now convinced me of what I suspected, from 
 the moment I saw you enter the room to-night, that you 
 are not sober ; and, in the present state of my mind, I 
 cannot contend with such folly.” 
 
 “ Flome !” reiterated Charles, contemptuously, “ what 
 liome have I to go to ? I am sick to death of the twad- 
 dling stuff I hear at my uncle’s ; and there’s Emma — they 
 are making her as great a fool as themselves I No, I shall 
 not go home at all, to-night — for if I do, there’ll be no- 
 
638 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 thing but lecturing and finding fault; and you are not a 
 bit better than the rest ! I don’t know what possessed 
 me to trouble my head about you or your alfairs — ^ — ” 
 Denzil was on the point of saying that he should be 
 considerably obliged to him if he would not again take so 
 much unnecessary trouble— but, before he could utter a 
 word, his companion turned suddenly on his heel 
 and left him ; and, on looking backj he saw that he had 
 joined two females, who had a few moments before passed 
 them. 
 
 Vexed and disgusted at the excessive levity of his con- 
 duct, Denzil turned hastily away, and was proceeding on 
 his route, when he suddenly recollected Charles’s decla- 
 ration that he would not go home at all — and fearful that, 
 in his present mood, he might adhere to this determina- 
 tion, and thus involve himself in fresh trouble and dis- 
 grace, as well as give additional uneasiness to his family, 
 he again retraced his steps, in the hope of persuading him 
 to return home. 
 
 Charles did not, it appeared, observe that he had fol- 
 lowed him ; and as he approached j he heard him address- 
 ing the females with some common-place gallantry, to 
 which the one who appeared the elder replied, in a re- 
 served tone— — - 
 
 “ Your attentions, sir, are very unpleasant — I expect 
 every moment to meet my husband — and even if I did 
 not, your offered protection is quite unnecessary.” 
 
 “ Oh, but I cannot think of allowing you to walk alone, 
 at this time of the evening,” replied Charles, “ come, do 
 pray let me prevail on you to take my arm !” — and he 
 tried to force himself between the two females, who clung 
 close together, to baffle his purpose. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 639 
 
 Charles,’* exclaimed Denzil, tapping him on the 
 shoulder, “ 1 want to speak with you.” 
 
 “ Oh, what you knew better, then, than to go to your 
 solitary home?” exclaimed Charles, “ well, for once, I give 
 you credit for your discernment — These ladies are 
 friends of mine — come. I’ll have the pleasure of introduc- 
 ing you.” 
 
 ‘‘ Pray, Mr. Levison, let us pass !” exclaimed the fe- 
 male who had before spoken, you weU know that your 
 nonsense has before been the cause of ” 
 
 “ I know your husband is a foolish, jealous-pated mon- 
 key !” he replied, interrupting her. “But come, let me 
 introduce Mr. Denzil Montgomery to you ; and perhaps, 
 then your pretty sister will not refuse to let him escort 
 her — for he is as serious as even my friend Mackenzie 
 could wish.” 
 
 “ Mr. Levison, this is shameful and cruel of you !” ex- 
 claimed both females. “ Pray let us go on !” — for he 
 was now standing before them, so that they could not 
 pass. 
 
 “ Charles, I insist you let the ladies proceed,” said 
 Denzil, angrily. “ How can you be so unmanly as to 
 annoy them, when ** 
 
 Before he could finish the sentence, Charles was felled 
 to the earth by a blow from some one who came tjuickly 
 up behind; and, almost at the same instant, Denzil re- 
 ceived a violent blow in the face from another assailant. 
 
 More collected, however, than Charles, he contrived 
 to keep his feet, though the force of the blow made him 
 stagger some paces backward. 
 
 Imagining, in the confusion of the moment, that they 
 were assaulted by street-robbers, I'enzil, as he rushed 
 
640 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 upon the man who had struck him, called loudly for as- 
 sistance ; but he was soon undecoiv^ed, and enabled to 
 comprehend the cause of the attack — for the exclama- 
 tions of the two females, after their first shriek of terror, 
 betrayed that it was the husband who had been spoken of, 
 accompanied by a friend, who, it appeared, was equally 
 interested, being- the betrothed of the other female. 
 
 It was in vain, however, that he attempted to explain 
 to them that, in reality, nothing had occurred, which 
 could warrant such violence — that he had himself not even 
 spoken to the females — and that Charles, who was now 
 lying quite insensible, though he had done wrong, per- 
 haps, in pertinaciously insisting on accompanying the 
 ladies — 
 
 “ Yes, yes, I dare say — you can, of course, tell a fine 
 story,” interrupted the husband, whom Denzil now re- 
 cognised as a tradesmen with whom Mr. Levison had 
 dealt, and whose shop he (Denzil) had frequently visited 
 with Charles, though he had never then suspected that 
 the latter had any sinister motive in lounging in Macken- 
 zie’s shop, and gossiping with his pretty wife and sister. 
 
 Even at the present moment, indeed, he was far from 
 suspecting that Mackenzie had any serious cause for the 
 resentment he had betrayed ; and, vexed at the insolent 
 tone in which the latter had replied, he angrily observed, 
 I consider you now, Mr. Mackenzie, as unworthy of 
 receiving any explanation from me, and you may depend 
 upon it you shall hear further of this unprovoked vio- 
 lence.” 
 
 With the assistance of some of the by-standers, whom 
 the alfray had collected, Charles was by this time on his 
 feet, and he now began, in no very measured terms, to 
 
THE GirSY MOTHER. 
 
 641 
 
 abuse his assailant, whom he designated a jeaioiis-pated 
 fool, adding-, 
 
 *• If your wife were not present to protect you, I would 
 give you, what you richly deserve, a sound thrashing !’’ 
 
 Again Mackenzie, disregarding the screams and en- 
 treaties of tlie females, rushed at his antagonist, who now 
 more on his guard, somewhat sobered by the blow he 
 liad received, and possessing more personal strength than 
 tlie former, stood prepared to meet him, and returned 
 the blow. Several hits were now quickly exchanged, in 
 spite of Denzil’s determined interposition and remon- 
 strances, before the watch, who had been called together 
 by the uproar, came to the spot ; and then it was with 
 considerable difficulty the combatants were overpowered 
 by the official preservers of the peace. 
 
 It was in vain that Denzil, who, though greatly irri- 
 tated by what lie considered the unpardonable violence 
 of Mackenzie and his friend, still wished to bring the 
 affair to an amicable conclusion — in vain that he endea- 
 voured to persuade the guardians of the night that the 
 fray had originated in a mistake, and that the parties 
 being knoAvn to each other, could settle it on the follow- 
 ing morning, or any future time, without their assistance 
 — they persisted that it was a breach of the peace, Avhich 
 could not be settled without the interference of a magis- 
 trate ; and that the offending party must therefore be 
 kept in safe hold, that is to say, in the watch-house, until 
 the following morning. But who was the offending 
 party ? Charles,,and of course Denzil, loudly declared 
 that they had committed no breach of the peace, but 
 had been shamefully assaulted by Mr. Mackenzie and 
 his companion — a fact which was proved, not only by 
 
 4 N 
 
642 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 the evidence of Denzil’s swollen eye, and Charleses sundry 
 bruises and dirted clothes, but by the spontaneous declara- 
 tion of a man who had seen the first blows given ; and 
 on these proofs Mr. Mackenzie and his Mend were about 
 to be taken off by the watchmen, when the tables were 
 turned by their vociferous protestations that Mr. Levi- 
 son and his companion had drawn this upon them, by 
 grossly insulting the two ladies, who were now, by tears 
 and entreaties, endeavouring to procure the enlargement of 
 their two champions. It is false !” exclaimed Denzil, 
 “ I appeal to the ladies themselves !” — but alas, he soon 
 found that he could not have made a more unfortunate 
 appeal — for the two females, determined to rescue their 
 relatives at any price, and anxious to save themselves 
 from any blame in their eyes, immediately declared that 
 they certainly had been insulted, and that it was not the 
 first time by a good many that Mr. Levison had annoyed 
 them. 
 
 “Yes, he has had the impudence,” added the enraged 
 husband, “ even to intrude into my house, when he knew 
 I was out of the way, and try to persuade my wife to 
 elope with him, and even bribe my servant to bring his 
 insulting letters to her; and now I’ve not a doubt 
 he had got information that she and her sister were com- 
 ing home from their mother’s at Knightsbridge, and he 
 and his companion there, who, I dare say, is no better 
 than himself, waylaid them. And who can blame me for 
 what I’ve done ? But they are gentlemen, and I’m a trades- 
 man, and they think they’re to do as they please — but, thank 
 heaven. I’m an Englishman, and I’ll let them know that 
 there’s law for me, as well as for gentlefolks !” 
 
 This was appealing loudly to the feelings of those whom 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 643 
 
 curiosity had collected around them; and Denzil’s obser- 
 vation, that he ought to have appealed to the law, and not 
 have taken it into his own hands, was drowned in the 
 plaudits of the crowd, at Mackenzie’s proper display of 
 spirit; and the watchmen, yielding to the popular feeling, 
 released the grasp they had taken of the latter and his 
 friend, and seemed upon the point of agreeing to leave 
 the parties to settle it at another time, when some offi- 
 cious person suggested that Mr. Mackenzie ought to give 
 charge of the two impudent rakes, and let a night’s 
 lodging in the watch-house teach them not to meddle 
 with men’s wives for the future. 
 
 Unfortunately, Charles, instead of taking no notice of 
 this friendly advice, replied to it by some expressions of 
 contempt, not only towards Mackenzie, but the “ high 
 and mighty” authority of the watchmen, who, of course, 
 now considered their dignity compromised, and themselves 
 involved in the dispute. 
 
 Now, I’ll just tell you what it is, my fine fellow,” 
 observed one of them, addressing Charles, and at the 
 same time raising the staff of office, in a threatening man- 
 ner, close to his face, ‘‘ if so be as you don’t toddle pretty 
 quickly. I’ll make you, without no more words.” 
 
 “You’re an impudent rascal !” exclaimed Charles, in a 
 violent passion, “ and, if you offer to touch me. I’ll break 
 your head for you !” 
 
 Denzil caught him by the arm, to drag him away ; but 
 the mischief was now dx)ne — Charles was charged with 
 obstructing and insulting the officers of the night, and in 
 a moment he was seized by the collar, by two of them, 
 who attempted to drag him along ; but Charles was now 
 in no humour to submit quietly, and, after a few moments’ 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 GU 
 
 violent strug-g-le, during which Denzil vainly attempted to 
 pacify him, they all three came down together in the 
 kennel, to the no small amusement of the mischievous 
 part of the crowd, who were, as usual, most of them dis- 
 posed to exult in the downfall of the guardians of the 
 peace. 
 
 Denzil had until this moment acted, though fruitlessly, 
 only as a pacificator ; but he could no longer maintain his 
 temper, when he beheld Charles receive several tremen- 
 dous blows from the bludgeon of a third watchman, who 
 came to the assistance of his fellows, and, without know- 
 ing or even inquiring what had been the matter, com- 
 mence a furious attack upon Charles* who, being still 
 held fast by the other two, was totally unable to ward off 
 the blows which were showered upon his head and 
 shoulders. 
 
 “ What arc you about, you rascal? Are you going to 
 commit murder ?” exclaimed Denzil, rushing upon him, 
 and in an instant wrenching the staff from his hand, he 
 threw it over the rails of the Park, close to which the 
 a dray had taken place ; but this triumph was not of long' 
 duration, for several other watchmen had by this time 
 arrived, and Denzil, who had never contemplated, even 
 in thought, any breach of the peace, was now made pri- 
 soner, and dragged along with his companion, who had 
 been by this time completely overpowered, to the watch- 
 house. 
 
 Totally unused to such scenes, and making sure that, 
 upon a proper representation of the case, to any person in 
 authority, above the degree of the ignorant and furious 
 wretches who had brought him thither, Denzil felt not 
 the slightest uneasiness as to the final issue of the case ; 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEIl. 
 
 G45 
 
 but what was his astonishment and indignation, when the 
 constable, before whom they were taken, after hearing a 
 most exaggerated statement of violence from the watch- 
 men, coolly told him, when he would have related the 
 true story, that he (Denzil) might keep all that to tell the 
 magistrate, before whom he should consider it his duty to 
 send them both, in the morning. 
 
 “ But you surely will not detain us here all night 
 exclaimed Denzil, in surprise. 
 
 “ You may depend upon it I shall,’^ returned the officer, 
 with great nonchalance^ “ unless you have two substan- 
 tial housekeepers to produce, who will bail you.’' 
 
 ‘‘ What can we do ?” demanded Denzil, turning to 
 Charles, who, half-stupified with the blows he had re- 
 ceived, aided by the latent effects of the wine he had 
 drunk, and his great personal exertions, had listened 
 with great indifference to the statements of his violent 
 conduct, which, both in his case and Denzil’s, had been 
 represented to have originated in their having grossly 
 insulted and abused two respectable females whom they 
 (the watchmen) had interfered to protect. — “ What are 
 we to do ?” he repeated, “ we must not remain in this 
 horrible place all night.” 
 
 “ You should have thought of that before,” observed 
 the officer; ‘‘as it is, it is my duty to take care of you. 
 Lock them up, Stevens.” 
 
 All further remonstrance was prevented by their being 
 both dragged away, and conducted to the lock-up cell, 
 into which they were on the point of being roughly 
 pushed, when Charles, who was much more au fait in 
 Hich cases than his companion, contrived to stop this pro- 
 ceeding by insinuating a crown piece into the hand of the 
 man who had hold of him. 
 
646 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 “We don’t like to be in the dark, all night, my good 
 fellow,” he observed, “and so just let us us go back to the 
 other room, will you ?” 
 
 “ Well, I don’t want to behave unhandsome,” replied 
 the fellow ; “ and, as you seem to be gentlemen, why, if 
 you’ll be quiet and peaceable, you see, you may as 
 well sit by the fire, for all I know.” 
 
 Heartily glad to be spared some hours’ confinement in 
 the small and dirty place which had struck him with 
 horror at the first glance, Denzil readily gave the desired 
 assurance of good behaviour, and they were allowed to 
 return to the outer room, which was now cleared of all 
 but the night-constable and his attendants. 
 
 Denzil, inexperienced as he was, was too quick-sighted 
 not to perceive the vast revolution in his favour which the 
 well-timed douceur of Charles had brought about, and 
 now no longer withheld by delicacy from purchasing, by 
 the same means, all the information he wanted, as to the 
 course he should pursue, to avoid, if possible, the trouble 
 and disgrace of appearing before a magistrate, he drew 
 his purse from his pocket, and laying a guinea on the 
 table, by which he was seated, desired the man to whom 
 he had before spoken, to treat his companions with what 
 they liked to take, and keep the rest himself. 
 
 “ Well, I’m sure it’s a great pity a gentleman like you, 
 should be locked up for such a trifle,” he observed. 
 “ Why, in the name of wonder, didn’t you make it up 
 \vith the Charlies, before they gave the charge against 
 you ? — A few shillings among them, would have healed all 
 their wounds and bruises, and you might have gone home 
 quiet and comfortable.’” 
 
 “ They should have had my heart’s blood first I” ex- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 64.7 
 
 claimed Charles, with vehemence, “ the insolent scoun- 
 drels !” 
 
 Denzil, too, was indignant at the idea of paying the 
 fellows who had acted with such arbitrary violence — but, 
 if there were any other means of procuring their liberty — 
 Why, you see, if you know anybody hereabouts, 
 that would come and be answerable for you — I can’t go 
 myself — but I can find a man, I dare say, that’ll go for a 
 trifle, and let ’em know — or, if you’ll write a note, he 
 can take it.” 
 
 The materials for writing were placed before them, 
 and Denzil, after a few minutes’ consideration, addressed 
 a few lines to Mr. Dormer, in which he stated his situa- 
 tion, and begged of him to devise some means of releas- 
 ing him from it, without letting Earl Raeburn know 
 what had happened. 
 
 Another bribe secured a messenger, and in a short 
 time two respectable tradesmen in the neighbourhood 
 presented themselves to answer for the appearance of 
 Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Levison, to meet any charge 
 that might be preferred against them, and they w^ere 
 allowed to depart. 
 
 The anxiety and confusion attendant on the novel cir- 
 cumstances in which he had been placed, had hitherto 
 prevented Denzil’s reflecting much on the cause of all 
 that had happened ; but when he at length found himself 
 freed fi*om a scene so abhorrient to his feelings at all times, 
 but especially so at the present moment — when his mind 
 was occupied with subjects of such mournful interest — he 
 could not help angrily reprehending Charles’s levity, 
 when, as they were on the point of parting, the latter 
 observed that he would now annoy that impudent, jealous 
 
'J'lIE c;irsY -MOTH I K. 
 
 Gt8 
 
 fool, Mackenzie, worse than he had CYer done before, 
 adding, 
 
 ‘‘ I never had any serious design upon his wife, though 
 she certainly is a devilish pretty woman; but now I 
 should glory in — by the bye, I wonder whether he will 
 appear to make out the complaint against us, to-morrow — 
 he sneaked off, as soon as he saw he had succeeded in 
 getting us laid hold of.” 
 
 ‘‘ I hope not,” returned Denzil, earnestly, “ for your 
 sake I hope not — though, for my own, I ought to wish it, 
 for the women must vindicate me from being in the 
 slightest degree connected with your folly — I will call it 
 by no worse name — because I trust and hope sincerely 
 that you would not, for a moment, interrupt the domestic 
 peace ” 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, dear Mr. Charles, I’m so glad I’ve met you ! — 
 My master sent me to see whether it would be necessary 
 for him to come to get you out of the watchhouse — for 
 Mrs. Charles Levison has been in hysterics, and Miss 
 Fanny not much better, ever since they heard ” 
 
 “ And how the devil did they hear?” interrupted 
 Charles, angrily. 
 
 It was Mr. Levison’s old servant, Thomas, from whom 
 this interruption proceeded, and who now stood in breath- 
 less amazement surveying, by the light of the lamps, their 
 swollen and disfigured countenances. 
 
 ‘‘ Why, sir,” he replied, ‘‘ old Mackenzie, the up- 
 holsterer, called on master, who had sent for him, indeed, 
 to settle his bill, before we go — and so, afraid he’d lose 
 master’s custom, he up and told how you and Mr. Den- 
 zil had been but, lank have mercy, it’ll never do for 
 
 them to see you in such a condition ! There’s a doctor’s 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 649 
 
 shop over the way — do, pray, step over and have some- 
 thing done to your faces, and Til go home in the mean 
 
 time, and prepare them to Bless me, it would kill Miss 
 
 Fanny outright, poor thing, now her spirits are so weak, 
 to see Mr. Denzil in such a plight ! And poor Mrs. 
 Charles, too, — dear, dear, that ever I should see two 
 young gentlemen ” 
 
 “ Pshaw, ifs a mere trifle !” replied Charles, feeling' 
 his face and head, to ascertain the extent of the bumps 
 and bruises he had got ; ‘‘ but I should certainly like to 
 get rid of some of this dirt and blood, before I face the 
 women ; and so I think I had better go home with Den- 
 zil, and you can send Dick over with some clothes in the 
 morning.” 
 
 Denzil knew not well how to object to this plan, though 
 he shrank from the thought of taking — to the dwelling 
 which seemed so sacred in his eyes, by being the deposi- 
 tary of his mothePs cold remains, — the cold-hearted, 
 thoughtless, and still half-intoxicated being, with whom 
 he was now thoroughly disgusted. But he was spared 
 the pain of uttering a refusal ; for Thomas, who from his 
 long services had acquired a right of speaking his senti- 
 ments, and giving his advice in affairs of moment, now 
 strongly objected to this plan, observing, that unless he 
 returned now, the family would never be persuaded but 
 that things were much worse than they really were. 
 
 “ And, goodness knows,” continued the old man, “ but 
 that’s bad enough, to see you both in such a pickle, and 
 in such a bad cause, too ! Two gentlemen, to go to de- 
 mean themselves by laying schemes to entrap poor trades- 
 men’s wives and sisters ! As to Mr. Denzil, as master says, 
 who could ever have thought it of him — and you, Mr. 
 
 4 o 
 
650 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Charles, that’s got such a nice, good-huniourecl, pretty 
 creature of your own ” 
 
 “ But tell me, Thomas,” interrupted Denzil, in astonish- 
 ment and alarm, “surely they did not dare say I was 
 guilty of ” 
 
 G Why, I don’t know exactly what was said,” Mr. Den- 
 zil, replied the old man, gravely ; “ but this I do know — 
 tliat master sets it down that you’re much the worst of 
 the two — because, as he said, what business could you 
 have to be strolling about with Mr. Charles, considering 
 what’s but just happened — and besides, I know old Mac- 
 kenzie said that you had often been with Mr. Charles at 
 his shop, and that you came to draw his son off, that Mr. 
 Charles might have an opportunity of talking to his son’s 
 wife ; and that no doubt your purpose to-night was to 
 draw oft* the young sister.” 
 
 “ A pretty plan they’ve given us credit for,” exclaimed 
 Charles, bursting into a fit of laughter, while Denzil, in 
 a transport of indignation, sorrow, and shame, could only 
 utter — 
 
 “ And Fanny heard all this, too, asserted of me ?” 
 
 “ Why, yes, Mr. Denzil, I’m sorry to say she did — 
 and she took it to heart, too — and I’m sure she needn’t 
 have any thing now to vex her, for she has suffered 
 enough, gracious knows,” said old Thomas. 
 
 “ Well, I’m in a pretty scrape,” observed Charles, 
 after a few moments’ reflection, “ what would you advise 
 me to do, Denzil?” 
 
 “ I am afraid my advice, Charles, is of little conse- 
 quence to you — or neither you nor I should be suft'eriiig 
 as we now are ; but, I trust, to-morrow will explain, at 
 least, how far I deserve to be included in—” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 651 
 
 “ Oh, no — if s all me, of course ! I wonder when it 
 v/as ever otherwise ! — that Mr. Deiizil Montgomery was 
 perfectly immaculate, and Charles Levison the scape- 
 goat for all offences !” returned the latter, angrily. 
 
 “We will not discuss that point now,” returned Den- 
 zil ; “ good night — I shall go home, however you decide.” 
 
 With a heart agonised with a thousand contending' 
 emotions, he retraced his way back to Brompton, for- 
 getting that Mr. Dormer had sent him a message by one 
 of his bail that he had better go to his (Mr. Dormer’s) 
 house for the night, than think of returning to Brompton. 
 
 Totally regardless of the hurts he had received, he was 
 upon the point of dismissing Ned, intending to pay a 
 parting visit to the chamber of death, when the exclama- 
 tion of the former, as he raised his half- closed eyes to his 
 master’s face, recalled to his recollection the circum- 
 stances which were beginning already to give place to 
 thoughts and feelings of a very different nature. 
 
 “ I have been involved in a quarrel, Ned, through the 
 folly of another,” he observed, without entering into ex- 
 planation ; “ but a little cold water and rest will make me 
 look less formidable, 1 hope, in the morning.” 
 
 “ I’m afeard I can give a pretty good guess what’s 
 been the matter,” observed Ned, with a sagacious look. 
 
 “Can you indeed, Ned?” replied his master; “you 
 must be clever, if you can.” 
 
 “ Why, then, I’se tell you, sir,” returned Ned, “you’ve 
 met with one as you’ve had no occasion to like nor to 
 love ” 
 
 “ You speak in riddles, Ned ! do pray tell me, plainly, 
 v/hom you mean ?” interrupted Denzil, impatiently. 
 
 “ Well, then, it is Mr. Delaney, as he calls himself,” 
 replied Ned. 
 
Tui: 
 
 IPSY MOTilEK. 
 
 
 “ Delaney !” repeated Denzil, “ why should you think 
 so?” 
 
 Because IVe seen him,” said Ned, more than once 
 sin’ we’ve been here ; and, moreover, he left a letter di- 
 rected to one that’ll never read it now, poor thing ! It 
 was left yesterday morning, just after she started in the 
 coach that I fetched her — little did I think, when I 
 helped her into it ” 
 
 “ But the letter, Ned,” interrupted his master, greatly 
 affected at the tone of natural feeling in which the simple 
 lad uttered his regret, “ why did you not give it to me 
 before ?” 
 
 “ I may as well tell the truth at once,” returned Ned ; 
 
 I guessed there was no good in it, for the poor lady 
 herself charged me, when he first called here, two days 
 ago, not to let you know that he had been.” 
 
 And did my mother, then, see him?” demanded 
 Denzil, in astonishment. 
 
 ‘‘ No,” replied Ned, “she was not up; and I guess he 
 wanted money, for he wrote a few words on a slip of 
 paper, and sent it up by Sarah ; and presently she came 
 down, and gave him some money wrapped up and sealed, 
 but never a word of writing to it — for Sarah told me her 
 poor mistress tried to write, but her hand trembled so, 
 she could not hold a pen. He didn’t open the paper while 
 he was here, but Sarah told me she saw her mistress fold 
 ten guineas in it, and she was told to say to him that her 
 mistress could do no more at present. He made no an- 
 swer, but yesterday he called again— and, when I said she 
 was gone out, he looked as if he didn’t believe it, and then 
 he told me to give her that letter — but not to let you see 
 it. I had a great mind to refuse it, and tell him there could 
 be no good in it, if you wasn’t to see it — but he walked 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEIG 
 
 (353 
 
 off in a great hurry, and I put the letter av/ay, intending 
 to — but no matter, it can do no harm for you to see it 
 
 now, if it’s he that’s been the cause of ” 
 
 No, no — I know nothing of him, Ned, I assure you,” 
 returned his master. 
 
 The letter was produced, and Denzil, with mingled 
 indignation and horror, read the following lines, which 
 were directed 
 
 ‘‘ To Mrs. Montgomery. 
 
 “ Elinor, 
 
 ‘‘ When I humbled myself to request of you 
 the loan of fifty pounds, to enable your aunt and myself 
 to proceed to Ireland, I little thought you would insult 
 me by sending the sum you did, with the declaration, 
 (which I know to be false,) that you could do no more. 
 I tell you candidly, at once, that you know I am in pos- 
 session of secrets which your son and yourself would be 
 glad to bury for ever in oblivion — but which shall 
 certainly be revealed, in full daylight, unless you send me 
 what I require^ You must be very conscious that, though 
 twenty years or more have passed since, it is not yet too 
 late to bring forward the woman for whose apprehension, 
 if I recollect aright, a hundred pounds’ reward was 
 offered ! I think, therefore, I am very moderate, when I 
 promise that, if the sum of fifty pounds is brought forward 
 when I call for it, which will be to-morrow, (if I can 
 ascertain that you are alone) you shall never hear any 
 more on the subject from 
 
 “ Dennis Delaney.” 
 
654 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Wretch ! monster !” exclaimed Denzil, as he crushed 
 the vile scrawl, with the intention of throwing it behind 
 the fire, “the hand of Heaven has defeated your vile 
 purpose ! Your intended victim is beyond the reach of 
 your persecutions and artifice 
 
 “ I suppose, sir,” said Ned, as he left the room, “if he 
 should come again, you would not wish to see him?” 
 
 “ Certainly not,” returned Denzil, “ I hare seen quite 
 enough — too much of them all, Ned.” 
 
 “ Ah, then. I’m right, after all ! It was some of the set, 
 that you met with, to-night ?” observed Ned. 
 
 Denzil saw that poor Ned would not go to bed satisfied, 
 unless he heard how it came about that he had returned 
 in such a state, and he therefore replied 
 
 “ You are mistaken, my good lad, — it is in consequence 
 of interfering to save Mr. Charles Levison from the 
 effects of his folly, that I got into this fray — but it was 
 not at all connected with those people.” 
 
 “ Mr Charles !” repeated Ned. “ Ah, I’d quite forgot 
 to tell you that Mr. Delaney asked me if I could give him 
 Mr. Charles Levison’s direction in town, but I said I 
 knew nothing about it.” 
 
 “ That was perfectly right!” replied his master, his 
 heart thrilling with indignation, at this further proof of 
 Delaney’s cupidity ; for what could he want with Charles, 
 but to endeavour to make him subservient to his views. 
 
 Determined to put Charles on his guard against this 
 wretched and unprincipled man, he resolved not to destroy 
 the note which the latter had addressed to his mother, as 
 he had at first intended ; and, having dismissed his servant, 
 he retired, to try to forget for a few hours the feverish 
 scenes in which he had been engaged. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 655 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 I confess to have fail’d — 
 
 Fortune is female : from my youth her favours 
 Were not withheld — ihe fault was mine, to hope 
 Her former smiles again at this late hour. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 PuNCTUiiL to the hour appointed, Henzil drove up in 
 a hackney coach to the public office in Marlborough-street, 
 where he found Mr. Dormer, and a gentleman whom he 
 introduced as his solicitor, already waiting. Though con- 
 vinced, in his own mind, that there was no necessity for 
 this, Denzil could not hut feel extremely grateful for this 
 proof of attention and friendship on the part of Mr. Dor- 
 mer, to whom he now, as briefly as possible, explained all 
 that had taken place on the preceding evening. 
 
 “ I am very happy to find it is nothing worse,” ob- 
 served Mr. Dormer. “ Do not mistake me, Denzil — I 
 did not mistrust you, but I was fearful that Charles — but 
 liere he comes, and by his looks seems to have already 
 pretty well paid the penalty of his folly.” 
 
 Charles, indeed, looked most pitiably — for, in addition 
 to the marks of the blows he had received, the feverish 
 effects of the liquor he had taken were very evident in his 
 appearance; indeed, the depression of spirits he displayed 
 was so unusual to him, that Denzil could scarcely be per- 
 suaded but that some additional cause existed for it. 
 
 “ They are all well, I hope, at home?” he observed, 
 speaking in a low voice, while Mr. Dormer’s attention 
 
656 
 
 TIiE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 was attracted, another way, by a crowd which was for- 
 cing into the office, accompanying some one charged with 
 a criminal offence. 
 
 Faith, I don’t know any thing about them,” replied 
 Charles, ‘‘ for I never went home, after all.” 
 
 ‘‘ Good heavens ! where, then, have you passed the 
 night?” exclaimed Denzil. 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, do not ask me,” he replied, impatiently ; “ it was 
 all your fault, or I should have been with you at Bromp- 
 ton, and have saved ” 
 
 We are likely, I am afraid, to be detained here some 
 time,” observed Mr. Dormer, who rejoined them at 
 this moment, having been drawn away to incjuire the 
 cause of the great bustle and rush into the office. “ It is 
 well,” he continued, if we have not to stay in this 
 horrible place an hour or two longer — for I understand 
 the prisoner who has just been brought into the office, is 
 charged with an attempt to murder in a gambling house, 
 and there will be, perhaps, a long examination.” 
 
 Denzil would have persuaded him to leave them, and 
 return home at once ; but Mr. Dormer was too anxious 
 to see the business settled, especially as Mackenzie and his 
 wife and sister were now present, evidently with the 
 intention of preferring some charge, or abetting the 
 complaints of the watchmen. 
 
 Charles had seated himself on a bench behind, and 
 Denzil, as he turned to speak to him, was struck with 
 surprise at the look of consternation and affright which 
 was visible in his countenance 
 
 What is the matter, Charles ?” he exclaimed, surely, 
 the appearance of those people does not alarm you ! They 
 jan ” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 657 
 
 “ No, no,” interrupted Charles, “ I was not thinking of 
 
 them, but of one Denzil, did you not see the person 
 
 who was taken in there,” pointing to the inner office, — 
 “ as a prisoner just now ?” 
 
 “ No,” replied Denzil, in amazement, ‘‘ I saw the 
 crowd — but my attention was called away — but why do 
 you ask? do you know — ” 
 
 “Yes, I do!” he interrupted, “until day-light this 
 morning I was in his company, and now I behold him 
 charged as a murderer I” 
 
 “ Merciful Heaven ! to what dangers do you expose 
 yourself, Charles !” exclaimed Denzil. “ Then you were in 
 a gaming house all night ?” 
 
 “ Yes, but I will never enter one again !” he replied. 
 “ I was vexed and mad at your leaving me last night,” he 
 continued, “ and, just at that moment, a fellow that I 
 knew accosted me — I was ripe for any mischief, and, 
 having contrived to give old Thomas the slip, I accom- 
 panied my acquaintance to a house in Bury-street, where 
 1 had several times before met him. I did not mean to 
 play, but merely to look on ; Browning, however, tor- 
 mented me into it at last, and I won fifty pounds in the 
 first hour ; but after that — but that was not what I was 
 going to tell you,” he added, suddenly recollecting him- 
 self, “ the person that is now in that room as a prisoner 
 was seated by me — but I should not perhaps have noticed 
 him so particularly, but that I heard him called by a name 
 which both you and I have reason to remember ; and, 
 indeed, I was on the point of asking him, two or three 
 times, some questions that should satisfy me whether he 
 was the same Delaney that-—” 
 
 4 p 
 
G58 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ‘‘ Delaney ! gracious heavens, can it be possible !” ex - 
 claimed Denzil. 
 
 ‘‘ Nay, I do not know that it is him — only it seemed 
 probable ; and I thought, too, I could trace a faint like- 
 ness; — but you can soon satisfy yourself^ and hear the 
 particulars, if you like to go into the office.’’ 
 
 Denzil did not wait a second intimation, blit pushing 
 his way through the crowd, he reached the officer who 
 guarded the door; and, by the douceur of half-a-crown, 
 was accommodated with a place where he could have a 
 full view of the prisoner, who was at this moment placed 
 at the bar. 
 
 A single glance was sufficient — it was indeed Delaney; 
 and Denzil felt horror-struck, almost to fainting, as he 
 beheld the well-known countenance, which he had once 
 thought an index only of kind and manly and liberal 
 feelings; but in which now were apparent only the 
 hypocrisy and artifice of the hardened villain, struggling 
 to conceal, under assumed calmness and lofty demeanor, 
 the consciousness of guilt and the fear of its punishment. 
 
 Most willingly would Denzil have retreated — but it 
 was now impossible for him to move from the spot ; for 
 every one was crowding forward to obtain a sight of the 
 person charged with such an awful crime as murder, and 
 he was compelled to remain during the examination of 
 the witnesses. 
 
 Delaney had, it appeared, won a large sum of money; 
 and was about to quit the table, when he was charged by 
 one of the losers with having cheated him, and with 
 having at that moment false dice, which he had secreted 
 in his sleeve. The former, of course, denied the charge; 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 659 
 
 but his opponent, who had lost considerably, was not to 
 be satisfied with mere words ; and, finding Delaney reso- 
 lutely determined on carrying olF his winnings, he sprang 
 across the table and seized him by the collar, declaring he 
 should not stir till he had refunded the whole of his ill- 
 gotten gains. 
 
 A violent scuffle had ensued, and Delaney, at length, 
 finding himself likely to be overpowered, drew a knife 
 from his pocket, and stabbed the man who held him in 
 the side, and then retreated towards the staircase back- 
 wards, declaring he would sacrifice any one who attempted 
 to lay hands on him ; but, it seemed, he was not aware 
 that the porter, who had been called up to assist, was at 
 that moment behind him, and he was instantly knocked 
 down and the knife secured. 
 
 The person who was wounded, was represented to be 
 in a very dangerous state, and unable to attend. 
 
 Delaney listened to the evidence with the most intense 
 earnestness ; and, when it was concluded, addressed the 
 magistrate with apparent ease and calmness. 
 
 He declared that he was a person of respectable cha- 
 racter and connexions — that he had been accidentally 
 introduced to the house in which the sad affray had 
 taken place — that, so far from having won any consider- 
 able sum, he had been on the whole a loser, during the 
 evening: that it was true he had a large sum in his pos- 
 session, which he had foolishly carried in with him, and 
 that when the person who attacked him accused him of 
 what he knew to be false, he considered it a premeditated 
 plan to rob him, and had therefore, to defend himselfi 
 employed the knife, which he did not use until he was 
 actually thrown down, and nearly strangled, while resist- 
 
660 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ing* the attempt to take his money, which he considered 
 he had a right to defend. 
 
 He was in the act of concluding by another vaunting 
 boast of his unblemished character for honour and inte- 
 grity, to which, he said, he could bring more than a hundred 
 noblemen and gentlemen to testify, but that he had been 
 in England only a few days — when his eye suddenly 
 rested on Denzil’s countenance, and he started, turned 
 pale, and became silent for some moments — then added, 
 “ There is a gentleman, I now see, in court, — a gentleman 
 of high character and probity, who will, I am sure, cheer- 
 fully confirm the account I have given of myself. He 
 has known me and my family for a considerable period, 
 both in England and on the Continent, where I have left 
 them, intending to return immediately, and remain there 
 for life.” 
 
 All eyes were instantly turned on Denzil, who was 
 pointed out to observation by the courteous bow with 
 which Delaney greeted him ; and at this moment a man, 
 who was near the magistrate, whispered something to 
 him. 
 
 “ Your reference appears rather unfortunate,” remark- 
 ed the latter, addressing the prisoner ; “ for, I understand, 
 the gentleman of ‘ high honour and probity,’ whom you 
 have called upon, is himself a prisoner.” 
 
 “ A prisoner !” repeated Delaney, with a look of 
 demoniac malice, which proved that, in the gratification 
 the discovery gave him, he had forgotten the evil effect it 
 might have on his own case. 
 
 Denzil impetuously pressed forward — he was about to 
 utter a vindication of himself — to assert that he was, in 
 fact, the injured party, and that the magistrate had no 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 661 
 
 right to cast a slur upon him, from the circumstance of his 
 having been, as would be seen, unjustly accused ; — but he 
 was instantly silenced by the orders of the magistrate, 
 who peremptorily observed that it would be quite time 
 enough for him (Denzil) to speak, when it came to his turn. 
 
 Boiling with indignation at what he considered unjus- 
 tifiable insult, and compelled to endure the laugh and 
 significant whispers of the crowd by whom he was sur- 
 rounded, Denzil scarcely comprehended the remainder of 
 Delaney’s examination; and it was not until the latter 
 was led away in the custody of an officer, that his anxiety 
 returned to know what was the termination. 
 
 ‘‘ He is remanded,” whispered the officer, of whom 
 Denzil eagerly inquired the result; “but, come, you are 
 the next, and mind, now, what you are about — for he’s 
 well known as a regular gambler, and it won’t do you any 
 good that he has claimed acquaintance with you.” 
 
 Denzil had no time to reply, for he now found himself, 
 together with Charles, hustled forward to the spot which 
 Delaney had just been removed from. 
 
 Good heavens, was it possible that he, without having 
 committed the shadow of an offence, was thus to be de- 
 graded ! But he had little time to reflect—for the wit- 
 nesses against them were already arrayed, and he heard, 
 with indignation and astonishment, a tale repeated by the 
 first watchman, in which there was scarcely a word of 
 truth, and by which both he and Charles were represent- 
 ed as having committed a gross outrage upon two defence- 
 less females ; — that the husband of one of them, and a 
 friend, having come to their rescue, they had been 
 knocked down and otherwise grievously ill-treated, and 
 that they (the watchmen) upon attempting to take the 
 
662 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 offenders into custody, had been also violently assaulted 
 and beaten. 
 
 With difficulty Denzil restrained himself to hear this 
 outrageous misrepresentation to the end — but again he 
 was silenced with a peremptory “ It is not your turn yet 
 to speak,” from the magistrate, while Mackenzie stepped 
 forward to confirm the tale of the watchmen; but though 
 very evidently disposed to make the most of the story 
 that he could, he was not prepared to go the lengths that 
 the watchmen had done. On the contrary, his complaints 
 were chiefly of the former annoyance he had suffered from 
 Mr. Levison’s determined pursuit of his wife — he said 
 that he believed he had struck the first blow on this 
 occasion; and, in short, by degrees, Mr. Turner (the 
 solicitor whom Mr. Dormer had brought) elicited from 
 him the whole truth, that he and his friend had com- 
 menced the assault on both parties, and that he had no 
 other reason to suppose his wife and her sister insulted, 
 than having seen Mr. Levison walking by their side, and 
 Mr. Montgomery behind them. 
 
 At Mr. Turner’s desire, the wife and her sister were 
 now brought forward, and with reluctance compelled to 
 admit the truth, that no insult had been offered, except 
 by Mr, Levison’s insisting on seeing them home; and 
 that Mr, Montgomery had not even spoken to them, but 
 had endeavoured to dissuade his companion from forcing 
 himself into their company. 
 
 Though thus cleared from the worst part of the charge 
 (as the magistrate avowed) there yet remained the sundry 
 blows and bruises which the watchmen pretended to have 
 received in the affray ; and to these, Denzil, who was at 
 length allowed to speak, could only allege the unpro- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 663 
 
 yoked ill-treatment which himself and his companion he.d 
 met with, from these worthy guardians of the peace ; in 
 proof of yvd)ich he adduced Mr. LevisoiVs disfigured face, 
 as well as his own; which, though of less formidable 
 appearance, still bore pretty strong marks of the violence 
 used against them. 
 
 “ Did the prisoners appear to have been drinking ?’^ 
 demanded the magistrate. 
 
 “Oh, yes, your worship, they were quite entirely 
 intosticated,'' was the ready reply. 
 
 “ Well, then, you are fined five shillings for drunken- 
 ness — and, for the charge of assault, you may settle it, if 
 you can, with these men, to whom you ought to have 
 surrendered yourselves without resistance, and who must 
 be protected in their duty. If they are not willing to 
 settle it, I shall bind you to appear at the sessions.” 
 
 Denzil would have expostulated — he would have ex- 
 claimed against the slander of accusing him of drunken- 
 ness, and protested he would never acknowledge its justice 
 by paying the fine; but the purse-strings of Charles were 
 already undrawn, another case was called on, and he was 
 hustled from the bar, before he could utter a Avord, and 
 found himself in the outer office, along Avitb his com- 
 panion and the watchmen, who said that they Avere “very 
 Avilling to settle it Avith the gernmen^ perwided the ge7n- 
 men would behave handsome, like gemmen^ and make 
 amends for 
 
 “You are a set of false-swearing vagabonds !” exclaimed 
 the enraged Denzil; “and; unless you will publicly 
 acknoAvledge that you have shamefully mis-represented 
 my conduct altogether ” 
 
 “ Psha ! what matters it, what such felloAvs say of us?” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 661 
 
 interrupted Charles, pushing him aside. Come here, 
 rny hearties, and let you and I see how we can settle this 
 matter. Let us hear now, first, how much you’ll have 
 the conscience to expect for that black eye, Pat, Avhich 1 
 suppose is at least a week old, though you swore I gave 
 it you last night !” 
 
 ‘‘ Faith, then, iv ye didn’t, it wasn’t your fault, yere 
 honour,” replied the watchman, for ye laid about ye in 
 as pretty style as I’d wish to see, considering your ho- 
 nour’s but a light weight, an’ had got rather too much of 
 the cratur. Indeed, then, it isn’t myself that would like 
 to take such another hating^ for five pounds.” 
 
 Five pounds ! five shillings, you mean, Paddy ?” said 
 Charles, who was evidently not displeased at the compli- 
 ment to his prowess, which the sly Irishman had insinu- 
 ated under the form of rebuke. 
 
 Indeed, then, I mane no such thing,” returned the 
 latter, “ an’ I’d be sorry to disgrace your honour so much 
 as to think ye meant it, either. There’s three ov us, 
 
 you see, an when we come to divide ” 
 
 Give them their demand, and let us get out of this 
 disgraceful scene,” observed Denzil ; “ if we are obliged 
 to pay these fellows for their villany, do it at once,” and 
 he put his purse into Charles’s hand. 
 
 “ Och, sure, then, there’s no compulsion to pay any- 
 thing,” observed the watchman, ‘‘an’ so, iv your honour 
 likes better, we’ll just go back an’ ye can put in bail- ” 
 
 “ Psha, come this way, we’ll settle it without him,” 
 observed Charles, drawing them aside. 
 
 In a few moments he returned to say that it was ail 
 arranged, and nothing remained but to go before the 
 magistrate and get their discharge. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 665 
 
 Again ! — must he again be subjected to the mortifica- 
 tion of appearing as a culprit ! — but it was of no avail 
 that Denzil gave vent to bis indignation, Charles assured 
 him that it was all folly to be so disturbed at what was 
 an every-day occurrence, and Mr. Dormer and bis so- 
 licitor both seconded the assurance ; yet, in spite of then: 
 all, Denzil’s cheeks were crimsoned with anger and vexa> 
 tion, when be again entered the office, and, in spite a 
 Charles’s remonstrances, he was about to utter an indig- 
 nant reply to the reprimand which the self-sufficient 
 magistrate chose gratuitously to annex to the order he 
 gave for their discharge, when he was suddenly arrested 
 in his purpose, by encountering the angry glance of Mr. 
 Levison the elder, who had, it appeared, at that moment 
 entered the office. 
 
 Denzil’s voice faltered, and the sentence died unfinished 
 on his lips ; while Charles, who also had discovered his 
 uncle, but pretended not to have done so, tried, by 
 hastily pushing his way through the crowd to the back of 
 the bar, to avoid the meeting with him. 
 
 Mr. Levison, however, aware it seemed of his pur- 
 pose, contrived to be at the door at the moment he was 
 about to pass through, followed by Denzil. 
 
 “ Do not alarm yourself, sir,” observed the old gentle- 
 man, “ I am not come to interrupt your pleasures, Mr. 
 Charles Levison, iior intrude myself upon you ! You 
 would not have seen me here, sir, but that a report had 
 reached St. James’s Place, that a murder had been com- 
 mitted in the house where you spent your night, and the 
 poor unfortunate girl who has the misfortune to call you 
 husband — — ” 
 
 Well, well, uucle,” interrupted Charles. 
 
 4 <3 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 GG6 
 
 “ Don’t call me uncle, sir ! I disclaim you ! I’ll have _ 
 nothing- to do with you ! I was in hopes that I should 
 see you in the road to the gallows, sir, or I would not 
 have come here !” exclaimed the old gentleman, who had 
 worked himself into a violent fit of passion — “ but I want 
 nothing to do with you ! I have done with you for 
 ever !” 
 
 Mr. Dormer, who at that moment came forward, at- 
 tempted now to address his old friend, but the latter 
 indignantly repulsed him — 
 
 “ I want nothing to say to you, Mr. Dormer,” he 
 angrily observed, “ you may act as you please, and so 
 will I !” — and without waiting for a reply, he hastened to 
 his carriage, which was waiting at the door for him, and 
 drove off without having condescended to take the slight- 
 est notice of Denzil, who, too much agitated to speak, 
 had only endeavoured to conciliate him by a respectful 
 bow. 
 
 “ Well, I am in a pretty hobble, that is certain !” said 
 Charles, as he took Denzil’s arm, and followed Mr. Dor- 
 mer out of the office ; “ and that grinning monkey, the 
 upholsterer, too, was close behind, listening to all my 
 uncle said. If we had been any where else but where 
 we were, I would have knocked the fellow down !” 
 
 Denzil, however, was deaf to all his complaints — for 
 he thought, at that moment, only of the look of utter 
 indifference and contempt with which Mr, Levison, 
 senior, had received *his salutation ; and all other evils 
 were forgotten in the chilling conviction that it seemed to 
 convey to his bosom. 
 
 And Fanny, too,” he observed, unconscious that he 
 was speaking aloud, will hear of me as a participator in 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 667 
 
 this disgraceful scene — and at such a moment, too ! Good 
 heavens, what an evil destiny seems ever to rise up 
 between me and ” 
 
 ‘‘ Psha, nonsense !” interrupted Charles ; ‘‘ what a 
 novice you are, to make such a serious matter of what, 
 after all, is a mere trifle ! No girl will think the worse of 
 her lover, for getting into a row^ and that’s all that can 
 he said of you, at last, — besides, I’ll explain it all to 
 Fanny, the first opportunity, and tell her you were not 
 to blame.” 
 
 Vexed with himself for having betrayed the subject of 
 his reflexions, to one so little capable of participating in 
 his feelings, Denzil made no reply to this elegant exor- 
 dium ; and Mr. Dormer having concluded his conversa- 
 tion with the solicitor, who had taken his leave, now 
 turned back and joined them. 
 
 Charles, however, though he affected to carry all off 
 with great nonchalance^ as a mere trifle, shrank abashed 
 from Mr. Dormer’s cool and cutting' remarks upon his 
 conduct during the last twenty-four hours. 
 
 “ And pray, Mr. Levison,” continued the former, “ if 
 I may presume to question one who appears so deter- 
 mined to reject the advice and assistance of a friend — 
 what do you now intend to do with yourself? Your 
 uncle’s doors, it seems likely, are again closed upon you, 
 and ” 
 
 “ There is only one thing I can do,” interrupted 
 Charles, petulantly, “ and that will be, to seek my last 
 habitation in the Serpentine — for the whole world seems 
 set against me !” 
 
 “ There is no one set against you, but your own 
 folly !” returned Mr. Dormer, in a gentle tone. 
 
668 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 L don’t know but that other people have quite as 
 much right to be blamed for folly, as I liave,” replied the 
 incorrigible Charles. I’m sure my uncle fairly drove 
 me out yesterday, by his storming, and raving, and 
 lamenting over the disappointment of his hopes and his 
 projects. Even poor aunt Rachel could not help quar- 
 relling with him ; and as to Fanny, she dared not show 
 her face, for he was ready to knock her down, because 
 he said he could read secret joy in her heart, at having 
 escaped being a countess, which he swears she shall be, 
 or nothing.” 
 
 “ He is an old , but no matter,” continued Mr. 
 
 Dormer, suppressing a smile : “ his temper is a poor ex- 
 cuse for your ruining yourself, and driving every body 
 mad that has the misfortune to be connected with you !” 
 
 It was not until Denzil was actually in the room in 
 which the Earl of Raeburn was sitting with Miss Somer- 
 ville, that he recollected that his visit was totally unex- 
 pected by the former ; and that both his own appearance, 
 and that of his companion, would render a disclosure of 
 the last night’s events unavoidable. 
 
 He had not, indeed, when he mechanically took the 
 road with Mr. Dormer, reflected whither it would lead 
 him ; and, when he suddenly started from his reverie, on 
 arriving at Mr. Dormer’s door, the latter Would not 
 allow him to depart. 
 
 Denzil had, in fact, seen that which had escaped both 
 Charles and Mr. Dormer, but which had effectually ba- 
 nished all other thoughts or recollections from his mind. 
 
 In the carriage, wliich had been waiting a few yards 
 from the police office-door, and to which Mr. Levison 
 had hurried with the greatest celerity, after his short but 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 6(39 
 
 severe address to' his nephew — two females were seated, 
 who were evidently awaiting the old gentleman’s return 
 with great anxiety and impatience; and, though they be- 
 held him come out of the office, followed by Charles and 
 Denzil, the latter had recognised Fanny, and saw, too, 
 that the recognition was mutual. A deep blush indeed 
 had dyed the pallid cheek which he gazed on so intently, 
 and he saw that, as the carriage turned the corner, again 
 her eyes were fixed on him ; but she instantly drew a 
 thick black veil over her face, and it was that action 
 which had effaced the transport he had felt at beholding 
 her. He fancied there was scorn, contempt, aversion, in 
 the manner in which she had concealed her features from 
 his ardent gaze ; and yet, in the first transient glance, he 
 had thought very differently — he had caught the expres- 
 sion of her radiant eyes, and he believed — he was sure — 
 they beamed on him with pleasure ! 
 
 It was these contrary feelings, fears, and doubts, which 
 had so wholly engrossed him until this moment, that he 
 was entirely unprepared for the expressions of alarm and 
 amazement with which he was greeted by both the Earl 
 and Miss Somerville. 
 
 It is all my fault, all my doing,” said Charles, in a 
 tone of mingled vexation and sorrow, which seemed at 
 once to have the effect of disarming Mr. Dormer’s resent- 
 ment, and prevented all farther enquiries on the part of 
 Earl Raeburn, in the presence of the former ; who, how- 
 ever, far from shrinking from the avowal of his folly, 
 soon left little to be told, except the first cause of “ the 
 row,” as he elegantly styled it, in which he had contrived 
 to involve his companion. 
 
 Hurt and vexed as the Earl and Mr. Dormer both 
 
670 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 were, at the rnortihcation to which Devizll had been 
 exposed, tliey were little disposed to pity the offender, or 
 sympathize in the uneasiness he betrayed, as to the result 
 with his uncle. 
 
 But to Denzil there appeared much more in Charles’s 
 manner than mere sorrow and repentance for his folly. 
 He had, it was true, seen him before suffer extreme de- 
 pression, and had heard him utter similar expressions of 
 self-condemnation, which had been as speedily effaced by 
 the first temptation ; but there was now a wildness in 
 his look, and a restlessness of manner, which was evi- 
 dently the result of great mental excitation — much 
 greater, indeed, than Denzil thought it possible for him 
 to feel, unless there were some deeper cause than was 
 apparent. 
 
 ‘^You did not tell me, after all,” he observed, “whe- 
 ther the person charged ” 
 
 “ It was the same,” said Denzil, desirous of preventing 
 his saying any more on the subject, which, he knew, 
 could not fail to shock both the Earl and Mr. Dormer. 
 
 “ Good heavens ! it was Delaney, then !” repeated 
 Charles, who evidently did not comprehend Denzil’s 
 wish to say no more. “ His race is run, then — for I 
 heard one of the officers say, he would be sure to be 
 hung — there was not a chance for him !” 
 
 An explanation was now inevitable, and increased still 
 more the gloom and depression under which all were 
 labouring. 
 
 “ I believe he was not the only one there,” observed 
 Charles, suddenly, after a long pause, during which each 
 had been meditating, probably, on the same subject — “ I 
 believe,” he repeated, “ he was not the only rascal in the 
 
 room. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 071 
 
 “ I am sure he was not,” observed Mr. Dormer, 
 drily. 
 
 Charles rose and paced the room, as if writhing under 
 the remark, which he felt he but too well deserved. 
 
 ‘‘ Where do you sleep to-night, Denzil?” he observed, 
 stopping suddenly before the latter. 
 
 “ At Brompton, of course,” returned Denzil. 
 
 ‘‘ Well, then, you will give me shelter with you for 
 to-night — will you not ?” 
 
 “ Certainly,” replied Denzil, alarmed at the strange 
 wildness and incoherence of his look and manner. 
 
 “ I hope Denzil does not mean to walk there again,” 
 observed Mr. Dormer, significantly. 
 
 “ No,” returned Charles, without seeming to compre- 
 hend the insinuation, “ I cannot walk — indeed, I feel too, 
 too unwell !” — And he threw himself into a chair, and 
 put his hand to his forehead. 
 
 “ I fear you are very unwell, Charles,” said Denzil, 
 anxiously. 
 
 Mr. Dormer was now roused into more attentive ob- 
 servation of him. 
 
 “ You will be my guest for to-night, young man,” he 
 observed ; ‘‘ you are not fit to go so far.” 
 
 “ Oh, yes, yes, I am !” he replied, hastily starting up. 
 “ I must go — I want to talk to Denzil — he is the only 
 
 one who can feel for me — who will yes, yes, I* must 
 
 go ! We will go at once, shall we not?” 
 
 “ You must wait at any rate, until a coach can be got,” 
 said Mr. Dormer, and he rang the bell for a servant to 
 procure one. 
 
 Charles silently acquiesced, nor did he utter another 
 word, until its arrival was announced. 
 
672 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ God bless you, Rosa !” he exclaimed, starting up, 
 and taking both the hands of Miss Somerville. 
 
 “ Good heavens, Mr. Levison ! you are in a high 
 fever !” she exclaimed, shrinking from his burning touch. 
 ‘‘ Indeed, you had better remain here.” 
 
 “ No, no,” he replied, in a hurried tone, “ I shall be 
 better for the air I Good night to you all,” and, without 
 waiting for any farther remonstrance, he rushed down 
 stairs, and was seated in the coach, before Denzil reached 
 the door. 
 
 Denzil,” he observed, as soon as they were in 
 motion, “ to no living creature but yourself would I 
 acknowledge what I am going to tell you ! Well, indeed, 
 might Mr. Dormer apply to me that epithet which I be- 
 stowed on Delaney to-night — but even he did not sus- 
 pect how grossly I have ” 
 
 ‘‘ You have been foolish and thouglitless, Charles,” 
 interrupted Denzil, ‘‘but you now see the effect of your 
 errors, and, I trust, this will be the last.” 
 
 “It will be the last !” muttered Charles, with peculiar 
 emphasis ; “ but, listen now to what I am going to tell 
 you — you know that I was in that cursed gambling house 
 last night, but you do not know all that it led to. I had 
 but a few pounds in my pocket — I ventured them, and 
 won considerably. There was a person came in, I think, 
 with Delaney; the man I had won of, would not play 
 any more — he was, in fact, cleared out — but this man, 
 this new comer, challenged me, and I sat down again. 
 He won all tliat I had in my possession, and more — for, 
 when I rose up from the table, I found I was indebted to 
 him tw'o hundred pounds. ‘ You can give me a check on 
 your banker,* he observed. As my evil genius would 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER* 
 
 673 
 
 have it, I had a cliecque in my pocket for twenty pounds, 
 which my uncle had given me in the morning — the alte- 
 ration of 20 to 200 was easy, and- ” 
 
 “ Surely, surely, you were not so mad, so—” Denzil 
 paused, in breathless agitation. 
 
 Yes, I did do it,” replied Charles, in a subdued tone. 
 
 He knew me to be Charles Levison, and therefore had 
 no suspicions but that all was right, and, indeed, I 
 scarcely then reflected on the consequences which might 
 — but I see it all now ! My uncle’s stern rejection of me 
 to-day, struck terror into my heart ! Should there be a 
 suspicion when the checque is presented — should there be 
 any investigation, I am lost !” 
 
 ‘‘ Charles — there is but one way left to save yourself 
 from disgrace !” exclaimed Denzil, after a moment’s re- 
 flection, “ Go, instantly — now, this moment, to your 
 uncle, and avow the truth — throw yourself on his mercy ! 
 You are certain of succeeding — his pride itself will in- 
 duce him, if forewarned, to avoid doing anything that 
 may involve you. Let me,” he continued, seizing the 
 check-string, order the man to drive to St. James’s 
 Place.” 
 
 Charles was silent, and Denzil gave the necessary 
 order. 
 
 I will wait the result,” observed the latter, when 
 they arrived at the corner. ‘‘You can get out here ; and 
 if you do not return in an hour, I shall conclude that all 
 is settled, and that you are once more restored to your 
 home.” 
 
 Charles seemed scarcely to attend to what he said, 
 but, with an air of utter abstraction, obeyed the directions 
 
 4 * R 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 km 
 
 of the agitated Deiizil, who, from the coach window, 
 watched him until he saw him admitted, and the door 
 closed. 
 
 A quarter of an hour elapsed without his return, and 
 Denzil began to hope that the measure he had advised 
 had succeeded, when suddenly he beheld the hall-door 
 opened, and two or three of the servants ran into the 
 street, in evident alarm and confusion. 
 
 “ What is the matter ?” exclaimed Denzil, forcing 
 open the coach door, and jumping on to the pavement, at 
 the moment one of them came running past. 
 
 “ Oh, Mr. Denzil — my master, Mr. Charles !” 
 
 Denzil waited to hear no more, but rushed into the 
 house — the door of which was left wide open, and the 
 hall unattended. 
 
 The loud screams of female voices directed him at 
 once to the drawing-room, and he rushed into the midst 
 of the terrified group who were collected there. 
 
 Ou the ground Charles was extended, evidently in the 
 agonies of death — and by his side knelt Rachel and 
 Fanny, both endeavouring to stanch the blood that was 
 flowing from his neck, while the other females loudly 
 screamed for assistance, with the exception of the unfor- 
 tunate wife, who had lost all consciousness of the horrid 
 scene in happy insensibility. Motionless, and apparently 
 speechless with terror, Mr. Levison sat in his usual place, 
 as if he had been incapable of rising, while his eyes were 
 fixed on the wretched victim of passion and dissipation, who 
 had thus violently closed his thoughtless career. 
 
 Denzil stood for an instant horror-struck, and then, 
 hastily throwing himself on his knees by the side of 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 6*75 
 
 Fanny, he endeavoured to second her efforts to stop the 
 deluge of blood which was flowing, without uttering a 
 word. 
 
 “ It is useless — ^pray, pray, quit this scene I” he at 
 length uttered, in a low voice. 
 
 Fanny looked eagerly in his face, as if only at that 
 moment recognizing him, and then, making a vain 
 attempt to rise, sank back fainting on the floor. 
 
 A surgeon at this moment arrived, but his assistance 
 was useless to the immediate object of his attention— 
 for Charles had ceased to breathe, before he entered the 
 room. 
 
 “ Can — can you save him ? My boy — my poor boy !” 
 exclaimed Mr. Levison, awaking out of the trance which 
 seemed to have rendered him until this moment incapable 
 of uttering a word. 
 
 The sound of his voice recalled Fanny to herself — she 
 cast another shuddering look at the corpse, and then, 
 hastily rising, threw herself into his arms and wept 
 bitterly. 
 
 Go to Emma, my dear,” he observed, comprehending 
 instantly the melancholy truth, that his nephew was past 
 all human assistance. “ Go to Emma — poor thing, she 
 requires all your help.” 
 
 “ It will be better to remove her, before she recovers 
 her recollection,” said Denzil, hastily. 
 
 Mr. Levison started at the sound of his voice 
 
 ‘‘ Begone, sir, instantly !” he exclaimed, sternly. 
 ‘‘ How dare you intrude ” 
 
 “ Father, dear father !” said Fanny, in a tone of 
 entreaty, throwing her arms around his neck. 
 
 Well, well, my child,” he replied, “ I will not now 
 
676 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 say anything' — this, indeed, is not a time for resentment 
 
 — but I trust that Mr. 1 know not now by what 
 
 title 1 am to address him,” looking at Denzil. 
 
 “ By no other title, sir, than your benevolence bestowed 
 upon me,” exclaimed Denzil, with great agitation. 
 
 “Young man! young man!” returned Mr. Levison, 
 “ this will no longer impose upon me. I have but one 
 favour to ask of you, in return for those which you are 
 pleased to acknowledge having received at my hands ; 
 and that is, that you will leave us to our sorrows. They 
 are, God knows, heavy enough I” and- he hid his face on 
 Fanny’s neck, and sobbed bitterly. 
 
 “ God of heaven ! how have I deserved this ?” ex- 
 claimed Denzil, rising from the side of the corpse, by 
 which he had till this moment been kneeling. “ Were I, 
 indeed,” he continued, with energy, “the most abandoned 
 wretch on the face of the earth — with such an awful sight 
 as this before my eyes — I should not dare dissemble or 
 deny my guilt ! But, having that before me, I do most 
 solemnly deny that I have, by one voluntary act, forfeited 
 that friendship — that esteem, which I once could boast” 
 
 “ Brother, surely you will not let the poor boy go 
 away in this despair !” said Miss Rachel, lifting her eyes, 
 which had been hidden with her handkerchief, “ we have 
 reason enough already. Heaven knows, to repent being 
 harsh and severe ” 
 
 “ Aye, there — there— there !” interrupted Mr, Levi- 
 son, in an agony of mingled grief and resentment, “ I 
 knew that I should be reproached as the cause of this — 
 the world, too — the world will believe it— they will con- 
 demn my severity as the cause ; and yet I did but what 
 I thought my duty. ^ Heaven knows my heart, I 
 
THE GIPSi’ MOTHER. 
 
 677 
 
 meant not to act with harshness, though I threat- 
 ened ” 
 
 “ No, no, my dear, dear father — you have never been 
 harsh — it is not your nature to be so,’^ said Fanny, 
 soothingly, “ my aunt did not, could not mean ” 
 
 “ I meant only that your father is wrong in driving 
 Denzil away in such despair,” observed the weeping 
 Rachel. “ I’m sure he looked as wild and as desperate, 
 when he went out of the room, as ever that poor boy that 
 lies there.” 
 
 Fanny uttered a convulsive shriek — the dreadful 
 thought that her aunt’s words had presented to her 
 imagination, completely annihilated the little fortitude 
 she had summoned, to endeavour to comfort her father ; 
 and, no longer able to controul her feelings, she uttered 
 the most piercing cries, invoking Denzil to return. In 
 an instant, the latter, who had not yet quitted the house, 
 was at her side, inquiring with agonized earnestness what 
 had occasioned this fresh alarm. 
 
 Nothing-nothing — but I am ill — I am weak,” ex- 
 claimed Fanny, “and I cannot bear to see you leave us 
 thus. My dear, dear father, for your poor Fanny’s sake,” 
 and she took his hand and endeavoured to join it with 
 Denzil’s, which held her’s in its trembling grasp. 
 
 “ Well, well, my child, for your sake, and for his own, 
 I consent to forgive all that has passed,” said Mr. Levison. 
 
 “ Forgive !” repeated Denzil, with unfeigned astonish- 
 ment. “ What have I done, sir, that such a term can be 
 applicable ” 
 
 “ Pardon me, Mr. Montgomery,” exclaimed Doctor 
 Rymer, the family physician, who now entered the room. 
 “ Pardon me, if I say, that, in the state of excitement all 
 
678 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 are in at the present moment, it will be far better to waive 
 all explanations and discussions. My good sir,” he con- 
 tinued, going up to Mr. Levison, and taking his hand, 
 “ you must quit this room — and you, ladies, pray let me 
 conduct you from this scene.” 
 
 “ Where is that poor girl ?” said Mr. Levison, look- 
 ing round for Emma, whom the servants had conveyed 
 to her own room. “ Oh, doctor, this is an awful sight !” 
 
 he continued, “ and it is me ” 
 
 “ Oh, no, no,” interrupted Denzil, eagerly, Charles 
 has been ill — frenzied, I may say, the whole day — the 
 want of rest, the excitement, and perhaps the blows he 
 received last night, together with the uneasiness of mind 
 he was suffering, had thrown him into a state of delirium, 
 long before he entered this house. During our ride 
 hither, his whole conversation was so wild and incohe- 
 rent, that I felt alarmed, though I never suspected ” 
 
 “ Oh, no, no, who could have suspected — who could 
 have thought,” interrupted Mr. Levison, shuddering, 
 ‘‘ even when he drew the knife from his pocket — I 
 thought it was but intended as an empty threat to intimi- 
 date me, for I believed that he was intoxicated, I knew 
 not that the unsteady pace and incoherent manner, which 
 I noticed from his first entrance, were the effects of ill- 
 ness. Yet it is a blessing to hear that it was so — that it 
 
 was the act of delirium, rather than ” 
 
 My dear sir, how could you for a moment doubt it?” 
 interrupted Doctor Rymer. “ I am myself a competent 
 witness to prove it — for I saw the unfortunate young man, 
 by accident, this very morning — and was so struck with 
 the appearance of his eyes, that I told him, unless he took 
 care of himself, he would have a serious attack, and 
 
THE GIPSV MOTHER. 
 
 679 
 
 recommended him to return home and let me bleed him 
 — but he would not consent.” 
 
 Mr. Levison seemed considerably relieved by this in- 
 formation, though his countenance and manner still be- 
 trayed great mental anguish ; and the doctor at length 
 succeeded in persuading him to quit the mournful scene. 
 
 “ No, no, young lady,” he exclaimed, “ I will assist 
 your papa — you want help yourself — take Mr. Mont- 
 gomery’s arm, and ” 
 
 “ Mr. Levison had better lean on me, sir, too,” said 
 Denzil, trembling, and not daring to profit by the oppor- 
 tunity offered him. 
 
 Mr. Levison silently took his proffered arm — but he 
 had not advanced many paces, before he burst into tears. 
 
 How short the time is,” he observed, “ since I used 
 to lean on his arm and yours, and feel so proud of the 
 two props of my old age, and now ” 
 
 “ My dear sir, you have still two,” interrupted the 
 good-natured doctor, ‘‘ Miss Levison will soon, I trust, 
 be able to take my place, and Mr, Montgomery will be 
 always ” 
 
 “ No, no, Mr. Montgomery, or rather Lord Alberton, 
 for I do not know why he should not be addressed by his 
 proper title — will have other claims upon him,” observed 
 Mr. Levison, petulantly. 
 
 “ There exists no claim which can supersede those of 
 the protector, the more than father of my youth !” re- 
 turned Denzil, warmly. 
 
 Mr. Levison was silent, but it did not appear like the 
 silence of distrust or of indifference — he seemed to be 
 afraid to trust his voice, and, when he again spoke to 
 Dr. Rymer, it was tremulous, and feeble with agitation. 
 
680 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Some wine and water, which the doctor had recom- 
 mended to both Mr. Levison and Fanny, was now 
 brought. 
 
 “ It would not be amiss, my dear sir, for you also to 
 take some,” observed the former, addressing Denzil. 
 
 ‘‘ Do, Denzil,” said Mr. Levison, in a tone of kindness, 
 observing the latter refuse — “ do be persuaded — ^you are 
 looking very ill, I see.” Denzil took the glass in silence 
 " — the calmness, he had so long struggled to maintain, was 
 now entirely vanquished — and with difficulty he restrained 
 the tears which would have shamed his manhood. 
 
 The doctor left them to attend Mrs. Charles Levison, 
 having been sent for by Miss Rachel, who had accom- 
 panied her to her room. 
 
 Another source of grief and anxiety was now added to 
 that which already weighed the unhappy Mr. Levison 
 to the earth — for it was *soon announced to him by the 
 old housekeeper (Mrs. Williams) that the ‘‘poor young 
 creature,” as she emphatically styled the unfortunateEmma, 
 was likely, in consequence of the terror and agitation she 
 had suffered, to give birth prematurely to the infant 
 whose coming had been anxiously looked to by all, as 
 likely to fix the habits of the mother, and render even 
 the thoughtless father more domestic and reflective. 
 
 Mr. Levison groaned aloud, as the old woman com- 
 municated this unwelcome information. 
 
 “ They are all going ! Yes, it’s but too plain that we 
 are doomed to be swept from the face of the earth — root 
 and branch ! Who would have believed that, in a few 
 years, there should not be a single male of the name of 
 Levison, which has flourished for so many hundred years 
 — yet so it is ! I am now the last of the name, and ray 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 681 
 
 days are numbered — I thought — I hoped, however he 
 might vex and torment me, that I should have lived to 
 see his children springing up to perpetuate the name — but 
 now all are gone !” 
 
 Fanny’s tearful eyes, as she lifted them to his face, 
 seemed to convey the reproach to which Mrs. Williams, 
 with less gentleness, gave utterance. 
 
 “ Not all, sir, neither,” observed the old woman, 
 “ there are many parents who would think them- 
 selves blessed and happy in having such a child as you 
 have ; one so dutiful and good, and always ready to give 
 up every thing for you and your wishes, as Miss Fanny 
 has, poor thing !” 
 
 “ I know it — I know it, Williams,” said Mr. Levison, 
 hastily, “ I know that she deserves, and she knows that 
 she possesses my fondest love — but you cannot under- 
 stand — you cannot know what my feelings are, at the 
 thought that, in a short time, my name and race will be 
 extinct, and in a few years forgotten.” 
 
 “ It will be your own fault, then,” murmured the old 
 woman, whom age and long services emboldened to 
 speak with freedom all that she thought. “ It would be 
 very easy to keep up both your name and your memory — 
 and I could soon put you in the way to do it, and make 
 them happy that have been too long kept asunder ; but 
 this is not a time, I know, to talk about such things — 
 and, besides,” she added, feeling apparently that she had 
 gone too far, “ it is impossible to tell ho w this may end — 
 children born under such circumstances do not always die, 
 and Heaven grant this may live, to comfort the mother, 
 as well as you, sir !” 
 
 The prayer was warmly responded by the hearts of all 
 
 4 s 
 
682 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 present ; and it seemed to have been heard, for in less 
 than half an hour Mrs. Williams hobbled into the room, 
 to announce that the poor lady had given birth to a beau- 
 tiful boy, and that both mother and child were likely to 
 do well. 
 
 ‘‘Poor thing! poor thing!” ejaculated Mr. Levison, 
 “ it is in a mournful hour that he has come — but Heaven, 
 in its mercy, protect the infant, and grant that its life may 
 be happier than the auspices of its birth would indicate !” 
 
 Fanny hurried from the room, to conceal the torrent 
 of mingled feelings which fushed upon her heart at this 
 intelligence, to seek the room of the widowed mother, 
 and to behold the little stranger, who was of so much 
 importance, and who was destined to uphold the sinking 
 name of the Levisons, but she did not leave it without a 
 parting glance to Denzil, through whose heart that long 
 alienated and forbidden glance sent a thrill of hope that, 
 
 ' gloomy as were their present hours, there were yet hap- 
 pier ones in store for them. 
 
 “Poor child, she is sadly altered !” said Mr. Levison, 
 whose looks had followed his daughter’s exit ; “ we are 
 all sadly altered, indeed, since the time you last sat in 
 this room, Denzil. If I could then but have foreseen — 
 but it is useless to repine — and you, too, have had your 
 share of troubles — that poor woman’s death, under such 
 circumstances, I should have thought, must have been a 
 dreadful shock to you — but I suppose your being likely, 
 as of course you are, to establish your birthright, banished 
 every feeling but joy — otherwise you would never have 
 engaged in the frolic, as I suppose you thought it, 
 which has ended so fatally — but I hope it will be a 
 lesson ” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 683 
 
 And can it then be possible, sir, that you seriously 
 believe me so heartless, so utterly lost to every feeling* 
 even of common decency, as to have voluntarily entered 
 into the affair, which, as you truly say, has proved so 
 fatal?” exclaimed Denzil, with warmth. 
 
 “ If I have wronged you, I am sorry for it,” returned 
 Mr. Levison ; ‘‘ but such was certainly the impression I 
 received from those who communicated the cir.cumstances 
 to me.” 
 
 “ It would be cruel and indecorous of me now to re- 
 peat circumstances which would reflect upon one who 
 has paid the penalty of all his errors,” returned Denzil, 
 with solemnity ; “ but I may be allowed so far to vindi- 
 cate myself as to assure you, that I was not even volun- 
 tarily his companion, and that only my wish to save 
 him ” 
 
 ‘‘We will not say any more on the subject,” inter- 
 rupted Mr. Levison. “ I am willing to believe I was 
 wrong — but indeed, Denzil, I have had so much to 
 irritate and exasperate me, and standing in the near rela- 
 tion you do to one who has behaved so ill as the Earl of 
 Raeburn has to me and my family — but I will not say any 
 more about it — I wish to do every one justice, and I have 
 no doubt I was under a misapprehension respecting your 
 conduct, for which I sincerely apologise.” 
 
 The hope, which but a few short minutes before had 
 thrilled Denzif s bosom, and sent the blood in rapid currents 
 to his worn and pallid cheek, died suddenly at the short 
 explanation of his feelings, and the cold tone of the 
 amende which Mr. Levison had uttered. 
 
 The son of Earl Raeburn, it was plain, could not be 
 acknowledged as the friend of Mr. Levison. 
 
684 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 It became, indeed, every moment more evident that as 
 the son of the Earl of Raeburn, rather than as the once- 
 favoured child of his adoption, did Mr. Levison now 
 consider his companion ; and the latter, unable even to 
 offer a word in excuse or extenuation of the offence his 
 father had committed, felt almost happy that the entrance 
 of Dr. Rymer, and the recommendation of the latter to 
 Mr. Levison to retire to bed, afforded him (Denzil) an 
 opportunity of taking his leave. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Let’s take the instant by the forward top, 
 
 For we are old, and on our quick’s! decrees 
 Th’ inaudible and noiseless foot of time 
 Steals ere we can effect them. — Shakespeare. 
 
 Within two days of each other, Denzil followed to 
 the tomb the remains of his mother, and the friend 
 and companion of his youth ; he whom, in spite of all 
 his follies and errors, he had ever regarded as a 
 brother. 
 
 From the period of Charles’s death, he had never ven- 
 tured to repeat his visit, but he learned daily the state of 
 the family from Rosa Somerville, who had flown to con- 
 sole and support her cousin Emma, the moment she had 
 heard the mournful tidings of her loss. 
 
 Mrs. Charles Levison was, considering all the circum- 
 stances, surprisingly well and composed, after the first 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 685 
 
 violent emotions of grief and horror had subsided. The 
 infant was thriving, and Mr. Levison’s whole thoughts 
 and anxieties seemed centered in its existence ; though at 
 times he sank into such alarming fits of gloom and de- 
 spondency, that Dr. Rymer had strongly recommended 
 his instant removal to his native air, as the only means 
 likely to counteract some alarming symptoms, which he 
 considered the effects of the violent excitement of his mind. 
 
 ‘‘Poor Fanny,” continued Miss Somerville, “already, 
 foresees with agony that the moment is not far distant 
 which will rob her of her only parent; and though she 
 tries to appear calm and serene, lest she should increase 
 his melancholy, it is very evident that she suffers severely 
 in secret. Poor aunt Rachel, too, in addition to all her 
 other sorrows, has just received information that a great 
 part of her fortune, which was in the hands of the bank- 
 ing-house of which their old friend Mr. Irwin was the 
 principal, is lost, owing to their having failed in some 
 commercial speculations. ‘ It is scarcely worth a thought, 
 at my time of life,’ observed the good old lady, when she 
 told me the sad tidings, ‘ yet I am hurt, because I had 
 hoped, that, after I was dead and gone, there were some 
 whom it would have benefited — indeed, I have made but 
 little use of it for some years, unless for others — and I 
 am only grieved now that I shall no longer be able to 
 assist those who may want it.’ ” ' 
 
 “And does her brother know of her loss?” demanded 
 Mr. Dormer, who was present when Rosa repeated this. 
 
 “ No — she says he has quite enough to vex and fret 
 him already,” replied Rosa, “ and that it would be time 
 enough to tell him if she should by any circumstance, be 
 obliged to do so. 
 
686 
 
 THT? GIPSY MOTHETl. 
 
 Mr. Dormer remained for a few moments in deep 
 thoug-ht. 
 
 “ It is a pity,” he observed, at length, “if Mr. Levison 
 is in danger, that some friend does not hint to him the 
 situation in which his sister is placed. He has it fully in 
 his power, without injury to his heirs, to provide hand- 
 somely for her, who, with her excellent disposition, even 
 temper, and active habits, may live many years; and cer- 
 tainly ought not to be left in the slightest degree depen- 
 dent on others, however well disposed they may be 
 towards her. I know not,” he continued, “ what Mr. 
 Levison’s arrangements may be, as to his property after 
 his death; but it is scarcely probable that he should have 
 made any considerable bequest to his sister, supposing her 
 to be already possessed of a sum amply sufficient for her 
 wants; and he ought certainly, therefore, to have the 
 opportunity given him of rectifying the error. I must 
 endeavour to see him, after this melancholy affair is 
 over,” he added, alluding to the funeral, “ and at once 
 point out to him ” 
 
 “ It will perhaps be better for my son to do it, my 
 dear sir,” observed Earl Raeburn; “you will agree with 
 me, that it will be highly proper that Lord Alberton 
 should take the earliest opportunity of restoring to Mr. 
 Levison the deed by which the latter conferred indepen- 
 dency on Denzil Montgomery, a name which from 
 henceforth will be extinct, though the obligations which 
 in that character he owed to Mr. Levison, can never be 
 forgotten, I trust, by either him or me. The restoration 
 of that paper will afford Denzil an excellent opportunity 
 for introducing the good old lady^s recent loss, and at 
 once place affairs on a right footing.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 687 
 
 Mr. Dormer agreed with this proposal, and it was de- 
 termined that it should be carried into effect immediately 
 after the funeral. 
 
 A formal undertaker’s card, to request the presence of 
 Mr. Dormer and Lord Alberton to the funeral of Mr. 
 Charles Levison, was the only announcement they re- 
 ceived of that event. The ceremony was conducted as 
 privately as possible — a verdict of temporary derange- 
 ment had sanctified the interment of this unfortunate vic- 
 tim of dissipation, with the usual rites, in hallowed 
 ground — but all pomp and pageantry were properly 
 avoided, and only Lord Alberton, Mr. Dormer, and the 
 medical gentleman attended the heir of the house of 
 Levison to his grave. 
 
 ‘‘ It is twenty-two years, to the very day,” said the 
 old housekeeper, who stood by the coffin when Lord 
 Alberton and Mr. Dormer entered to have a parting look 
 at the corpse, before it was closed up for ever in its nar- 
 row abode. It is just twenty-two years, since the last 
 of the family was buried — and he, too, met a violent 
 death. My poor dear master — he didn’t look as plea- 
 sant as poor master Charles does, though,” she continued, 
 while her tears dropped fast on the face over which she 
 was leaning; ‘‘but they didn’t hurry him away, with 
 scarcely a soul to follow him,” she added, after a long 
 
 pause, and in a tone of anger. “ No there were 
 
 hundreds, horse and foot, followed him to the churchyard, 
 and every thing was handsome and proper, and becoming 
 the name of Levison!” 
 
 “ But, my good Mrs. Williams,” said Dr. Rymer, 
 who at this moment entered the room, “the circumstances 
 now would render such a display improper; and you 
 
688 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “Aye, aye,” interrupted the old woman, petulantly, 
 “ you can all talk — but nobody can tell wbat I feel, at 
 seeing the dear boy, that used to be the pride of all our 
 
 hearts, treated with no more ceremony than if aye, 
 
 if it was even me, or old Thomas there, Mr. Levison 
 would have had us put into the grave with as much de- 
 cency as this is to be done ! Ah, Mr. Denzll,” she con- 
 tinued, for the first time perceiving Lord Alberton, “ two- 
 and-twenty years ago 
 
 “ The poor old woman is quite childish !” said Mr. 
 Dormer, hurrying his companion out of the room, before 
 she could finish the sentence. 
 
 Lord Alberton had, indeed, been severely shocked 
 by the unlooked-for recurrence to an event which he 
 could never think of without shuddering; and he could 
 not but be struck with horror and surprise, at the strange 
 coincidence which Mrs. Williams had pointed out. 
 
 “ It is indeed a strange coincidence,” returned Mr. 
 Dormer, “ if the old woman is correct in her remem- 
 brance of the event to which she alluded.” 
 
 “ Excuse me, sir,” observed the butler, who had en- 
 tered the room with refreshments, and heard the remark, 
 “ I can answer for Mrs. Williams’s correctness — I was 
 then groom to Mr. Alfred Levison, and well remember 
 the day of his funeral, as well as of his death. It is just 
 twenty-two years to-day, since he was buried — but it is 
 still stranger, Mr. Denzil — forgive me, I can’t help still 
 calling you by the old name — It is still stranger, sir,” 
 he added, in a lower voice, “ that the very day appointed 
 for Miss Fanny’s wedding, was the anniversary of her 
 uncle’s dreadful death ! My poor master, in his great joy 
 and bustle, seemed quite to have forgotten, and indeed 
 
THE CxiPSY MOTIIER. 
 
 689 
 
 every body but me seemed not to recollect what day it 
 was — and it wouldn’t have been becoming in me to have 
 interfered ; but my mind misgave me something would 
 happen, even after they set out to church — and so I told 
 Mrs. Williams, as soon as they were gone, and she 
 blamed me that I didn’t speak of it before. However, 
 we agreed we would not say anything about it then, for 
 fear it should damp master’s good spirits ; but we need 
 not have been afraid, as things turned out — though it was 
 no more than I expected, that the match, after all, would 
 come to nothing ! But, heaven have mercy on me ! 
 little did I think there was such sorrow as this in store 
 for us all !” 
 
 “ It was indeed an ill omen, that Mr. Levison should 
 have accidentally fixed on such a day,” observed Mr« 
 Dormer. 
 
 “ It was indeed, sir,” rejoined the garrulous old man, 
 not that I believe,” he added, significantly, “ that any 
 body grieved much for the disappointment, except my 
 master — and he, poor gentleman, had set his whole heart 
 upon it ! He has never been himself since ; and, what 
 with that, and this last alFair, I am afraid he never will 
 again, for ” 
 
 He was interrupted by the entrance of Miss Rachel, 
 the only one of the family who was visible, and who now 
 came, by stealth as it were, to mingle her grief with her 
 old friend Mr. Dormer, and her former favourite, Denzil, 
 as she still called him. 
 
 “ It is very kind and good of you, to attend upon this 
 melancholy occasion,” she observed, after the affronts 
 that have been offered to you both — but you must for- 
 give m.y poor brother — for he will not be long in this 
 
 4 T 
 
690 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 world, I am sure of it. And Dr. Rynier,” she added, 
 i).ddressing- that gentleman, who had just joined them, 
 ‘•you must know it, too — that his days are fast drawing 
 to a close !” 
 
 “ Mr. Levison’s health is certainly very precarious, 
 madam,” replied the doctor, “ and I must acknowledge 
 you are right to be prepared for the worst — yet I by no 
 means despair, if we can but get him into the country.” 
 
 It was plain, however, that the good old lady could 
 not give credence to the flattering hope which the doctor 
 would have inspired; and Mr. Dormer, having ascer- 
 tained from her, that she was resolutely determined not 
 to add to her brother’s troubles, by letting him know the 
 loss she had sustained, resolved, in his own mind, that 
 Lord Alberton’s proposed interview ought not to be 
 delayed an hour longer than was absolutely unavoid- 
 able. He therefore seized the present opportunity of 
 inquiring of her, whether Mr. Levison would consent to 
 receive Lord Aiberton on the following morning. 
 
 “ It will never do for me to ask him, Denzil,” she 
 observed, “ but I will run the risk of introducing you 
 without consulting him. I know his heart is greatly 
 softened towards you — but on one point he is still vio- 
 lently determined. But I must leave you to try what 
 you can do with him yourself.” 
 
 Alberton’s cheeks glowed — he could not but under- 
 stand what Miss Racliel’s words implied, though he felt 
 that this was not the time to introduce the subject to 
 which she alluded. 
 
 The solemn ceremony, v/hich consigned the remains of 
 the unfortunate Charles Levison to their native earth, 
 was concluded ; and Lord Aiberton, for the last time, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 691 
 
 returned to his solitary apartments at Brompton, it hav- 
 ing’ been arranged that he should give them up on the 
 following day, and take possession, with his father, of a 
 house in Grosvenor Place, which originally had been 
 purchased by the latter for the reception of his intended 
 bride. 
 
 The day had been uncommonly gloomy and wet, and 
 a heavy shower of rain was falling, when Lord Alberton 
 arrived at the door of his residence ; and, having dis- 
 charged the coachman, was hastily entering it, when he 
 was arrested by the gentle hand of a female being laid 
 on his arm. 
 
 Supposing it was some casual appeal to his charity, 
 from the appearance of the woman, he hastily put his 
 hand into his pocket for some silver, when he was startled 
 by the well-known voice of Mrs. Delaney. 
 
 I am indeed humbled,” she observed, in a lofty tone, 
 “ when even Mr. Montgomery treats me as a common 
 mendicant — and yet, what am I else?” she continued, 
 wringing her hands, and bursting into a violent flood of 
 tears. 
 
 It was not in Alberton’s nature to behold distress 
 without sympathy, and especially female distress — yet it 
 must be confessed, that, at this moment, perplexity and 
 vexation were predominant in his mind, over all his com- 
 passion and pity. 
 
 It was impossible for him to keep Mrs. Delaney stand- 
 ing in the rain, to relate her distress ; nor could he ven- 
 ture to hurt her feelings by a summary offer of his purse ; 
 and, to ask her to enter the house at twelve o’clock at 
 night, wet, draggled, and abject as her appearance was, 
 altogether, would, he feared, call Torth some observations 
 
692 
 
 THE GIPS^ MOTHER. 
 
 from Ills precise landlady, which would be equally humi- 
 liating to her pride. 
 
 Mrs. Delaney seemed in a moment to comprehend the 
 cause of his hesitation. 
 
 Do not think I am going to intrude myself upon you, * 
 Montgomery,” she continued. ‘‘I know this is not a 
 proper hour for an interview, even with one who once 
 looked upon you with maternal feelings.” 
 
 « Forgive me, Mrs. Delaney,” interrupted Alberton, 
 ‘‘ I certainly must decline to-night inviting you to enter ; 
 but I will call upon you in the morning, if you will leave 
 me your address.” 
 
 ‘‘ Address !” she repeated, with energy. “ Denzil, I 
 have none to give ! I am houseless, penniless — this 
 morning I was thrust out of my wretched abode, and 
 since noon I have wandered the streets, until the sudden 
 impulse of despair drove me here to seek you.” 
 
 “ And have you really no place to rest in, to-night ?” 
 demanded Lord Alberton, with undissembled horror. 
 
 Where is your son, and your youngest daughter ?” 
 
 “ Both gone — both deserted me !” she replied. 
 
 Something must be done !” exclaimed Lord Alberton, 
 in great perplexity and distress, looking at Ned, who was 
 waiting with the candle in his hand. 
 
 ‘‘It’s a decent tidy body that landlady ’ploys for charing,” 
 whispered Ned, “and she’s in the kitchen yet — shall I 
 go to her, and see if she can find a bed for the night ?” 
 
 His master assented, and in the mean time he en- 
 treated Mrs. Delaney to accept the contents of his purse, 
 observing that he would see her on the morrow, and then 
 arrange how he could be of further service to her. 
 
 The unliappy woman would have poured forth a pro- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 693 
 
 fusion of thanks — the lofty spirit, which seemed to have 
 dictated her first address, appearing completely subdued 
 by his generosity. 
 
 The char-woman, whose appearance fully warranted 
 Ned’s recommendation, cheerfully offered a part of her 
 bed for the accommodation of the wanderer — observing, 
 she had known what it was to be without a home or a 
 friend herself, though God had proved her friend, and 
 now she had a clean room and a comfortable bed of her 
 own — his name be praised for it ! 
 
 “ Give the poor woman five shillings, Ned,” whispered 
 Lord Alberton, and then, bowing to Mrs. Delaney, he 
 retreated, to avoid the thanks of both her and her pro- 
 tectress, the poor char-woman. 
 
 Shocked and grieved as he felt at the state of abject 
 distress and destitution to which this unfortunate woman 
 was reduced. Lord Alberton could not but reflect upon 
 the justness of that retributive dispensation, which had 
 driven her to seek an asylum from the son of her, against 
 whom, in the days of prosperity, she had closed her doors. 
 From his mother he had heard instances of Mrs. Delaney’s 
 heartiessness and iidiumanity, which, according to the 
 maxims of the world, would have justified him in reject- 
 ing with scorn her appeal to his charity — but Alberton’s 
 rules of conduct were derived from a higher source than 
 the fallible and selfish doctrines of man ; and his heart, 
 as well as his principles, prompted him to return good 
 for evil. 
 
 The awful event, and the melancholy duties which had 
 occupied his thoughts since the morning when he beheld 
 Delaney, had prevented his bestowing a thought as to the 
 situation of that wretched individual ; but Mrs. Delaney’s 
 
694 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 sudden appearance, and evident destitution, now recalled 
 forcibly to his mind the dreadful situation in which the 
 former was placed, and he reproached himself for not 
 having- made some enquiries respecting him. 
 
 Resolving to repair that neglect on the morrow, and as 
 far as he could, in conscience, aid him. Lord Alberton re- 
 turned to rest, happy in the consciousness of having rescued 
 one from misery, who he trusted might yet live to be- 
 come a useful member of society, when freed, as she most 
 likely would be, for a time, from the pernicious example 
 of him who had encouraged, if not created those habits 
 of selfishness and deception, which were so prominent in 
 Mrs. Delaney’s character. 
 
 There was an expression in Ned’s countenance, as he 
 waited upon his master’s breakfast table, that told the lat- 
 ter something had happened which he was eager to com- 
 municate ; and, naturally supposing that the last night’s 
 adventure was at the bottom of it, the latter took the 
 first opportunity of inquiring whether he (Ned) had seen 
 the poor woman, and heard anything of Mrs, Delaney. 
 
 Ned instantly replied in the affirmative, adding — 
 
 I was sorry to hear what I was forced to hear,” he 
 continued, “for Mrs. Jenkins (the charwoman) could talk 
 of nothing else but ‘the lady,’ and her misfortunes; and 
 I was sorry, indeed I could not help it, to hear that Mrs. 
 Delaney should have lowered herself so far as to tell 
 Mrs. Jenkins all her troubles, and that her husband was 
 in prison and under sentence of death.” 
 
 “Death !” exclaimed Lord Alberton, with horror. 
 
 “Yes, sir, that was what she told the woman, and very 
 foolish it was of her, I think, to lower herself so to one 
 that could’nt have no right to be considered her equal,” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 695 
 
 returned Ned; ‘‘ for, though I don’t like her no more nor 
 the rest o’ them, yet a lady is a lady, and 
 
 ‘'To death!” repeated Lord Alberton, on whose ear 
 Ned’s assertion of the rights of ladies had fallen, without 
 exciting the slightest attention. 
 
 “ Yes, sir, so she said,” he replied,' in answer to his 
 master’s last exclamation ; “ and somehow, bad as he may 
 be, I didn’t like to hear of it — and, most of all, to hear 
 that she, that ought to be the last to speak or think ill 
 of him, should be the first to tell of his faults — but 
 she gave Mrs. Jenkins such a history of him, and she 
 said, too, that ” 
 
 “ I do not wish to hear what she said, Ned,” inter- 
 rupted Lord Alberton, who felt thoroughly disgusted 
 with the want of delicacy, and even of humanity, which 
 Mrs. Delaney had shewn, in thus making her husband’s 
 wretched situation the subject of discussion, and especially 
 to a low ignorant woman, whose very compassion she 
 ought to have felt degrading to her. The situation of 
 the wretched Delaney, however, excited in his mind the 
 most poignant feelings of regret and sorrow, and he de- 
 termined to learn from his wife, whether there was a 
 possibility of rendering the unhappy man any service- 
 For this purpose he inquired of Ned where he could see 
 Mrs. Delaney. 
 
 “You need not go to look for her, I expect,” replied 
 Ned, with his usual bluntness, “ for Mrs. Jenkins tells me 
 she was very particular in inquiring what time you got 
 up and breakfasted, that she might not miss you ; for, she 
 said, she must strike while the iron was hot, and try to 
 get enough of you to carry her to Ireland, where she’d 
 got plenty of friends and acquaintances, and didn’t doubt 
 
696 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 she should do well yet — meaning, as Mrs. Jenkins sup- 
 poses, that she should get another husband there !’^ 
 
 “ I rather suspect, Ned, that your friend, Mrs. Jenkins, 
 is too clever in drawing inferences ; and, in fact, that it is 
 altogether Mrs. Jenkins’s language, and not Mrs. Dela- 
 ney’s that you have repeated — for I can scarcely believe 
 she would have been so foolish, as to have talked in such 
 a ridiculous manner.” 
 
 “ I donna know,” replied Ned, rather sulkily, ‘‘ Mrs. 
 Jenkins be no friend of mine, except that she’s a civil, 
 decent-behaved body ; but, when ladies let themselves 
 down to drink two or three glasses of brandy, pretending 
 to keep up their sperrits, and settle their Jiusterfications^ 
 or whatever they call it. I’m apt to think it isn’t much to 
 be wondered at that they talk nonsense, and forget them- 
 selves.” 
 
 “ Certainly not,” returned Lord Alberton, to whom 
 this observation afforded at once an elucidation of much 
 that he had been at various times puzzled to account for, 
 in the conduct of Mrs. Delaney. 
 
 He was still reflecting on the dangers and difficulties 
 to which his connexion with this family had exposed him, 
 when Mrs. Delaney was announced. 
 
 Though somewhat more gentle and subdued in man- 
 ner than on the night before, Alberton could plainly per- 
 ceive, in her looks, and overstrained attempts to appear 
 interesting, the effects of the pernicious and degrading 
 habit of which Ned had accused her; and it rendered him 
 more decidedly cold and reserved than he could have other- 
 wise (considering her distressed situation, and the light 
 in which he had formerly beheld her) brought himself to 
 be; but Mrs. Delaney was not to be disconcerted by one 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 697 
 
 whom she considered a mere novice ; and one, too, whose 
 credulity and inexperience she had so often made sub- 
 servient to her purposes; and Lord Alberton was com- 
 pelled to listen to a long and highly-wrought detail of 
 her sufferings since the desertion of her family, who had 
 all, according to her account, repaid her undeviating care 
 and tenderness with the grossest ingratitude. 
 
 And your husband, madam?” he demanded, observ- 
 ing that she seemed to pass over him without notice. 
 Mrs. Delaney gave a tragic start, and shudder. 
 
 “ Alas!” she exclaimed, “ do not mention that unhappy 
 man — I have tried to forget that such a being still exists, 
 to load me with sorrow and shame! But you know al- 
 ready, surely, Mr. Montgomery, his crimes ” 
 
 ‘‘Madam! Mrs. Delaney!” interrupted Alberton, 
 with undisguised contempt and reprobation, “ I wish 
 not to heal’ — I could not have expected from you, as his 
 wife— as the mother of his children — any condemnation, 
 — any thing, indeed, but sorrow and commiseration for 
 his sufferings. I would have asked you, indeed, if you 
 thought it were possible, by any exertion of mine, or 
 of my friends, to procure a mitigation of that dreadful 
 sentence, which fills my heart ivith horror — and whicli, 
 to you, I should think, must be too terrible to be con- 
 templated without the bitterest agony.” 
 
 “You are right — you are right!” said Mrs. Delaney, 
 covering her face with her hands, and seeming for a 
 mornent overwhelmed by the acuteness of her feelings, 
 “ I have tried," Indeed, to remember him only as the 
 author of all the misery and humiliation I have endured 
 — as the tyrant, to whom I have for years been com- 
 pelled to submit even my very principles, and to practise 
 
 4 u 
 
H98 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 dissimulation and guile, which was hateful to me — and 
 for which my reward has been to be hated by him, and 
 despised and contemned by those who, but for him, 
 would have regarded me with respect and affection! 
 Yes, Mr. Montgomery, what I am, Delaney has made 
 me ! yet I feel, as you truly say, that he is still my hus- 
 band, and the father of my children — and there is no sacri- 
 fice I would shrink from, to restore him to freedom !” 
 
 Of that, there can remain no hopes,” returned Lord 
 Alberton; ‘‘but his life ” 
 
 “ His life is safe, Mr. Montgomery,” she replied, with 
 some surprise. “ Surely, you did not think me so void 
 of feeling, as to have been thus unmoved, had his life 
 been in danger? It is true, he was condemned to die — 
 but the sentence has been commuted into banishment for 
 life.” 
 
 Lord Alberton felt a heavy weight removed from his 
 heart, and his companion became less an object of aver- 
 sion in his sight, though he did not think it necessary 
 to apologize to her for an error, of which she had her- 
 self been the primary cause, by her exaggerated state- 
 ment to the woman with whom she had passed the night. 
 On the contrary, without noticing her reproaches, lie 
 proceeded to ask her in what manner he could advance 
 her interests, hinting that, however disposed to serve 
 her, he had too many calls upon his time and attention, to 
 allow him to devote more than the present moment to her. 
 
 Mrs. Delaney would have commenced a pathetic 
 lamentation on her hard fate, in having forfeited the con- 
 fidence and esteem of one towards whom she had ever 
 felt and shown an affection, which his talents and virtues 
 alone could excuse — but her auditor soon convinced her 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 699 
 
 that her battery was unpleasant and unacceptable, and 
 he cut her short in one of her best-turned periods, by 
 saying — 
 
 It is your wish, I understand, Mrs. Delaney, to re- 
 turn to Ireland ?” 
 
 Mrs. Delaney’s large blue eyes were opened to their 
 fullest extent, and she was about to express her astonish- 
 ment at his having thus forestalled her wishes ; but he 
 again prevented her by proceeding very coolly to ask her 
 what sum she considered necessary for that purpose. 
 
 The lady was taken by surprise, but she had probably 
 made up her mind not to lose any advantage by over 
 delicacy, and she named a sum, which, habitually dis- 
 regard less as he was of the value of money, appeared to 
 Lord Alberton so exorbitant, that he could not but look 
 upon it as insulting him, to suppose that he could be so 
 grossly imposed upon. 
 
 Without making any immediate reply, therefore, he 
 opened his desk, and, having written an order upon his 
 banker, presented it to her, observing 
 
 “ That, madam, you will find is a draft for half the 
 amount you have named, which is as much, I presume, as 
 I can, under all cli ..umstances, be expected to contribute, 
 and certainly quite as much as I feel it necessary I should 
 do.” 
 
 The calmness and decision with which this was uttered, 
 and the keen searching look of the dark eye which was 
 fixed full on her face, seemed at once to defeat all Mrs. 
 Delaney’s hitherto dauntless effrontery — she folded and 
 unfolded the paper, with an air of hesitation, as if raedj^ 
 tating a reply, but Lord Alberton completely prevented 
 it l)y saying. 
 
TOO 
 
 THE (ilPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ Pardon me, madam, I have an appointment, which 
 requires my immediate attention; and therefore must 
 take my leave of you, wishing you all possible happi- 
 ness,” and, without waiting for her to utter a word, he 
 rang the bell for the servant to attend her to the door, 
 and quitted the room. 
 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 ’Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, 
 
 To give these mourning duties to your father — 
 
 But you must know your father lost a father, 
 
 That father lost his. — Shakespeare. 
 
 The plea of an appointment, by which Lord Alberton 
 had succeeded in shortening his interview with his 
 troublesome visitant, was not, as she most probably sup- 
 posed, a mere excuse for that purpose ; for the fact was, 
 that, at the moment he spoke, the former had recollected 
 that the hour was already arrived which he had appointed 
 for his visit to Mr. Levison. 
 
 To St. James’s Place, therefore, he proceeded, and was 
 immediately introduced into the breakfast-room, in which 
 he found the kind-hearted Miss Rachel alone, busily 
 engaged in settling her household accounts, which, she 
 observed, with a deep sigh, were sadly confused and in 
 arrear ; not only because the late melancholy events had 
 rendered her incanable of attending to them, but that she 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 701 
 
 had lost those who used to be always at hand, and ready 
 to assist her in any little perplexities arising from the 
 dimness of her sight, and the difficulty of comprehending 
 the crabbed hands of the butcher, the baker, and other 
 tradesmen. 
 
 “ You used to be my secretary, Denzil,” she observed, 
 sighing again, “ and then I was never at a loss — not but 
 Fanny has done her best to supply your loss, till lately— 
 but, poor thing, I cannot bear to tease her now — for she 
 has had so much to fret and grieve her, and indeed so 
 have we all, since we left Cumberland ! — Ah, Denzil, 
 those were happy days, such as none of us will ever see 
 again ! though you are young, to be sure, and I hear 
 your father is very kind and proud of you — and so he 
 ought to be — and a great comfort it ought to be to him, 
 too, that he is able at last to do you justice, and com- 
 pensate a little for all the misery he has caused.’’ 
 
 Alberton felt that this was not the time for him to 
 attempt a vindication of his father — he therefore only ob- 
 served that he trusjted, at some future opportunity. He 
 should be able to reconcile her to Earl Raeburn, who, 
 he was sure, felt the highest esteem and regard for her. 
 
 The old lady shook her head incredulously, and then, 
 closing her account books, she observed 
 
 “ There’s only one thing that can ever restore Earl 
 Raeburn to my friendship — and that is, that, if I live to 
 see him the father-in-law of Fanny Lev Ison, I may for- 
 get that I once thought to have beheld him her husband — 
 not that I regret he was not — only for the sake of my poor 
 brother, who thinks his daughter everlastingly disgraced 
 by what has happened.” 
 
702 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHETl. 
 
 “ He is ilie only person in the world who could think 
 so,” replied Lord Alberton, warmly. 
 
 “ I wish you may be able to persuade him so, my dear 
 boy,” returned Miss Rachel, whose manpers had gra- 
 dually returned to their usual kindness and freedom 
 towards one whom she had ever distinguished with great 
 favour, in their former intercourse. 
 
 Without further observation, she led the way to Mr, 
 Levison’s chamber. 
 
 “ That used to be your room once,” said Miss Rachel, 
 as they passed a room ; “ it is now poor Emma’s.” 
 
 The door was at this moment opened, by a servant 
 coming out, and Alberton caught a transient glance of 
 Fanny, who was standing near it, with an infant in her 
 arms. She did not, however, perceive him, and he 
 dared not linger to indulge himself with a second look, 
 though his old friend Susan, who caught his eager glance, 
 purposely delayed closing the door, in hopes that he 
 would profit by the opportunity. • 
 
 Mr. Levison had just risen, and his look was awfully 
 discouraging, when his sister, preceding her protege into 
 the room, observed, in a tone evidently intended to depre- 
 cate his anger, that she had brought a visitor with her, 
 who was very anxious to be admitted to see him. 
 
 ‘‘ I was in hopes. Lord Alberton, that our accounts 
 had closed,” observed the- invalid, who looked wretchedly 
 ill, and evidently struggled to assume a calmness he was 
 far from feeling. 
 
 “ On my part, sir, they can never close,” returned 
 Alberton; “the debt of gratitude which I owe to you, 
 my whole life will ])e insufficient to repay — would that 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 703 
 
 it were in my power to convince you of my sincerity by 
 more than words — that I might be allowed to devote 
 
 every hour of my life to you, if ” 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, no, no — you have a father, now — one to whom 
 your life must be devoted,” interrupted Mr. Levison, in 
 a petulant and hasty tone. I do not want to say any- 
 thing against him to you ; but you must know, you must 
 feel, that it is quite impossible that you can, as his son, 
 be received again into my family. I anticipate all that you 
 are come to say, Denzil — Lord Alberton, I should say — 
 I am sorry for you, because I believe, after all, that you 
 are much less blameable than I thought you — but we must 
 both try to forget all the past. I shall soon forget every 
 thing, in the grave ! And you, with wealth, and rank, and 
 the world before you, will soon forget that there ever ex- 
 isted such an insignificant old fellow as Charles Levison.” 
 
 “ Never, sir ! — I must forget my maker, if I forget my 
 preserver !” returned Alberton, with emphasis. “ To 
 whom, but yourself, do I owe the advantages of which 
 you speak — but which will no longer be advantages, if 
 they are to banish me from your affections, which I once 
 flattered myself I shared with ” 
 
 “ You did — you did !” said the old man, trembling 
 with emotion, and extending his hand, which Alberton 
 eagerly pressed. “ My own boy, my poor Charles !” 
 he continued, while the big tears forced themselves down 
 his cheeks, ‘‘ was not dearer to me than Denzil Mont- 
 gomery was — nay, I will own, still is ! But as tlie son 
 of Earl Raeburn, I tremble with indignation while I pro- 
 nounce his name ! Oh, that I were but as when he and I 
 first met, that I might revenge the insult he dared offer 
 my poor girl— and yet it served me right, Denzil, for I 
 
704 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 was cruel and unjust to you! I know I was — I was 
 blinded by the prospect of seeing my darling Fanny en- 
 nobled — but I have been punished, bitterly punished — 
 and he, the villain ! to dare to show himself at the altar, 
 when he knew that he was already the husband of ano- 
 ther — and that, at some future period, his wife and her 
 children might come forward to 
 
 ‘‘ My dear, dear sir, he knew not that any such per- 
 sons were in existence,” interrupted Alberton. 
 
 “ And do you attempt to vindicate him, sir?” exclaimed 
 Mr. Levison, sternly; “you, whom his neglect con- 
 signed to obscurity — you, whose mother, by his culpable 
 
 ^but I will not say another word against him — he is 
 
 your father, and you have a right to think well of him ! 
 You were ever dutiful and obedient to me, Denzil — I 
 must still call you by that name which I gave you, be- 
 cause I thought it for your interest that you should not 
 
 be known as the child of that unfortunate you were 
 
 christened, I believe, William but that was not what 
 
 1 was going to say — I meant to say to you, that it is 
 but right that you should transfer to your fatlier all tliat 
 duty and obedience which you once so fully practised 
 towards me. I shall ever wish you well, Denzil — nay, I 
 will say more, I shall ever regard you with affection — 
 and, when I am laid in the grave, if it should still be 
 your wish to unite your fate with that of my child, you 
 have my free consent so to do; but while I live, as the 
 son of a man whom I never can do otherwise than de- 
 spise — I — we must be strangers! I shall think of Denzil 
 Montgomery, and forget Lord Alberton.” 
 
 Alberton did not attempt a reply to this — he was deeply 
 affected by the return of that kindness which he had feared 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHKP. 
 
 705 
 
 was, however undeservedly on his part, for ever extin- 
 guished in the bosom of his benefactor; but his unfeigned 
 regard and esteem for the latter, would not suffer him to 
 rejoice in the anticipation that his promised happiness, in 
 an union with the object of his early love, would not be 
 long delayed. 
 
 It was, indeed, but too evident that Mr. Levison’s shat- 
 tered frame would not long survive the repeated shocks 
 he had endured; and Lord Alberton contemplated with 
 unfeigned sorrow the striking ravages which disease had 
 made, in so short a time, in his appearance. The thought 
 recalled to him the chief object for which he had sought 
 this interview; and, as cautiously as possible, to avoid 
 irritating the irascible temper of the invalid, he introduced 
 the subject of the settlement which he (Mr. Levisonj had 
 so generously bestowed upon him. 
 
 The old gentleman listened to him in silence. 
 
 “ I will not pretend to say that I am sorry you have 
 no longer occasion for it, Denzil,” he calmly replied, as 
 he took the proffered deed; ‘‘ but, I can assure you, that 
 1 do not receive it back, with half the pleasure that I 
 bestowe^l it. 1 had added something to it, too, in the 
 way of bequest, in my will, but as that will be superflu- 
 ous, as you observe, I shall make an alteration there too. 
 My library I always intended for you, and that I shall 
 still beg you to accept, as a mark of my esteem.” 
 
 Alberton was too deeply affected to utter a word for 
 some minutes, but at length he contrived to introduce 
 the name of Miss Rachel Levison, and, by degrees, im- 
 parted to the old gentleman the information of her recent 
 loss, and his own surmise that Mr. Levison, if acquainted 
 
 4 X 
 
706 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 with it, would wish to make some arrangement to secure 
 her independence. 
 
 '<You are quite right, my dear boy; it is just like 
 you, always thoughtful and prudent for others!” ex- 
 claimed Mr. Levison. “ This, indeed, must be looked to, 
 immediately. Heaven forbid I should neglect poor Ra- 
 chel, or leave her dependant; she has been a kind, good 
 sister to me; and deeply was I indebted to her, even in 
 money concerns, in my youthful days; for I am some 
 years younger than her, though a great deal older in con- 
 stitution, Denzil; and she has never been repaid. Her 
 answer always was, that she had more than she knew 
 what to do with. Poor thing! poor thing! and she 
 would have kept this a secret, and let me die in her 
 debt!” 
 
 Again and again he repeated his thanks to Denzil, 
 for having put it in his power to do an act of justice, by 
 making a handsome provision for his sister; observing, 
 that he should delay it no longer than till his arrival in 
 Cumberland, for which place he intended setting out in 
 a few days. 
 
 Lord Alberton heard this resolution with real concern; 
 he had begun to hope that the confidence, which was re- 
 stored between him and his old friend, might be improved 
 to the utmost of his wishes, if they remained near to 
 each other, but this separation seemed to place another 
 bar to his hopes. 
 
 “Yes, yes,” observed Mr. Levison, as if reflecting on 
 Avhat he had just learned, “ I will not delay. Old Good- 
 win must be sent for, as soon as I am once more at home, 
 and we must have a new will altogether; that will be 
 the best way.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 707 
 
 Lord Alberton now rose to take his leave; he had 
 said and done all that he came to say and do, and he 
 could find no pretext to prolong his stay. 
 
 “ May I be permitted to call and see you, during the 
 short time you remain in town, sir?” he demanded, in a 
 faltering voice. 
 
 “ I know not how to refuse you, Denzil,” returned 
 
 Mr. Levison, “ and yet ” he hesitated; well, well, 
 
 be it so, my boy — for when we do part, it will be for 
 ever; and I don’t feel quite strong enough to bear that, 
 to-day.” 
 
 Alberton pressed his hand gratefully, 
 
 “ Till to-morrow, then, sir, I will bid you farewell,” 
 he observed. 
 
 “ Be it so,” returned Mr. Levison, ‘‘ but, mind — no 
 
 attempts to take advantage -you know my resolution, 
 
 and if ” 
 
 “ You were pleased to say I had ever acted dutifully 
 to you, sir,” interrupted Alberton; “trust me, I will 
 never forfeit that character.” 
 
 “ Well, I believe you are a noble fellow — you always 
 were, Denzil — and now you have my permission to go 
 and talk to Fanny, if you wish — and there is poor Emma, 
 too, will be glad to see you — and the dear child — you 
 have not seen that, either — I had forgotten that.” 
 
 Alberton repeated his farewell, and hastened to the 
 breakfast-room, where he found Miss Rachel, again 
 seated before her account books, which, however, it was 
 very evident, had received but little attention from her 
 during his absence. 
 
 She eagerly inquired how he had left her brother, and 
 whether he had yielded to his (Alberton’s) wishes. 
 
708 
 
 THE GiFSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ I should not at the present moment dare press any 
 wish on my respected friend, except the wish of being 
 restored to his estee.n; and in that, 1 have, I am happy 
 to say, fully succeeded,” replied Lord Alberton; “as a 
 proof of which, I am allowed to ask your permission to 
 see Fanny, and, if you think it would not be improper, 
 Mrs. Charles Levison also.” 
 
 “ I must break it to Emma, and see how she bears it,” 
 observed the thoughtful old lady. “ Poor thing, this is 
 the first day she has been up — but I will go and send 
 Fanny to you, directly.” 
 
 The few minutes that elapsed between her departure 
 and Fanny’s appearance, seemed hours to the impatient 
 Alberton ; but, at length, her well-known step was heard 
 — he flew to the door, and Fanny sank trembling into his 
 arms. 
 
 “ My aunt has, indeed, given me a surprise,” she ob- 
 served, gently extricating herself from his ardent em- 
 brace, but suffering him to retain her hand, as he led her 
 to a seat — “yet my heart, improbable as it appeared, an- 
 ticipated that the stranger, who, she said, waited to see 
 me, could be no other than -” 
 
 “ Than he who has too long been a stranger, dearest 
 Fanny; and who, even now, in this moment of invaluable 
 indulgence, anticipates with misery the hour which will 
 again separate us. Your father tells me that you are 
 going to leave town in a few days.” 
 
 “ Doctor Rymer has pronounced it advisable that my 
 father should be removed, as soon as possible, to Cum- 
 berland,” returned Fanny; “ and, of course, I go with 
 him — but, is it possible ! — have you seen my father, and 
 does he know——” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 709 
 
 “ I have his sanction for seeking’ this interview, my 
 beloved,” replied Alberton ; “ but I cannot tell you 
 
 what has passed — it is most probable that you will hear 
 
 it all, from your father’s own lips thus far, however, 
 
 Fanny, I feel I am not trespassing on his injunctions.” 
 
 Fanny remained silent — but her lover read, in her 
 downcast eye, in the deep blush that glowed on her 
 before pale cheek, and the faint uncertain pressure of the 
 small hand which was clasped in his, the transporting 
 certainty that absence and difficulty had not lessened her 
 attachment to him. 
 
 His silent and enraptured gaze on her beautiful face 
 embarrassed her; yet Fanny, usually so eloquent on 
 every subject with those she loved, and who, an hour 
 previous, could have fancied that she possessed exhaust- 
 less themes on which to talk with him by whom she was 
 at present seated, could not now utter a word. 
 
 Rachel returned, and Alberton, though he wished she 
 had been less alert, could not but immediately accept 
 her invitation to the room of the invalid. 
 
 “ Fanny will come after us,” said her aunt, observing 
 Alberton’s look. 
 
 “ Poor girl, her spirits are very weak,” slie observed, 
 when they were out of hearing, “ and so it is best she 
 should stay till after your first meeting with Emma.” 
 
 Emma, however, bore with much greater calmness than 
 could have been expected, the sight of one who could 
 not but recal to her recollection the melancholy fate 
 which had made her a widow, and her child fatherless ; 
 hut the first transports of her grief had been so violent, 
 that they appeared to have nearly exhausted it; and, 
 after a few tears, and an application to her smelling-bot^ 
 
710 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 tie, the youthful widow became composed enough to 
 enter into conversation with her visitor upon different 
 subjects; one of which was the pug-nose of her baby, 
 which, she declared, she could not bear to look at — it 
 was so abominably frightful ; and another was the strong 
 propensity Rosa Somerville, who had just left her, 
 evinced to talk about the Earl of Raeburn. 
 
 “ I’ve been quizzing her about it, this morning,” she 
 added, ‘‘ and I declare, by her blushes, I do believe that 
 it is a fact, that she has a penchant for your adorable papa; 
 though, by the by, it does not seem his least recominen- 
 dation that he is so amazingly like you, that it appears 
 quite a wonder to her, she says, that we didn’t all find 
 out, long ago, how nearly you were related.” 
 
 Lord Alberton did not reply to this badinage^ which 
 appeared to him both unbecoming and unseasonable ; and 
 Emma, observing Fanny at this moment entering, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 I declare, Fanny, Denzil does not seem pleased at 
 the idea of having such a pretty mamma-in-law as Rosa. 
 I am afraid,” she added, in a whisper in Lord Alberton’s 
 ear, ‘‘ that you are somewhat dog-in-the-manger-ish — 
 wouldn’t have her yourself, nor don’t like any one else !” 
 
 If there was any reasonable ground for what you 
 insinuate, Emma, our friend, Miss Somerville, would be 
 little indebted to you, I think,” observed Fanny ; “ but 
 
 as we all know it is purely your own invention ” 
 
 “ Oh, my invention,” interrupted Mrs. Levison, 
 “now, do not say that, Fanny — for you know well, that 
 Rosa entertains us constantly with what the Earl does 
 and says, and all the rest of it — you shake your head, but, 
 I would venture to lay you any wager you like, that Rosa 
 
THE GTPSY MOTHER. ' TU 
 
 Somerville will be Countess of Raeburn, and you and 
 Denzil will have to ask her blessing, like two pretty 
 dutiful children.” 
 
 The blush which glowed in Fanny’s cheeks was not 
 more vivid than that which for a moment crimsoned that 
 of Lord Alberton ; but it quickly faded from the counte- 
 nance of the latter, and left it paler than before — while a 
 deep irrepressible sigh betrayed that this raillery was 
 very far from producing a pleasing impression on his 
 mind. 
 
 Fanny’s whispered remonstrance had not, however, its 
 intended effect in silencing her cousin ; and the latter con- 
 tinued to amuse herself with deriding Lord Alberton’s 
 solemnity, and declaring that it was produced by the 
 usual jealousy of grown-up sons towards youthful 
 mothers-in-law. 
 
 “ There might, I should think, easily occur to your 
 mind, Emma, that there are much more weighty reasons 
 for my solemnity, as you call it,” observed Lord Alber- 
 ton, who felt vexed at her pertinacity on a subject, which, 
 he was sure, would have been deeply mortifying to Rosa 
 Somerville, could she have known what passed. 
 
 “ There, now, I declare it is very cruel of you,” ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Charles Levison, applying her cambric 
 handkerchief to her eyes, I had just, for a moment, con- 
 trived to forget what a wretched, unhappy creature I am • 
 — and you take care to remind me of it,” she continued, 
 sobbing. 
 
 “ I did not, indeed, intend any such thing, Emma,” 
 returned Lord Alberton. “ I should indeed deserve 
 your appellation of cruel, if I could have meant so — but I 
 alluded to my own situation, to my own recent loss, and 
 
712 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 other circumstances, which contribute to depress me, and 
 render me unable to bear raillery.’^ 
 
 Emma, however, had now excited herself into a fit of 
 weeping, and she continued to indulge it, until she heard 
 Lord Alberton say, in reply to a question from Miss 
 Rachel, that he believed it was Earl Raeburn’s intention 
 to stay in town until the House broke up. 
 
 Well, I’ve been wondering, for these two or three 
 days,” exclaimed Emma, suddenly drying her tears, 
 “ whether Earl Raeburn intends to take possession of the 
 
 place in Cumberland, that he bought when well, I 
 
 will not say when, Fanny, if you do not like to hear it,” 
 she continued, observing Fanny’s imploring look; “but, 
 however, Denzil must know what I mean — and all I want 
 to know is, whether we shall be neighbours in the sum- 
 mer — for, you know, it is only just a mile and a half 
 from the Hall, to ” 
 
 “ I really do not know what are Earl Raeburn’s inten- 
 tions, at present,” interrupted Lord Alberton, in whose 
 bosom this observation had kindled an unlooked-for 
 hope; “but, you may rely on it, if ray persuasions will 
 have any weight with him, many weeks will not elapse, 
 before we shall have the honour of being your neigh- 
 bours.” 
 
 “ Well, I declare, that will be delightful, won’t it, 
 Fanny?” exclaimed the still volatile Emma. “I shall not 
 half so much dread going down, if I know we shall have 
 two or three beaux we may depend on ; and then, if it 
 should happen that Earl Raeburn persuades Mr. Dormer 
 and Miss Somerville to be of his party, and that is not 
 unlikely — is it, Denzil?” she added, with one of her 
 archest smiles. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. . 713 
 
 “ I do not know that it is,” replied Alberton, ‘‘ thonoh 
 perhaps it may not, upon consideration, be very likely 
 that Mr. Dormer will bring- his niece to a house where 
 there would be no lady to receive her.” 
 
 Oh, I could soon point out a way of getting over 
 that difficulty — could not you, Fanny ?” said the incor- 
 rigible Emma. 
 
 It was impossible for Lord Alberton to suppress a 
 smile at the manner in which this question was put, and 
 the look with which Fanny replied to it; but the smile 
 was again speedily succeeded by a sigh, for he could not 
 forget how strong a barrier there was, as yet, interposed 
 to prevent his even looking forward with pleasure to the 
 event to which the thoughtless Emma alluded, and which 
 she seemed to think was now irrevocably concluded upon, 
 since she had learned that Alberton had passed nearly an 
 hour with Mr. Levison, and that his visit to herself, and 
 his communication with Fanny, had received the old gen- 
 tleman’s sanction. 
 
 Aunt Rachel, too, seemed to be under the same delu- 
 sion — but not so Fanny — she could too truly interpret 
 the embarrassed and melancholy expression of Alberton’s 
 countenance ; she saw that his eyes sedulously avoided 
 meeting hers, and every expression that was uttered 
 by the thoughtless Emma, seemed to increase his 
 reserve and embarrassment. Flis reply, too, to Miss 
 Rachers invitation to slay and dine with them, was quite 
 sufficient to convince Fanny that slie was by no means to 
 consider him as established on the same footing as for- 
 merly in the family. 
 
 I should be most happy,” he replied, to accept your 
 kind invitation, dear madam, but I fear that, should I do 
 
 4 y 
 
714 . 
 
 I'HE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 SO, Mr. Levison would think that 1 was taking advantage 
 of his indulgence. It is long,” he added, with a deep 
 sigh, “since I have been allowed this privilege, and I 
 must not venture to abuse it.” 
 
 Fanny’s downcast look, and her aunt’s silent and 
 thoughtful gaze, as if she would read what was passing in 
 his mind, combined with his observation, appeared, at 
 length, to awaken a suspicion in Mrs. Charles Levison’s 
 mind, that she had been too hasty in her anticipations ; but 
 her attempts at apology, rendered the subject still more 
 painful to both Fanny and Alberton; and the latter was 
 compelled, though unwillingly, to shorten his visit, in 
 pity to Fanny’s evident distress and confusion, having 
 previously, however, intimated that he should take 
 advantage of Mr. Levison’s permission, and see them 
 again on the following day. 
 
 < The result of this visit was anxiously looked for, both 
 / on the part of Mr. Dormer and the Earl of Raeburn ; 
 / but only to the former did Lord Alberton communicate 
 all that had passed between him and Mr. Levison — for of 
 Fanny, or of his own feelings, as connected with her, 
 he felt it impossible to speak to his father, without recall- 
 ing scenes and circumstances painful alike to both ; while 
 the latter, seeming equally desirous to bury the past in 
 oblivion, avoided, as far as possible, any allusion to her, 
 though at the same time he took care to let his son know 
 that he was fully prepared to sanction his union with her, 
 if he could induce Mr. Levison to consent to it. 
 
 To Mr. Dormer, the gloom and uneasiness which over- 
 spread the countenance of Lord Alberton, as he repeated 
 to him Mr. Levison’s determination, appeared quite 
 groundless and unnecessary, for he believed the battle, 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHETI, 
 
 715 
 
 to use his own phrase, more than half won, in having- 
 brought Mr. Levison to listen to the subject; and he 
 contended that the latter would never have consented to 
 Alberto n^s unrestrained interview with Fanny, had he 
 not made up his mind no longer to oppose their union. 
 
 You will see I am right, my boy,” he concluded, in 
 high glee. “ I know my old friend so well — his pride 
 will for a short time struggle with his feelings, but 
 they will at length conquer, and I shall at last have the 
 pleasure of seeing all as it should be. I wish, though, we 
 could keep them all in town a few weeks longer, that it 
 might be settled at once.” 
 
 “ Not for the world, would I be the means of keeping 
 Mr. Levison here,” returned Lord Alberton, ‘‘ since his 
 physician declares that the only chance of saving him 
 will be his native air.” 
 
 ‘‘ Psha, do not tell me of physicians,” replied Mr. 
 Dormer, gaily; “happiness is a more potent physician 
 than any of the College ; and, I will venture to prophesy 
 that the sight of his darling Fanny, once more restored 
 to her bloom and her smiles, and in the road to present 
 him with a grandson, would do more for him than all 
 the prescriptions of a dozen formal old fools, that do not 
 know any thing about his complaint.” 
 
 Contrary, however, to Mr. Dormer’s predictions. 
 Lord Alberton, on his second visit, found that Mr. Le- 
 vison’s disposition towards him had not improved; on 
 the contrary, he manifested considerable coolness and 
 testiness, and, at last, plainly informed him that he should 
 be very well content to receive his visits, if it were not 
 evident, that, though they were ostensibly paid to him, 
 they were in reality only intended for his daughter. 
 
THE MOTHEK. 
 
 71 () 
 
 “ It would be hypocrisy, sir, which 1 am sure you 
 would despise,” returned Alberton, ‘‘if I were to say 
 that I did not hope, when I entered this house, I should 
 see Fanny, Yet, if you object to it, I will unrepiningly 
 submit to your will; and hope, by so doing, you will 
 allow me to devote more of my time to you.” 
 
 “ No, no — my dear boy — I cannot expect that,” re- 
 plied Mr. Levison, softened by the mildness and humi- 
 lity .with which his young friend addressed him. “You 
 have had your share of trouble and sorrow, and more 
 than your share — at your age, I had never known what 
 it was to grieve for an hour; and yet, I am sure, I was 
 not half so deserving of happiness as you are. But, how- 
 ever, it would be very unreasonable to expect you to 
 come to pass your hours with a fretful, sick old man, 
 without something to compensate for it; and I am, I 
 dare say, very unreasonable in being vexed at your see- 
 ing Fanny — only recollect what I have said, Denzil, and 
 do not take advantage of the opportunities given her. 
 She has always been an obedient child — do not you now 
 tempt her to be otherwise!” 
 
 “ I should despise myself, sir, were I capable of such 
 a thought as abusing your confidence,” replied Alberton, 
 in a tone of despondency. 
 
 “ Well, well, I can trust you,” returned Mr. Levison, 
 “ and so you may go and seek her, if you will.” 
 
 Lord Alberton accepted the permission — but it was 
 with a heavy heart; and Fanny’s tearful eyes, as she re- 
 plied to his greeting, convinced him that her father bad 
 been equally explicit with her; and that therefore his 
 intentions could no longer be liable to mistake. By de- 
 grees, the constraint and embarrassment, which iincer- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 717 
 
 tainty on the one side, and the fear of misapprehension 
 on the other, had given rise to, wore off; and Alberton 
 once more felt himself at ease, and in perfect confidence 
 with the long-worshipped idol of his affections. 
 
 Long and painfully interesting was the conversation 
 that ensued — for Fanny had yet to learn many particulars 
 of that sad story, of which she had hitherto heard only 
 the outlines; and never had she appeared so lovely in 
 the eyes of Alberton, as while weeping, with the len- 
 derest commiseration, over the sorrows and sufferings 
 of his unfortunate mother. Often, too, did a deep blush 
 dye her cheek, as he delicately and distantly alluded to 
 the error which had so long overclouded his prospects, 
 and at times almost shaken reason from her seat; an 
 error which had been so fixed in his mother’s mind, that, 
 even to the last moment of her life, she had been per- 
 suaded that she was right. 
 
 Of his future prospects, Alberton dared not now 
 speak — but to Fanny his silence was eloquence; she felt 
 that she was beloved — that she had ever been beloved — 
 and she tried to shut out the future from her thoughts, 
 and enjoy only her present happiness. But day after day 
 glided away, and Mr. Levison became impatient to com- 
 mence his journey — Mrs. Charles Levison was pro- 
 nounced sufficiently strong to bear travelling, and no plea 
 remaining for longer delay, Lord Alberton was com- 
 pelled to hear from Mr. Levison that his next visit 
 would be the last, as they should start at an early hour 
 on the following morning. 
 
 ‘‘ But, if I should visit the neighbourhood of the Hall, 
 in the course of a few weeks, sir,” demanded Alberton, 
 
 “ the doors of that hospitable residence, which sheltered 
 my infancy, and ” 
 
718 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 “ If you should come, Albertoii, I will not say that I 
 would shut my doors against you,” interrupted Mr. Le- 
 vison; ‘‘but I should be very sorry to hear that it is the 
 intention of the Earl of Raeburn to annoy me in my last 
 retreat — by taking up his residence in my neighbourhood. 
 Tell me, is that what you mean, when you ask permission 
 to visit me?” 
 
 “ It is not, sir — my father has never hinted such an 
 intenrt,ion — on the contrary, I believe the residence he 
 possesses there, will, as soon as the necessary deeds can be 
 prepared, become my property; and, in that event ** 
 
 Mr. Levison hesitated a moment, as Lord Alberton 
 
 looked earnestly to him for an answer “ In that 
 
 event,” he returned, “we may meet again.” 
 
 Even with this hope, however, the parting was one of 
 deep and melancholy foreboding on all sides; but no 
 one appeared more keenly to regret it, than Mrs. Charles 
 Levison, who could not conceal her dissatisfaction at the 
 thought of being removed, for an indefinite period, into the 
 gloomy, dismal country. 
 
 “You will write to me, Fanny?” whispered Lord 
 Alberton. 
 
 “I shall write'to Rosa,” replied*Fanny, blushing, “and 
 one letter will do for both — or, if I have anything par- 
 ticular to say, I will write to you,” she added, recollect- 
 ing herself, I do not know why I should hesitate to 
 do so.” 
 
 “ Nor I, indeed, dearest girl !” he returned, with a 
 look of rapture. 
 
 Fanny’s first letter, however, was addressed to Miss 
 'Somerville; and Lord Alberton was somewhat disap- 
 ' pointed that it was so; yet, upon reading it, he could 
 scarcely be surprised, for it contained the most mournful 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 719 
 
 predictions that the journey would not benefit her father, 
 who had appeared to sink rapidly under the fatigue, 
 though they had travelled very slowly, until the last day, 
 when he became so impatient to reach the Hall, that he 
 insisted on going on, though evidently very unequal to 
 the task. 
 
 ‘‘The cause of this,” continued Fanny, “was, it ap- 
 pears, his anxiety to meet his solicitor, Mr. Goodwin, 
 who had been summoned to meet him, and was waiting 
 our arrival. Weak and exhausted as he was, my poor 
 father would not retire to his room, but remained in the 
 drawing-room with Goodwin, to whom he has been giv- 
 ing instructions, which I suppose my poor cousin’s 
 death rendered necessary. They have been together now 
 more than an hour, and I have taken the opportunity to 
 write to you, as the post will go from hence to-night. 
 When I write again, to-morrow, I fervently pray I may 
 have better news for you !” 
 
 “ What are you looking at, so earnestly, Rosa ?” de- 
 manded Mr. Dormer, who saw that, while Lord Alberton 
 was reading this hasty note, which she had given into his 
 hands, she had carelessly taken up the envelope, and ap- 
 peared at once surprised and agitated. ' 
 
 “ Read, dear uncle !” she replied, at that moment 
 giving him the paper, “ My eyes seem dim — yet I fear 
 that 
 
 “ Good God ! it is all over !” interrupted Mr. Dor- 
 mer, who had cast his eyes over the words she pointed 
 to in the envelope. “ My poor old friend is dead !” 
 
 He then read aloud the intelligence, which >vas written, 
 
720 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 it appeared, by Susan, Miss Levison’s maid, and was as 
 follows : 
 
 “ Madam, 
 
 “ Having" found this letter all ready to go by 
 the post, on my lady’s desk, I thought it best to send it, 
 for fear you should be uneasy at not hearing from her, 
 as she is not able to write another, on account of her 
 great grief for the loss of my poor master, who died this 
 evening, at seven o’clock, just after Miss Fanny had 
 sealed her letter, having been taken speechless almost 
 directly he got to his own home ; and, indeed, we ail 
 thought he would have died on the road ; but he had his 
 wish granted, to live to reach his home, though not to 
 finish what he was so anxious about — for, it seems, he 
 was just beginning to give Mr. Goodwin his directions, 
 when his speech failed him ; and in less than an hour, he 
 was no more — dying quite calm, and without a sigh — so 
 easy, indeed, that we did not know exactly the minute 
 that the breath left him. I have no more to add, but that 
 we are all in great grief, and remain 
 
 “ Your obedient servant, 
 
 “ Susan Price.” 
 
 “ Poor, poor Fanny !” exclaimed Lord Alberton, after 
 some moments of silent grief. 
 
 ‘‘And poor, poor Rachel,” rejoined Mr. Dormer. 
 “ Our attempts to serve her have, it seems, been fruitless 
 — and she has a double misfortune to mourn !” 
 
 “ One, however, that I trust will be only nominal,” 
 returned Alberton, “ and, fortunately, she is of too calm 
 and easy a disposition, to suffer even real evils to prey 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 721 
 
 long upon her mind. But Fanny — so ardently, so affec- 
 tionately attached to her father — her mind, too, already 
 weakened by the late melancholy events 
 
 It was unfortunate, most unfortunate,” replied Mr. 
 Dormer, still seeming to reflect upon the subject which 
 he had before spoken of. Yet, I trust, all will yet be 
 well! 'Poor Levison,” he continued, the close of his 
 life has been indeed a stormy one.” 
 
 Lord Raeburn at this moment entered to pay his usual 
 morning visit, and, with unfeigned sorrow, he heard the 
 intelligence of Mr. Levison’s death — sorrow which was 
 considerably aggravated by the knowledge that the latter 
 had never pardoned him, for the mortification which he 
 had occasioned him. 
 
 You will, of course, write to Fanny by return of 
 post,” said Lord Alberton, drawing Rosa aside. 
 
 She assented. 
 
 Tell her then, dear Rosa, that not in words only, 
 but in heart, do I deeply, sincerely sympathise with her 
 — tell her that I mourn with her the loss of him who was 
 indeed a father to me; and say, too, that, if I have her 
 permission, and that of her respected aunt, I shall con- 
 sider it my duty to come down immediately, and perform 
 the last office of respect to his remains.” 
 
 But why not write yourself?” demanded Miss 
 
 Somerville ; “ Fanny can have no reason ” 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, no, I cannot, dare not trust myself to write 
 now,” he replied ; and Rosa, ever ready to oblige, imme- 
 diately promised to obey him. 
 
 To the great disappointment both of Miss Somerville 
 and Lord Alberton, the next communication was from 
 Mrs. Charles Levison. Fanny, she said, was still too 
 
 4 z 
 
722 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 much agitated to Avrite, and had commissioned her to reply 
 to the former’s letter. 
 
 Lord Alberton’s ofter was declined, for many reasons, 
 Avhich, the writer said, would be at sonle future time ex- 
 plained ; but Mr. Dormer’s presence was most anxiously 
 desired, if he could bear the fatigue and trouble of the 
 journey. 
 
 ‘‘Mamma, and my uncle Lazenby, who has just re- 
 turned from South America, Avhere we thought he had 
 died ten years ago, are both here,” continued Mrs. 
 Charles Levison, “ and have undertaken to superintend 
 every thing — for poor aunt Rachel is quite overcome 
 with grief, as Avell as Fanny. I am better myself than I 
 could have expected, and the boy thrives astonishingly. 
 Mamma and I are quite good friends, at present — but I 
 don’t know how long it Avill last. 
 
 “And now, dear Rosa, I’ve got a great secret to tell 
 you — and, mind you don’t tell any body, because mamma 
 has charged me to say nothing about it yet. And poor 
 Fanny does not knoAv it, though she must know it too 
 soon — and that is, that she is left without a farthing of 
 fortune — for the first thing poor Mr. Levison did, when 
 he got home, Avas to bid GoodAvin throAv the will he had 
 made into the* fire, and begin a new one; and, before he 
 could finish three lines, the poor old man was taken 
 speechless — so that there’s no Avill, and poor Fanny 
 being illegitimate, cannot claim anything. I am sure, 
 for my part, I Avould Avillingly give her half my share — 
 but, then, mamma and my uncle Lazenby say that it is 
 not mine, but my little Charles’s — so that, after all, what 
 a fortune he will be heir to! Poor Fanny, you cannot 
 think how I grieve for her — but she shall not want, that 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 723 
 
 I’ll take care of, though mamma says it’s fine talking, and 
 I may marry again, and then- - - "but I’m sure I don’t 
 think I ever shall marry again, though every body tells 
 me I look more fascinating than ever, in my widow’s 
 weeds.” 
 
 Lord Alberton, into whose impatient hands Rosa had 
 given the letter, the moment it arrived, without even 
 breaking the seal, now threw it from him with a vehe- 
 mence that startled her. 
 
 ‘‘ And my noble-minded, generous-hearted girl, to be 
 
 at the mercy of such unfeeling but I will not waste 
 
 a thought on them ! Where is your uncle, Rosa? 1 must 
 see him, directly.” 
 
 “ I am here, Alberton — what is the matter?” exclaimed 
 Mr. Dormer, entering. 
 
 “ Let Miss Somerville read that letter to you, sir — I 
 cannot,” he replied; “but I will await your decision, 
 and then ” 
 
 “ Read, read, Rosa;” interrupted Mr. Dormer. “ 1 
 am all impatience !” 
 
 Miss Somerville read the letter aloud not, how- 
 
 ever, without several Interruptions from Mr. Dormer, 
 whose surprise, indignation, and sorrow, were expressed 
 with the utmost vehemence. 
 
 “ Go!” he repeated; “ yes, I would go to the world’s 
 end, in such a cause! And Frank Lazenby, too, the pre- 
 cious villain! — he, who after tiring out all his friends at 
 home, and spending a fortune of other people’s money, 
 was glad to make his exit at the expense of my brother 
 
 and myself— but the villain will not — dare not! Yes, 
 
 yes — I will go — and put a stop, I trust, to their abomi- 
 nable schemes ! Poor, poor girl ! and it is all owing to 
 
724 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 my interference, in favour of Ptacliel — but it cannot, 
 shall not be! I will force them to do justice to both !” 
 
 It is not the loss of fortune,” observed Lord Alber- 
 ton, when Mr. Dormer at length paused, but it is the 
 wound her feelings will receive — the insolent pity, the 
 
 insulting commiseration of ” 
 
 ‘‘ She shall not be exposed to it ! They will not, 
 surely, dare communicate to her the situation in which 
 she stands, before the remains of her father are cold in 
 their grave,” returned Mr. Dormer; ‘‘ and then I shall 
 be there to shield her.” 
 
 And I am forbidden to interpose,” observed Lord 
 Alberton, in a tone of deep regret. 
 
 It is, perhaps, better that you should not be there,” 
 replied Mr. Dormer after a few moments’ reflection; 
 “ though, I confess, Ido not see the necessity of your 
 being forbidden — but as it is so, you cannot, with any 
 propriety, go.” 
 
 Lord Alberton was obliged to acquiesce in this deci- 
 sion; and, with a heavy heart, he beheld Mr. Dormer, 
 accompanied only by his own man, depart by the mail 
 the same evening for Cumberland. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 725 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 There is no traitor like 
 
 He whose domestic treason plants the poniard 
 Within the breast that trusted to his truth. — Byron. 
 
 The succession of inelanclioly and afflicting events, 
 which Fanny Levison had been doomed to encounter 
 within the last few months, had indeed rendered her 
 very unequal to bear with fortitude the loss of her kind 
 and indulgent father; but her grief, heavy as it was, 
 seemed in this instance scarcely to equal that which over- 
 whelmed the usually calm, resigned, and patient Rachel; 
 and, for the first time, Fanny found herself called upon 
 to act the part of a comforter and adviser to her, on whom 
 she had herself been accustomed to lean, on all occasions 
 of distress or difficulty. 
 
 It would be doing Miss Rachel injustice, to say that 
 she was not a deep and sincere mourner for the brother 
 to whom she had been from childhood tenderly attached; 
 but it was not his death alone that she so bitterly 
 
 mourned for, as she had often, on similar occasions, 
 
 observed — 
 
 “ Death is a debt we all must pay, 
 And will come, when it will come 
 
 And therefore she would have considered it her duty 
 to bear the bereavement with due submission; but, in 
 this instance, she was aware that the blow had fallen at a 
 moment the most unpropitious for the fate of those left 
 
726 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 behind; and her tears, though apparently given to the 
 dead, were in reality more than half bestowed upon the 
 living. 
 
 She had, indeed, in the first moments of grief and ter- 
 ror at her brother’s sudden decease, paid little attention 
 to the solicitor’s audible regrets for its having happened 
 so inopportunely— at so peculiarly unfortunate a moment 
 — but, when the first tumult of sorrow had a little sub- 
 sided, and Fanny, ever the chief object of her anxiety, 
 had yielded to her persuasions, and retired from the 
 chamber of death, Mr. Goodwin’s pointed remark, that 
 nothing could have happened more unfortunately for the 
 poor young lady, induced her to require an explanation; 
 and she heard, with horror and consternation, that her 
 brother’s premature death had left the child of his love 
 — her, for whose sake he had lived a life of privacy, 
 heaping up yearly more than a third of his income, that 
 he might leave her a splendid fortune — totally unprovided 
 for — absolutely penniless, and dependant on the charity 
 of his heir. 
 
 ‘‘ And, by the will that he so obstinately insisted on 
 my putting in the fire,” concluded Mr. Goodwin, ‘‘ every 
 thing, with the exception of a few trifling legacies, and 
 some annuities to his servants, was hers ; 'and what he 
 could want to make a new one for, I cannot surmise, ex- 
 cept to appoint a guardian to the infant, who must, of 
 course, inherit the estates ” 
 
 “ Fanny must not know this, Mr. Goodwin, at pre- 
 sent,” interrupted the bewildered Rachel. 
 
 Goodwin protested he was only led to speak of it now, 
 by his great respect for the young lady; and then retired, 
 to make his court to one with whom he knew this secret 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 T2T 
 
 would be welcome. To Mrs. Lazenby, the mercenary, 
 
 purse-proud mother of Mrs. Levison, he proceeded with- 
 out delay, to congratulate her upon the prospect that her 
 grandson, upon attaining his majority, would be one of the 
 richest commoners in England; there not being a single 
 incumbrance on the property, but the widow’s jointure, 
 which had been settled upon her after her marriage. 
 
 In a few hours, Mrs. Lazenby, whose anxiety to see 
 her daughter offered her a plausible excuse, arrived at 
 the Hall, together with her brother-in-law, Francis La- 
 zenby ; and, after a proper display of sorrow and asto- 
 nishment at the melancholy event, with which they affected 
 to have been previously unacquainted, kindly undertook 
 to superintend the arrangements, for which poor Rachel, 
 for the first time in her life, acknowledged she was to- 
 tally unfit. 
 
 The seeming kindness and sympathy of Mrs. Lazenby, 
 soon drew from the unsuspicious old lady an avowal of 
 the cause that swelled her grief so much beyond its na- 
 tural limits ; but Rachel still shrank from avowing that 
 she was herself nearly destitute, until Mrs. Lazenby 
 hinted that Fanny could not be considered very unfortu- 
 nate, while she (Miss Rachel) possessed such ample means 
 of compensating her for the loss — and then the truth 
 broke out ; and she acknowledged, with floods of tears, 
 that her own handsome fortune was dwindled down to a 
 paltry annuity of less than a hundred a year. 
 
 “ It will keep us from want, to be sure,” continued the 
 poor old lady, weeping bitterly ; “ and, if it were only 
 myself, it would be plenty — but to thiidi that I should 
 
 live to see that dear girl and' to think, too, what she 
 
 will suffer, when she comes to hear the whole truth.” 
 
72S 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Mrs. Lazenby Avas not naturally very prone to yield to 
 the weakness of compassion — but she could not entirely 
 suppress a slight feeling of the sort, toAvards the unsus- 
 picious, open-hearted being, who thus confided her trou- 
 bles to her ; though at the same time she suppressed her 
 knowledge of a fact, which would have had a much 
 greater tendency to dry poor Miss Rachel tears, than the 
 common-place condolements which she uttered upon this 
 occasion. 
 
 It had not, indeed, escaped Mrs. Lazenby’s recollec- 
 tion, though Miss Rachel appeared unacquainted Avith the 
 fact, that she was entitled to a share of her brother’s per- 
 sonal property, which would effectually place her beyond 
 the confines of poverty, and enable her to provide for her 
 darling Fanny, in the event of her death. On this point, 
 however, Mrs. Lazenby remained silent; it Avould be 
 time enough, she thought, to surrender an advantage, Avhen 
 it could be no longer held. And she therefore continued 
 to speak of the infant Charles, as the undoubted heir to 
 all the late Mr. Levison’s property, adroitly at the same 
 time lamenting that his guardians, of Avhom of course she 
 was one, Avould not have it in their power to do what their 
 hearts would dictate, since they must be accountable to 
 him for every farthing of his property. 
 
 The threatened visit of Lord Alberton, however, put 
 to flight all Mrs. Lazenby and her brother-in-law’s 
 schemes. They kneAv that though the simple-minded Rache] 
 might be cajoled, it was not likely that Lord Alberton, 
 Avho, they were informed by Emma, was still devotedly 
 attached to Fanny, Avould be silent Avhere her interest 
 Avas so deeply concerned ; but, contrary to their expec- 
 tations, and from a motive completely beyond their com- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 729 
 
 prehension, Fanny expressed herself decidedly against 
 accepting* Lord Alberton^s offer ; and Rachel, to whom 
 her wish was law, commissioned Mrs. Charles Levi- 
 son to convey the rejection of it, as kindly as possible. 
 The invitation to Mr. Dormer was entirely an interpo- 
 lation by Emma. ' She was already sick of the domination 
 of her mother and uncle Lazenby, though without the 
 spirit to oppose it, or the address to devise any other plan 
 to extricate herself, than bringing down her other uncle, 
 Mr. Dormer, who was also the trustee of her marriage- 
 settlement, and by whose interference she hoped to be 
 able to accomplish her plan of returning to London. 
 
 Not even Lord Alberton himself could have been more 
 unwelcome than Mr. Dormer, when he unexpectedly en- 
 tered, unannounced, the room where Mrs. Lazenby was, 
 with her daughter and brother-in-law; the latter of 
 whom had still more cogent reasons than herself, for 
 wishing the intruder away. 
 
 Both, however, possessed too much shrewdness not to 
 dissemble their chagrin — but Mrs. Lazenby knew too 
 well the character of Mr. Dormer, to hope that she could 
 deceive or cajole him ; and she shrunk with dismay be- 
 fore his keen eye, as he questioned her respecting the in- 
 telligence which Emma’s letter had conveyed. 
 
 His commendation of her silence on the subject to 
 Fanny, however, somewhat re-assured her, and she re- 
 tired to prepare, as she said. Miss Rachel and Fanny to 
 see him, but in reality to recover from her own conster- 
 nation and surprise. 
 
 The sight of one who had been the intimate, and, 
 until within a short period, the most confidential friend 
 of her father, revived for a time the most poignant sen- 
 
 5 A 
 
730 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 sations of grief in Fanny’s bosom; but she became at 
 length more at ease, and conversed with him until she 
 received a hint from Mr. Dormer that she would leave 
 her aunt and himself together; which Fanny immediately 
 complied with, and poor Miss Rachel had the satisfaction 
 of bewailing to his friendly ear the downfall of Fanny’s 
 golden prospects. 
 
 It matters little whether Fanny has a few thousands 
 less or more,” he returned, “ for she will not be less va- 
 luable, I know, in Alb er ton’s sight. Not that I myself con- 
 sider money in so trivial a light — but he has plenty, and he 
 can please himself; and as to you, my old friend, I do not 
 imagine you will have much cause to complain — for your 
 brother must have saved a good round sum, and that yon 
 are, of course, entitled to share with^he heir.” 
 
 Rachel was astonished — but she acknowledged it had 
 taken a weight off her mind, the heaviest she had ever 
 felt; not for her own sake, but Fanny’s; and she then 
 proceeded, with evident satisfaction, to state that her bro- 
 ther had on one occasion mentioned to her that Fanny’s 
 fortune would not be less than fifty thousand pounds. 
 
 “ That is double what I expected,” replied Mr. Dor- 
 mer ; “ and will enable you, with a little of my assistance, 
 to save the poor girl the mortification of knowing any- 
 thing about it.” 
 
 Rachel was willing to trust all to his management — 
 but he acquiesced in her observation, that all must be 
 deferred until after the funeral ; and that the only point 
 to be attended to, was to preserve the secrecy hitherto 
 kept on the subject towards Fanny. 
 
 On the following day, the remains of Mr. Levison 
 were deposited in the family vault, amid the tears and 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 731 
 
 prayers of many who had been the objects of his steady 
 benevolence ; and the next morning-, Mr. Dormer, hav- 
 ing prevailed on Fanny to accompany Mrs. Charles 
 Levison into the garden, proposed to Miss Rachel a 
 formal examination into her brother’s affairs, Mr, Good- 
 win having been summoned for that purpose. 
 
 Mr. Goodwin, however, either did not, or would not 
 know anything more than that he believed the deceased 
 Mr. Levison held considerable property in the funds; 
 for which, of course, the necessary documents would be 
 found, either in his cabinet or in his strong-box, which, 
 of course, was in Miss Rachel’s possession. 
 
 ‘‘You had better examine those places at once,” ob- 
 served Mr. Dormer, addressing Rachel. 
 
 “You have all the keys, Mrs. Lazenby,” said Rachel, 
 looking at the latter. 
 
 Mrs. Lazenby arose. 
 
 “ They are in my dressing-room,” she observed, “ I 
 will fetch them.” 
 
 Mr. Dormer muttered to himself, in a dissatisfied 
 
 voice “ Mr. Levison used to keep a very large sum 
 
 by him — for he told me so ; and I tried to persuade him 
 to discontinue the practice,” he added, in a louder tone, 
 addressing Mr. Goodwin. 
 
 “ It might be so, sir — but I had no, opportunities of 
 knowing — Mr. Levison was very singular in his habits 
 — very suspicious — and I know but little of his affairs, 
 though I have been his legal adviser for more than 
 twenty years.” 
 
 Mrs. Lazenby returned 
 
 “ I cannot find the keys,” she observed, “ and, indeed, 
 upon consideration, I rather think I must have carried 
 
732 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHEP. 
 
 them home with me, when I went there on Thursday, 
 and have left them there.” 
 
 Mr. Dormer looked displeased, but the negligence 
 could, as Mrs. Lazenby observed, be remedied in a few 
 hours ; and a messenger was dispatched to request Mr. 
 Francis Lazenby, who had returned to his sister’s resi- 
 dence immediately after the funeral, to search into the 
 places indicated by her. 
 
 The messenger returned — Mr. Lazenby had gone on 
 a shooting excursion for some days ; but the housekeeper 
 had made the necessary search, and the result was, that 
 the keys were not there. 
 
 “ This is strange, unaccountable negligence !” observed 
 Mr. Dormer, in an angry tone, looking at Mrs. Lazenby. 
 
 The lady indignantly replied, and a quarrel seemed 
 likely to ensue, which was only prevented by Mrs. 
 Charles Levison’s entering the room with the lost keys, 
 which she had found upon the seat of an arbor, at the 
 bottom of the garden. 
 
 Mrs. Lazenby coloured violently — it was impossible 
 that she could now vindicate herself from the charge of 
 carelessness, for she must undoubtedly have laid them 
 there. 
 
 So said Mr. Dormer, as he took them from Emma, 
 and proceeded to open the cabinet, in which Mr. Levi- 
 son had been accustomed to deposit his valuables. 
 
 It was empty, or at least its contents were only value- 
 less papers, which appeared to have been recently thrown 
 together in confusion, by some pers'on who had ransacked 
 the contents. 
 
 “ Are you sure,” said Mr. Dormer, addressing Miss 
 Rachel, ‘‘that it was here that your brother ” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 733 
 
 ‘‘ Sure ?” she repeated, with astonishment, “ the last 
 words I ever heard my poor brother utter, was a direc- 
 tion to me to open this cabinet, and let Thomas place in 
 it the box, which was brought from the carriage. I saw 
 it done — locked it — and gave the keys to my brother, in 
 the presence of Mr. Goodwin.” 
 
 “You did so, madam,” observed Goodwin, who had 
 till this moment remained silent. 
 
 “ Then there has been foul play !” said Mr. Dormer ; 
 “ of that, there can be no further doubt — and your negli- 
 gence, culpable negligence, Mrs. Lazenby, has supplied 
 the means of carrying it into effect !” 
 
 Mrs. Lazenby sat down silent, and in the most painful 
 confusion ; and Mr. Dormer, after a few moments’ reflec- 
 tion, crossed the room to her, and addressed her in a low 
 voice. 
 
 “ Have you nothing to guide your suspicions on this 
 subject ?” he demanded. “ Have you any recollection of 
 having the keys where they were found ?” 
 
 “ I have never been there at all,” she replied ; “ but I 
 feared to say so, at first, for my mind misgave me that it 
 would turn out that some improper use had been made 
 of them — for I know that they were in reality locked in 
 my dressing-case.” 
 
 “ And who had access to that,” demanded Mr. Dormer, 
 “ besides yourself?” 
 
 “No one, of course, but Catherine, my maid,” she 
 Replied. 
 
 “ Let Catherine be called,” said Mr. Dormer, quickly. 
 
 “ She went home to prepare for my return, last night,” 
 observed Mrs. Lazenby. 
 
 “ The plot thickens, I see,” returned Mr. Dormer, 
 
734 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “but we will send after her, though I doubt if she will 
 be found.” 
 
 “ Good Heavens ; you surely do not suspect 
 
 “ I do suspect,” interrupted Mr. Dormer, “ that a vile 
 scheme has, for the present, succeeded — we shall see 
 whether it will eventually triumph !” 
 
 The messenger, who had before been despatched to 
 Myrtle Grove, Mrs. Lazenby’s residence, was again 
 summoned. 
 
 “ Did you see Mrs. Lazenby’s maid, Catherine ?” de- 
 manded Mr. Dormer, “ when you were at Myrtle 
 Grove, George?” 
 
 George replied in the negative. 
 
 “Nor hear any thing of her ?” said Mrs, Lazenby. 
 
 George hesitated. 
 
 “ It is of the utmost consequence that you speak out, 
 George,” observed Mr. Dormer, hastily. 
 
 “ Why, then, the truth must be told, sir,” returned 
 the man. “ I did ask for Mrs. Kitty, when I found Mr. 
 Lazenby was not at home, for I thought she was the 
 most likely person to know all about the keys ; and the 
 housekeeper was quite surprised, for she said she had 
 never seen anything of Mrs. Kitty — but a man had 
 brought a note from her yesterday, and fetched away all 
 her clothes, as she said she was going off to London with 
 Miss Levison, instead of coming back to Myrtle Grove. 
 The housekeeper said she somehow thought there was 
 something very odd in the story, but of course she let the 
 clothes go, and when I told her ” 
 
 “ It is too plain, then, it is she who has committed the 
 robbery !” interrupted Mrs. Lazenby, “and yet, I thought 
 I could have trusted her with ” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 735 
 
 “Do not be hasty in your conclusions,’’ observed Mr. 
 Dormer; “appearances certainly are against her — but I 
 
 suspect, though she may have been made a tool ” He 
 
 stopped, observing the man’s attention fixed earnestly upon 
 him, 
 
 “You may go, George,” he observed, “and be silent 
 as to what you have heard. Mr. Goodwin,” he continued, 
 “you will have no objection, I trust, to accompany me 
 to Myrtle Grove, that we may further investigate this 
 affair ; and, if necessary, seek the assistance of the nearest 
 magistrate.” 
 
 Mr. Goodwin declared his readiness, and they almost 
 instantly departed. 
 
 “ I cannot imagine what Mr. Dormer can expect to 
 learn there?” observed Miss Rachel, after they were 
 gone. 
 
 Mrs. Lazenby, to whom this was addressed, made no 
 reply — it would have been evident, indeed, to any one 
 less unsuspicious, and more versed in the ways of the 
 world than the simple-minded Rachel, that her companion 
 looked forward to the result of Mr. Dormer’s investiga- 
 tion with considerable uneasiness and anxiety. 
 
 It was night before they returned. 
 
 “We have not misspent our time, I can assure you,” 
 observed Mr. Dormer, in reply to an observation by Miss 
 Rachel, as to the time they had been absent — “ for we 
 have ridden nearly thirty miles.” 
 
 “ And the result of your exertions ?” said Mrs. La- 
 zenby, in an inquiring tone. 
 
 “Just what I expected,” returned Mr. Dormer; 
 
 “ your maid Catherine did not quit the country alone — 
 Mr. Francis Lazenby having kindly condescended to 
 meet her at Carlisle, and escort her on to London.” 
 
736 
 
 THE GirSi^ MOTHER. 
 
 It was some time before either Rachel or Fanny could 
 be brought to believe, or to comprehend the whole truth 
 — so difficult was it for them to imagine it possible that 
 any one, bearing the character and rank of a gentleman, 
 could have been guilty of such an act. 
 
 It was, however, too true — and Mr. Dormer, while 
 he detailed the measures he had taken to effect, if possible, 
 the apprehension of the delinquent — having sent off an 
 express to London, and intending to depart thither early 
 in the morning, acknowledged that he had little hopes, 
 from the circumstanc-e of his being so many hours in ad- 
 vance of them, that the villain would be taken. 
 
 Mortified, as she evidently was, at having been the 
 means of Introducing her unworthy relative, and there- 
 fore given him the opportunity of effecting his scandalous 
 robbery, Mrs. Lazenby appeared to suffer still more from 
 the publicity which the means Mr. Dormer had adopted, 
 and intended to pursue, was likely to give to the affair ; 
 and she resented what she styled his precipitancy, with so 
 much intemperance of language, that Mr. Dormer be- 
 came at length provoked, and retaliated upon her so 
 warmly, that she quitted the room, observing that she 
 should not return to it, until he had left it. 
 
 Fanny Avould have interposed her good offices to recon- 
 cile them, but Mrs. Lazenby flounced away, without 
 deigning to listen to her. 
 
 “ Let her alone, my dear,” observed Mr, Dormer. 
 “ I have but little time to remain, and that can be much 
 better employed than in quarrelling with a foolish self- 
 opinionated woman.” 
 
 Mr. Dormer had, indeed, a subject of much more im- 
 portance to occupy his thoughts ; for he felt it incumbent 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 737 
 
 upon him, before he quitted the aunt and niece, to place 
 before them the extent of their situation, and induce 
 them, if possible, to accept an asylum with him for the 
 present, and thus prevent the possibility of having their 
 feelings wounded by being made to feel that they were 
 no longer the mistresses of the Hall. 
 
 It was some time before Fanny could bring herself to 
 believe that what she heard was correct. On her own 
 situation she had never for a moment reflected — for her 
 sorrow had been too deep, to allow her to trouble her- 
 self with pecuniary concerns; but though she knew, from 
 her father’s often-repeated observations, that his landed 
 estates would descend to his male heir, it had never oc- 
 curred to her mind that her aunt would not still remain 
 the mistress of the Hall; and she now appeared shocked 
 at the idea that the latter should be expected to give up 
 the station she had filled for so many years, and would 
 literally have to seek a new home. But, even now, she 
 knew not the full extent of the evil, for Rachel’s expres- 
 sive silence on the subject of the loss of her fortune, con- 
 strained Mr. Dormer also to avoid speaking of it. 
 
 With regard to his proposal of returning to London, 
 and residing with him and his niece for the present, Ra- 
 chel declined giving a positive answer, observing that 
 Fanny and her would talk the subject over, when they 
 became a little more calm and composed, and let him 
 know their determination in a few days; and, with this 
 assurance, Mr. Dormer quitted them, in order to take 
 as much rest as he could, before he commenced his jour- 
 ney to the metropolis. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIJL 
 
 Ilis years but young, but his experience old — 
 
 His head unmellow’d, but his judgment ripe — 
 
 And, in a word 
 
 ■ Complete in feature and in mind, 
 
 Wilh all good grace to grace a gentleman. — Shakespeare. 
 
 The return of Mr. Dormer to town, while it in some 
 measure relieved Lord Alberton’s anxiety regarding 
 Fanny’s health, gave him also considerable uneasiness on 
 her account; for he feared Miss Rachel’s unsuspicious 
 disposition, added to the natural disinclination which she 
 must, of course, feel to quit her home, would induce her 
 to put more faith in the professions of kindness which 
 she might at present receive from Mrs. Lazenby, than 
 they deserved, and thus, perhaps, expose herself and 
 Fanny to mortification. 
 
 All attempts failed to trace Francis Lazenby, after his 
 arrival in London with the unfortunate girl, whom he 
 had seduced to join in his nefarious plans; but Mr. Dor- 
 mer had the satisfaction to find that there remained in 
 the hands of the late Mr. Levison’s banker, a conside- 
 rably larger sum than he had anticipated; and this, of 
 course, Rachel was entitled to share with the infant heir. 
 
 The termination of Fanny and her aunt’s residence at 
 Levison Flail was, however, much nearer than either 
 Mr. Dormer or Lord Alberton apprehended; for, in 
 reply to the first letter of the former to Rachel, she re- 
 quested him not to write again until he heard from her, 
 as Fanny and herself intended to leave the Flail in a few 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 739 
 
 days, and had not yet determined which way they should 
 bend their course. 
 
 Lord Alberton and his father were together, when Mr. 
 Dormer came with the letter containing this intelligence, 
 and though it had hitherto seemed a tacit agreement 
 not to speak of Fanny Levison before the Earl, Mr. 
 Dormer’s vexation now got the better of all reserve, and 
 he execrated Mrs. Lazenby’s conduct, declaring that he 
 would never acknowledge her as his sister again, if he 
 found that she had been the means of this sudden resolu- 
 tion. 
 
 A full explanation of all that had occurred since the 
 death of Mr. Levison, was now entered into by Mr. 
 Dormer, in consequence of the questions which were 
 asked by the Earl, who at once avowed his intention to 
 write to Miss Rachel immediately, and offer to her and 
 her niece the use of the mansion he had purchased, but 
 never seen, within a few miles from Levison Hall. 
 
 Mr. Dormer shook his head. 
 
 “You may try your powers of persuasion, my lord,” 
 he observed; ^‘but I am very much mistaken in the 
 character of Fanny Levison, if you succeed.” 
 
 “ And why not?” demanded the Earl. “ Do you 
 think that she is as implacable as her father, and that my 
 sins are never to be forgiven ?” 
 
 “ I do not believe that Fanny has ever felt a moment’s 
 resentment against you,” returned Mr. Dormer. “ In 
 fact, that which was your crime in my poor old friend’s 
 eyes, was in hers your greatest merit — since it was the 
 means of rescuing her 
 
 “We will spare the remainder, my good sir,” inter- 
 rupted the Earl, smiling, though evidently not exactly 
 
740 
 
 TH-E CxIT’SY ?/rOTIIKTl 
 
 pleased ; ‘‘ 1 perfectly anticipate the compliment you 
 were about to pay me. However, I am very happy to 
 hear that she has no personal resentment towards me; 
 and now I should like to know what motive you suppose 
 will be likely to actuate her refusal of my offer.” 
 
 ‘‘ I will tell you then, candidly, that I do not believe 
 she will accept any favour from you, at present. I mean 
 to say, that her pride will recoil from being indebted to 
 you, for many reasons, which must be sufficient!}^ obvious.” 
 
 ‘‘Then it will be a false pride,” returned the Earl; 
 “for never — never can I repay the obligation which her 
 father conferred on me, in the person of my son.” 
 
 Well, there can be no objection to your trying the 
 experiment, certainly,” replied Mr. Dormer; “and, even 
 if it does not succeed, I would not have you despair 
 — a time will come, I have no doubt, when you may be 
 able to relieve yourself of all obligation.” 
 
 The sig'iiificant smile with which this was uttered, 
 and the cordial assenting one with which it was received by 
 the Earl, did not escape Lord Alberton, who, interested as 
 he was in the conversation, had not attempted to inter- . 
 fere; but who now felt considerable satisfaction in the 
 certainty, which was thus conveyed to him, that his 
 father would not view the loss of Fanny’s fortune as ren- 
 dering her a less eligible daughter-in-law than she would 
 otherwise have been. 
 
 Though convinced the time was not very far distant 
 when every obstacle would be removed that now ex- 
 isted between him and the object of his love, Alberton 
 could not, without extreme pain, contemplate the situa- 
 tion in which she was placed. He had ever been on 
 excellent terms with Mrs. Cliarles Levison, over whom 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 741 
 
 he perhaps possessed more influence than any other per- 
 son ; and he now, after some reflection with himself, re- 
 solved to write to her, at the same time that his father ad- 
 dressed Miss Rachel, and endeavour by this means to 
 learn how matters really stood. 
 
 Miss Levisotfs reply to the Earl was as Mr. Dormer 
 had predicted, a decisive, though polite, and indeed even 
 friendly, rejection of his olFer; alleging, as a motive for it, 
 that she considered that should she and Fanny remain so 
 immediately in the neighbourhood, it would only serve 
 to keep alive remembrances which it must now be their 
 study to forget. 
 
 From Mrs. Charles Levison, too. Lord Alberton re- 
 ceived, as he had requested, an immediate reply; in which, 
 after discussing at full length several other topics, which 
 were anything but interesting to him, she proceeded 
 
 “ I know, dear Denzil (you must forgive my still call- 
 ing you by that name, for I cannot, for the life of me, 
 think of you by any other,) I know, I say, that you are 
 all impatience to know about Fanny — and so I will tell 
 you at once, that Fanny is most unaccountably going to 
 leave me, to take a tour—nobody knows where — with 
 aunt Rachel ! Did you ever hear such preposterous non- 
 sense ! for them to go off on such a scheme, who never 
 were trusted, as mamma says, to make a pilgrimage farther 
 than the next village, without having some one to direct 
 and assist them ! Poor uncle Levison, if he could look 
 out of his grave, would, I am sure, be frightened at the 
 very thought of such a thing ! But, however, it is so«— 
 and I have just received a very formal notice from aunt 
 Rachel, that they shall start at six to-morrow morning ! 
 Now I can’t but think that this is all downright nonsense— 
 
74‘2 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 for, as mamma told aunt Rachel, she was quite welcome 
 to make Levison Hall her home, if it was for six months 
 to come ; and, you know, there is plenty of room for all 
 of us, without at all interfering v/ith one another ! But, 
 I don’t know how it was, from the moment mamma spoke 
 on the subject, and mentioned that it was my wish, as 
 Avell as hers, that she and Fanny should retain all their 
 present apartments, only considering the great drawing- 
 room mine, as it was not probable they Avould receive 
 much company — from that moment, aunt Rachel became 
 cool and distant ; and, in a day or two after, this ridicu- 
 lous tour was mentioned. 
 
 “ Now — between you and I — for you know I always tell 
 you all I think — I have always set it down that the match 
 between Fanny and you was as good as concluded; and 
 therefore I considered that it Avould be convenient to all 
 parties tliat Fanny should remain here, until the time ar- 
 rives when you can with propriety address her. Mamma, 
 however, who judged every body by herself, Avill have it 
 that Earl Raeburn will never consent to your marrying a 
 girl without either birth or fortune — and I fancy it was 
 mamma’s expressing her sorrow to aunt Rachel, that poor 
 Fanny was again thrown out of a good match, that gave 
 the good old lady such violent oifence— — ” 
 
 Lord Alberton had with difficulty controlled his indig- 
 nation and impatience whilst reading the first part of this 
 epistle — but the last sentence completely destroyed his 
 small remains of temper ; and, in a transport of rage, he 
 tore it into fragments, and threw it indignantly on the 
 floor. 
 
 The next moment, however, he repented this impe- 
 tuosity— for he remembered that he had yet to learn what 
 
THE GfPSY MO'JMJEK. 
 
 718 
 
 direction the travellers intended to take ; and this was 
 probably the very next piece of information Emma had 
 thought proper to give him, and certainly all that could 
 be valuable to him. 
 
 To collect together, and connect the torn pieces, now 
 became his task — and he was still busily employed at it, 
 when Mr. Dormer and Miss Somerville were announced. 
 
 Rosa’s eye glanced, with evident surprise and curiosity, 
 at his employment, and with no small degree of vexa- 
 tion, and considerable confusion, he threw the fragments 
 into his desk — thus again rendering fruitless all the pains 
 he had been taking. 
 
 It was impossible, however, for him to recover his 
 self-possession so completely as to elude Mr. Dormer’s 
 observation; and the latter, readily comprehending that on 
 one subject only it was probable Alberton’s equanimity 
 would be so shaken, took the first opportunity of leading 
 to it, by inquiring whether Lord Raeburn had received 
 the expected communication from Miss Rachel Levison. 
 
 Lord Alberton replied in the affirmative, and then, as 
 if glad of the opportunity of giving the explanation which 
 his friend’s looks demanded, he added 
 
 “ And I have been favoured, too, with a long letter 
 from Emma, Avhich I ■” 
 
 “ Had not patience to read as a whole, and therefore 
 reduced into parts,” said Mr. Dormer, laughing. I 
 guessed as much — indeed, to tell you the truth, I knew as 
 much; for Fanny has written to Rosa by the same con- 
 veyance, and she mentioned that Mrs. Charles Levison 
 was busily engaged in writing to you.” 
 
 Alberton’s eyes brightened — ‘‘ Then it is in Miss So- 
 merville’s power, probably, to give me that information 
 
744 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 which my foolish impetuosity prevented me from receiv- 
 ing,” he observed, looking at her. 
 
 “ If you mean, as to the route Fanny and her aunt will 
 take, or rather have taken,” returned Rosa, “ I am sorry 
 to say, I am as little informed as yourself ; but she has 
 promised to write from the first place that they make any 
 considerable stay at, and with this, I suppose, you must, 
 as well as me, be content. As to Emma, she could not, 
 I am sure, give you any information, except that their 
 first stage would be Carlisle; but whether they would 
 then go to the north, or to the south, she knows no more 
 than I do.” 
 
 With this, per force. Lord Alberton was compelled to 
 be content — if it could be called contentment — to pass 
 every hour in conjecturing and calculating probabilities 
 as to the course they would take, and the time that would 
 or might elapse, before Fanny would take compassion on 
 the uneasiness she must know he was suffering, by writ- 
 ing to her friend Rosa. 
 
 Week after week, however, passed away, without this 
 desirable moment arriving ; and to complete, as it seemed, 
 his uneasiness, now almost amounting to despair, — Mr. 
 Dormer’s health became so seriously affected, that his 
 physician advised him to try a few months’ residence in a 
 warmer climate, and he determined to go at once to Italy, 
 not caring, as he said, to revisit France, which had been 
 the scene of one of his greatest afflictions — the loss of 
 his amiable wife; and being also anxious to afford his 
 niece the opportunity she had often wished for — of com- 
 pleting her studies in music and painting in the land of 
 the fine arts. 
 
 It was impossible for Lord Alberton to form a 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 745 
 
 wish that his friend should delay, even for a day, a jour- 
 ney which promised to benefit him ; but the thought that 
 he should now be still farther removed from the proba- 
 bility of gaining intelligence of her who still occupied his 
 every thought, added tenfold keenness to the pangs of 
 suspense and anxiety which he now suffered. 
 
 Up to the last hour, indeed, that Mr. Dormer and his 
 niece remained in London, a hope still lingered that the 
 promised communication might yet arrive, before they 
 quitted it; but the moment which beheld their carriage 
 drive from the door of their house, on the steps of which 
 he lingered till they were out of sight, seemed to ' con- 
 sign him to hopeless despair; and he returned home 
 so utterly wretched, spiritless, and woe-begone, that his 
 father both felt and expressed his anxiety and uneasiness 
 at his appearance. 
 
 Every hour that the Earl of Raeburn had passed with 
 his son, had endeared the latter to him ; for every hour 
 gave more striking proofs of the amiable qualities of his 
 mind. There were moments, indeed, Avhen the Earl 
 shrunk, with something like a painful sense of inferiority, 
 from his noble-minded son; but the sensation soon gave 
 way to the more amiable feeling of parental pleasure and 
 pride, and he would mentally acknowledge his gratitude 
 to the all-gracious power which had conferred on him the 
 blessing of a son, who would be the prop of his declining 
 years, and the honourable representative of his otherwise 
 extinct name. 
 
 Scarcely less than himself, therefore, did the father of 
 Lord Alberton regret the dark cloud which Fanny’s false 
 pride had thrown across the brilliant prospects of the 
 latter. It was in vain that he tried to re-assure his son, 
 
 5 c 
 
746 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHEP. 
 
 by pointing out the improbability that Rachel would con- 
 sent to withdraw herself from all her former connexions; 
 and that therefore, sooner or later, they could not fail to 
 discover their retreat. Alberton, though he tried to ap- 
 pear convinced, in secret felt what he considered a pre- 
 sentiment that Fanny was lost to him for ever, and 
 yielded to a despair which his looks betrayed, though his 
 tongue refused to acknowledge it. 
 
 Anxious, if possible, to divert his son from perpetually 
 dwelling on the theme of his disappointment, Lord Rae- 
 burn now resolved no longer to delay the introduction of 
 the latter to the circle of his friends, from whom he had 
 hitherto, on the plea of precarious health, continued se- 
 cluded ; and Alberton, not much to his satisfaction, soon 
 found himself the object of universal attention, and in- 
 volved in a round of visits and engagements, which 
 scarcely left him a moment to himself. 
 
 Nearly all the EarPs connexions were military men, 
 many of high distinction, and others indebted less to the 
 goods of rank and wealth, than to their own personal re- 
 commendation, but all possessing a title to the respect 
 and good opinion of Lord Alberton, from their having 
 shared the toils, the perils, and the honours which had 
 ennobled his father. 
 
 Nothing, indeed, to him was so attractive, or could so 
 completely win him from the contemplation of the sorrow 
 which preyed upon his mind, as the soul-stirring and 
 captivating narratives and reminiscences which this re- 
 union between his father and his former companions in 
 arms gave occasion to ; yet there were sometimes traits 
 of indifference to the fate of their fellow-creatures — a 
 reckless hardihood, which seemed to disdain taking into 
 
THE GIPSY .AIOTHER. 
 
 T17 
 
 account the miseries they inflicted, or the blood which 
 was the price of their glory, even in the details of the 
 most amiable and liberal of these old campaigners, that 
 made him shudder, and in secret rejoice that his kind 
 and benevolent friend, who was now no more, had suc- 
 cessfully combated his inclination, when a youth, to em- 
 brace the military profession. It was true that they all 
 declared that they, at their outset in the service, felt 
 precisely as he did now; but that did not alter the mat- 
 ter; for Lord Alberton would not have exchanged his 
 feelings for their apathy, even to have attained the high- 
 est honours that could have been bestowed on him. 
 
 Most ardently, therefore, did he wish to be released 
 from society so uncongenial ; and with no small pleasure 
 he at length received from the Earl an intimation that he 
 was himself heartily tired of London, and should have 
 no objection to leave it, for whatever part of the country 
 he (Denzil) should think fit. 
 
 “ I suppose, however,” observed the Earl, smiling, 
 “ you will not take long to decide whether our course 
 shall be north or south?” 
 
 “ You have never been in Cumberland, I think, my 
 lord,” returned Alberton. 
 
 “ No, and you are desirous, I know, to introduce me 
 to the beauties of your favorite county v” replied the 
 Earl. “ Well, be it so — I shall leave you to make what 
 arrangements you think proper, and we will start as soon 
 after Monday next as you like. I cannot go before, as 
 I dine that day with General Danvers.” 
 
 Tuesday, then, perhaps will be inconvenient,” ob- 
 served Lord Alberton, “ at least, if you sit as late there 
 as you did, when the General and his nephew dined here 
 last.” 
 
748 
 
 THi: GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ And I cannot promise that I will not,” replied the 
 Earl; “for it is difficult to preserve good resolutions, in 
 such society; and, to tell you the truth, Alberton, that is 
 the principal reason why I wish to quit London — for I 
 am quite conscious that my constitution does not improve 
 by this course of living, and I shall be glad of a decent 
 excuse to break it off.” 
 
 Lord Alberton had indeed beheld, with sorrow, the 
 inroads that indulgence in the pleasures of society had 
 made in his father’s health and appearance ; and, though 
 he had not ventured to remonstrate, he now candidly 
 acknowledged his pleasure at hearing the Earl himself 
 avow his intention of putting a stop to it. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Speak no more 
 
 Thou tiirn’st mine eyes into my very soul, 
 
 And there I. see such black and grained spots, 
 As will not leave their tinct. — Shakespeare. 
 
 The last day of Lord Alberton’s residence in London 
 was, much to his satisfaction, fast approaching — yet his 
 spirits were unaccountably depressed, and Earl Raeburn 
 readily undertook to excuse his accompanying him to the 
 dinner at General Danvers’s. 
 
 The day had been wet and cheerless, and Alberton, 
 deprived of his usual exercise out of doors, felt the time 
 drag languidly on, Earl Raeburn having left home at 
 an early hour for Richmond, 'where the General resided. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 749 
 
 The solitary dinner-table did not tend either to remove 
 his listlessness and depression, and he almost wished that 
 he had accompanied the Earl, rather than pass a solitary 
 evening-. Suddenly he recollected that the play for 
 the evening at Covent Garden was “ She Stoops to Con- 
 querT It was a favorite comedy with Fanny Levison, 
 and they had once together witnessed its representation, 
 during the first week of their residence in London, be- 
 fore sorrow had laid its withering touch” on either of 
 them; and the remembrance of that happy evening now 
 rushed fresh upon his memory. 
 
 “ Does it rain, Ned?” he inquired of his servant. 
 
 Ned replied in the negative, and then, after a mo- 
 ment’s hesitation, added 
 
 I was thinking, my lord, of asking you, if you don’t 
 want me to-night, as it will be the last night as I can go, 
 an’ may be I’ll never come to Lunnun again, if you’ll 
 please to spare me to go to the play — because it’s the 
 very same play as we all went to see, when my poor old 
 master was alive. I think I see him now, sitting' behind 
 Miss Fanny and you in the box, and Mr. Charles spied 
 me out in the gallery, and pointed me out to his uncle, 
 and the good old gentleman nodded and laughed at me, 
 because you know, Mr. Denzil — that is, my lord — you 
 all used to call me Tony Lumpkin, and I never knew 
 what it meant till that night — not that I think I was ever 
 such a simpleton as that, neither, tho’ he was cunning 
 enough, too. Howsomever, I should like to see the play 
 again, for certain, though it will make me melancholy to 
 think ” 
 
 You are quite at liberty to go, Ned,” interrupted 
 Lord Alberton, who already felt but too keenly the con- 
 
THK GIl-SY .MOTIIEII. 
 
 7 :){) 
 
 trast which the honest fellow was about to draw. ‘‘ You 
 may go, as soon as you like — but take care you do not 
 get into a scrape — as, if I recollect right, you did that 
 night.” 
 
 “ Oh, no, my lord, I have learned too much of London 
 ways since that,” observed Ned, colouring to the eyes at 
 this proof of his master’s retentive memory. Lord Al- 
 berton smiled, and Ned, having pocketed the silver which 
 ’was intended to heal this trifling wound, made his part- 
 ing bow. 
 
 “I cannot go there,” thought Alberton, after his de- 
 parture. Ned’s graphic powers, humble as they were, 
 had brought too forcibly before his view the bright pic- 
 ture which was now so fatally obscured; and he felt that 
 it would now be impossible for him to listen and enjoy 
 the mirthful scene, which he had once beheld under such 
 different circumstances. Yet to pass a long, long even- 
 ing with no other companion than his own troubled 
 thoughts and melancholy retrospections, was impossible. 
 It was a tragedy at Drury Lane, and that would “ suit 
 the gloomy habit of his soul;” and so, Avithout further 
 delay, he departed, on foot, for the latter theatre. 
 
 The play was “ Othello^^ and Lord Alberton soon 
 lost, in his sympathy with the sufferings of the gallant 
 unsuspicious Moor, all consciousness of his own sorrows. 
 
 The house was very full, and it was Avith difficulty 
 that Alberton contrived to procure a seat in the second 
 circle. There were several females on the seats before 
 him; but Alberton’s attention, from his first entrance, 
 Avhich was during Othello’s address to the senate, had 
 been wholly engrossed by the stage, and at the conclu- 
 sion of the act it was claimed by a gentleman Avho had 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 75 ) 
 
 recognised him from another box, and now came round 
 to him. 
 
 “ How came it that you did not go to Richmond, to- 
 day, my lord?” demanded this young man, who was ne- 
 phew to General Danvers, and himself an officer in the 
 Guards. 
 
 ‘‘ I shall echo your question,” said Alberton, smiling 
 — ‘‘ how came it that you did not go?” 
 
 “ Oh, a previous engagement,” replied Lieutenant 
 Danvers. I had promised to stay in town, to attend 
 my mother and sisters to see Kean; and, as I do not 
 often perform such an act of filial duty, I would not, on 
 this occasion, disappoint them; but, tell me,” and he 
 lowered his voice, ‘‘who are those two pretty women on 
 the front seat? You know them, do you not? at least, 
 I read in their eyes and their whispers, when you en- 
 tered the box, that they knew you.” 
 
 Alberton was surprised; but one of the ladies turned 
 her head at that moment, and he instantly recognised 
 Mrs. Wilmington. It was the first time she had caught 
 his eyes, and he now hastily averted them, as a thousand 
 painful remembrances rushed into his mind. 
 
 The next moment he found himself almost uncon- 
 sciously making his way out of the box. 
 
 “ Where the deuce are you hurrying to, my lord ?” 
 demanded Lieutenant Danvers. “ Surely there is no dan- 
 ger in the glance of those bright eyes, that you look so 
 grave, and are so anxious to get away.” 
 
 “ To me there is none, I assure you;” replied Alber- 
 ton, trying to hide his feelings from one who he knew 
 was incapable of sympathising with them. 
 
 “Would you infer that there is to me, then?” re- 
 
752 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 turned Danvers, laughing. “ Well, I am willing to 
 abide by the consequences, if you will introduce me; 
 though it- is not the black-eyed beauty that has so power- 
 fully hit my fancy,” he continued, “ but that blue-eyed 
 blonde, with her glossy, auburn ringlets, that sits beside 
 her. Tell me, Alberton, is she, too, an acquaintance of 
 yours?” 
 
 ‘‘ The ladies are sisters,” replied Alberton, who had 
 now discovered that the other, of whom he spoke, was 
 Ellen Delaney; ‘‘but I do not wish to claim the honour 
 of their acquaintance, I assure you,” he added, in a con- 
 temptuous tone. 
 
 “ Shall I be committing a mortal offence, if I intro- 
 duce myself, then, as an acquaintance of yours?” said the 
 thoughtless Danvers. 
 
 “ They will receive you quite as kindly, if you omit 
 my name altogether,” returned Alberton. “ In short, I 
 will be plain with you, Mr. Danvers; they, or, at least, 
 one of them, for I know nothing of the youngest, whom 
 I have not seen for more than two years, but the eldest, 
 Mrs. Wilmington, is a woman whose character I so ut- 
 terly despise, that ” 
 
 Danvers was gone before he could finish the sentence, 
 and tlie next minute he saw him smilingly seated between 
 the two sisters. 
 
 Vexed and unhinged by this rencontre, and not liking 
 to resume his seat in the same box, he wandered round 
 the back of the boxes, until at length he found a vacant 
 place, at the opposite side to that which he had left, and 
 was thus enabled to observe what passed. 
 
 Danvers, he saw, was quite on easy terms with the 
 two ladies, who were very elegantly dreised, a*xu seemed 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 753 
 
 to attract very general attention and admiration; but Al- 
 berton turned from them, with unequivocal disgust. He 
 thought of the wretched father, a lost, degraded criminal, 
 writhing under the lash of justice, — of the mother, de- 
 serted and despised by the children whom she had assisted 
 to contaminate, — their dress, their beauty, their allure- 
 ments, were to him but as the gilded pomp of the sepul- 
 chre, whicii hides the loathsomeness within; and, with a 
 sigh of mingled pity and contempt, he withdrew his at- 
 tention entirely from them, to fix it upon the stage. 
 
 The play was concluded, and Lord Alberton not feel- 
 ing in the humour to relish the farce, after the sublime 
 display of scenic excellence he had just witnessed, buttoned 
 his coat closely around him, and prepared to face the 
 rain, which he had just heard was coming down in tor- 
 rents. 
 
 During the latter part of the tragedy, his attention had 
 been so totally absorbed by the scene, that he had for- 
 gotten Mrs. Wilmington, and all connected with her; 
 but at the moment he was quitting the box, he turned 
 an inquiring glance towards the spot where they had 
 been stationed. 
 
 They were gone, and their seats occupied by others — 
 and, without bestowing another thought on them, he 
 hastened through the lobby, which was now filled with 
 those who, like him, were not inclined to have the im- 
 pressions of Kean’s powerful appeals to the tender pas- 
 sions weakened by staying to witness a broad farce; but 
 whom the rain prevented from immediately leaving the 
 house. 
 
 Lord Alberton, however, pressed on, regardless of the 
 elements; and was already on the step of the door, when 
 
 5 D 
 
754 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 his attention was arrested by the well-known voice of 
 Mrs. Wilmington, who, he now saw, was endeavouring 
 to shake oflP the grasp of a miserably-clad man, who 
 prevented her following her sister and Danvers, who 
 Avere seated in a hackney coach. 
 
 ‘‘ You are my wife, Julia,” observed the wretched 
 man, ‘‘ I am starving, and you are living in luxury — but 
 you shall not quit me, now I have got you, and the laws 
 of the land will force you to share my fate — let it be 
 what it may ! So, come along, for with me you shall go, 
 1 am determined!” 
 
 ‘‘ Leave me, you horrid wretch! will nobody help me? 
 the man is mad ! I know nothing about him !” she ex- 
 claimed, struggling to free herself from his grasp. 
 
 “ No, no, 1 am not mad — you are Julia Wilmington, 
 and I am George Wilmington, your husband — and it is 
 of no use for you to try any of your fine airs now, with 
 me! You have shunned me, and refused to help me, and 
 made me desperate — and now you must take the conse- 
 quences of it!” 
 
 A few words in the mean time had passed betAveen 
 Danvers and his companion, and the coach in which they 
 Avere seated went off as fast as the horses could go. 
 
 ‘‘Ellen! Ellen!” screamed Mrs. Wilmington, “surely 
 you will not leave me to the mercy of this Avretch !”— but 
 Ellen Avas deaf to her cries. Totally heartless, and reck- 
 less of all that did not immediately affect herself, she had 
 persuaded Danvers that it Avas best to leave her sister to 
 settle the affair with her uiiAvorthy husband, Avho, she 
 observed, only Avished to take advantage of his being Avith 
 them, to extort money; and Avould, in all probability, re- 
 lease her, as soon as he found they were gone. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 755 
 
 Several persons, in spite of tlie heavy rain that was 
 still falling, had now collected round Mrs. Wilmington 
 and her husband, who still kept his firm hold of her arm 
 — but no one ventured to interfere ; for the man’s 
 decided manner of asserting his right to claim her as his 
 wife, seemed to carry conviction with it, while the strik- 
 ing contrast in their appearance confirmed his assertion 
 that she was living in luxury, while he was starving — 
 and thus prevented the slightest emotion of pity or inte- 
 rest in her favour. 
 
 Good heavens ! will no one assist a defenceless wo- 
 man?” she wildly exclaimed. ‘‘I shall be murdered, 
 
 if oh, Denzil ! — Lord Alberton !” she screamed, at 
 
 this moment discovering him, as he still stood on the 
 threshold of the door. ‘‘ Save me ! save me from this 
 wretch !” 
 
 I have no right to interfere between you and your 
 husband, Mrs. Wilmington,” returned Alberton, coolly; 
 ^‘but, as I suppose his only object in claiming you, at the 
 present moment, is to get money; and as he certainly 
 
 appears to want it, I would advise you to ” 
 
 “ What right have you to suppose, sir, that I have no 
 other object?” interrupted the man, fiercely. 
 
 “ Because I have seen you before to-day, Mr. Wil- 
 mington,” returned Lord Alberton, significantly. If 
 you will recal to your mind your conversation with jmur 
 wife, in Paris, some twelve months since, and its conse- 
 quences, you will perhaps feel that no farther exposition 
 of your character is necessary.” 
 
 Wilmington’s fierceness and effrontery seemed now 
 entirely to desert him~he looked for a moment as if un- 
 determined whether he should not at once relinquish his 
 
75G 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ca[)livo, aiul make good his retreat; but the exultation 
 which his wife’s manner displayed, at this unexpected 
 interference in her favour, had quite a contrary effect to 
 what she intended it to produce, and instead of being- 
 intimidated, he became more hardened and determined. 
 
 Well, sir,” he replied, looking steadfastly at Lord 
 Alberton, ‘‘if you are, as it appears, acquainted with 
 those circumstances, you must be quite aware that I am 
 not one who am disposed tamely to be bamboozled ; and 
 that, clever as this lady thinks herself, she will find me 
 more than a match for her.” 
 
 “ I suspect she will,” said Alberton, coolly ; “ and it is 
 for that reason I advise her to make terms with you, 
 rather than trust herself in your power.” 
 
 “ But I have no money — not a shilling !” observed 
 Mrs. Wilmington, bursting into tears, “ not a single 
 shilling' !” 
 
 “ It is bestowing it for a very unworthy purpose,” said 
 Lord Alberton, drawing his purse from his pocket; 
 “nevertheless, if two or three pounds will satisfy him, I 
 will advance it.” 
 
 “You are very generous, undoubtedly,” replied Wil- 
 mington, with a sneer, “ but I am not quite so easily put 
 off — you cannot expect that I shall part with such a valu- 
 able wife, for such a trifle.” 
 
 “You are a shameless fellow,” observed Lord Alber- 
 ton. “ Had you told me at once that that sum was in- 
 sufficient for your necessities, I would have increased it; 
 but, as it is, I will not be made a dupe, and I will have 
 nothing farther to do with you — your wife will best 
 consult her own safety, by placing herself under the pro- 
 tection of a peace-officer.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 757 
 
 He was in the act of turning away, and placing the 
 purse in his pocket, when Wilmington, suddenly quitting 
 his hold of his wretched wife, rushed ferociously upon 
 him ; and Alberton, totally unprepared for the attack, 
 staggered a few paces and fell. 
 
 The two or three persons whom curiosity had still kept 
 together, to see the conclusion of the affair, instantly ran 
 to his assistance ; but Wilmington had disappeared down 
 some of the adjoining turnings, and it was not until some 
 moments after he had regained his feet and his recollec- 
 tion, which the stunning blow he had received, had, for 
 the moment dissipated, that Alberton discovered that his 
 purse and not himself had been the object of his attack — 
 and that his money had disappeared with his assailant. 
 
 ‘‘ It’s a bad concern, altogether, I’m thinking,” ob- 
 served one of the by-standers, looking significantly at 
 Mrs. Wilmington; who, mortified, frightened, wet, and 
 shivering, had retreated under the porch of the front 
 entrance, and seemed at a loss what to do with herself. 
 “ It’s a bad look-out, altogether — and if I was you, sir, I 
 would just give the woman in charge, for it’s ten to one 
 but it’s all a mix-up between ’em.” 
 
 “ No, no ! I believe I can with conscience acquit her,” 
 observed Lord Alberton, ‘‘and she has suffered quite 
 enough, already.” 
 
 “Shall I get you a coach, sir inquired one of the 
 attendants on the theatre. Alberton replied in the affirma- 
 tive, for he felt that he was by no means in a fit condition 
 to walk to Piccadilly. 
 
 “ Good heavens ! what is to become of me, if you leave 
 me liere ?” said Mrs. Wilmington, in her most plaintive 
 tones, and stepping forward at the moment Lord Alber- 
 ton was entering the coach, 
 
758 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 I really know not how I can be of any service to 
 you,” returned Alberton, coolly, ‘‘for I have not a far- 
 thing left in my pocket — but surely, you can get a coach, 
 and pay your fare when you reach your home, wherever 
 it is.’' 
 
 “ It is easy to talk,” returned Mrs. Wilmington, in a 
 half-resentful tone; “but when I return home, there 
 will perhaps be no one up, and the coachman will not be 
 put off with promises — and to walk through the mud with 
 such shoes as these,” and she looked down at her deli- 
 cate kid slippers. 
 
 “ Will you have the goodness to tell tne how I can 
 oblige you, Mrs. Wilmington?” said Lord Alberton, 
 “ for I am really very anxious to be at home.” 
 
 You can set me down at my lodgings, my lord,” she 
 replied, evidently piqued at his extreme coolness. It 
 will be something out of your way, certainly, but I have 
 known the time, when you would have thought little of 
 any sacrifice to serve a fellow-creature in distress.” 
 
 Lord Alberton hesitated a moment, but he could devise 
 no other plan of relieving her from her present wretched 
 plight ; and drawing back from the coach door, he signed 
 to her to take her place in it. 
 
 Stung to the quick by this mortifying proof of his 
 utter coldness and indifference to her, which prevented 
 his even paying her the usual compliment of offering his 
 hand to assist her, Mrs. Wilmington jumped in, and took 
 her seat. Lord Alberton following her. 
 
 “ Will you give your directions to the coachman, ma- 
 dam?” he observed, throwing himself into the opposite 
 corner. 
 
 She gave her address to some street in the New Road, 
 and then, with a half apologizing air, turned to observe 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 T59 
 
 to Lord Albertoii that it was taking him a long round; 
 adding, that it would perhaps be more agreeable to him, 
 that she should set him down at his residence, when he 
 could pay the coachman her fare on to the New Road. 
 
 “ It will, certainly, be much more agreeable to me,’* 
 said Alberton, drily. The coach was just moving, and 
 ' putting his head out, he countermanded the orders aha 
 had given. 
 
 ‘‘ Drive to Piccadilly, coachman,” he exclaimed, and 
 at that moment his eye rested on a round, fat, good-hu- 
 moured face, which was turned up to him with a broad 
 stare. 
 
 Alberton drew in his head, without recollecting' who 
 it was that was thus attentively surveying him; but the 
 moment after he remembered that it was Mr. Levison*s 
 old friend Mr. Irwin; and, anxious to show him that he 
 did not purposely neglect a passing tribute of respect, he 
 again leaned out of the window. The rain had now 
 ceased; and, by the bright glare of the lamps, he saw 
 that Mr. Irwin was conducting down the steps of the 
 theatre his sour, stately help-mate, to the carriage which, 
 it appeared, had waited for the departure of his (Alber- 
 ton’s) hack to draw up. They were followed by two 
 other ladies, closely enveloped in their cloaks; but Al- 
 berton paid little attention to this — he only saw that Mr. 
 Irwin caught his glance, and returned it with a look of 
 reproach, and a half shake of the head. 
 
 “ He has seen my companion,” thought Alberton, as 
 he drew back again into his corner; “and, unacquainted 
 with tlie circumstances, meant to reproach my incon- 
 stancy. Am I never to be freed from vexation, on this 
 woman’s account?” 
 
760 
 
 THE GIPSY MO'IJIEK. 
 
 The thought did not increase tlie kindjiness of liis feel- 
 ings towards Mrs. Wilmington — he was retracing, in 
 his mind, all the mishaps and misadventures which had 
 arisen from his connexion with this family, and the cata- 
 logue did not improve his good humour. 
 
 Mrs. Wilmington remained for some time perfectly 
 silent, with her handkerchief applied to her face, as if to 
 conceal her tears. 
 
 It was not in Lord Alberton’s nature to be indifferent 
 and regardless of the tears of a female. He felt uncom- 
 fortable — yet he tried not to see that she was weeping, 
 and he tried, too — by recapitulating to himself the nume- 
 rous instances that had fallen under his observation, of 
 her total heartlessness, her insincerity, and deceptive arts, 
 — to steel himself against being seduced into any sym- 
 pathy with her apparent sorrow. 
 
 By degrees, Mrs. Wilmington’s grief rose to a most 
 pathetic height — deep and loud sobs succeeded to her 
 silent floods of tears; and Alberton, in spite of all his 
 predetermined hard-heartedness, could not avoid attempt- 
 ing to moderate the expression of her sorrow. 
 
 Ah, you can be no judge of the cause I have to 
 grieve,” replied the lady. “ You, who have nothing to 
 fear for the future — nothing to reproach yourself with in 
 the past, — you, who have every blessing, friends, fortune, 
 and reputation — how can you feel for one who has lost 
 all, and is now a wretched, despised, degraded being, 
 with not a creature to sympathise with or console her? 
 Even my own sister deserts me, at the moment of neces- 
 sity; and, but for you, where should I have been now? 
 And that urretch — he will not cease to persecute me, now 
 he has once discovered me! I shall be afraid, every time 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 70 J 
 
 I go out — and, good heavens, to be claimed and recog- 
 nised as the wife o^f a common pickpocket !” 
 
 She sank back again, overcome with the violent ex- 
 pressions of her grief. 
 
 ‘‘It is a pity,” thought the kind-hearted, unsophisti- 
 cated Alberton, “ that this woman should be lost, if she 
 is really sincere in her remorse for her past errors, and 
 would seriously amend them. I must see if there is no 
 way in which I can be of service, in rescuing her from 
 the abyss into which she is on the brink of falling.” 
 
 “ I am fearful, Mrs. Wilmington,” he observed, in a 
 kinder tone than he had yet spoken to her — “ that, al- 
 though your appearance would contradict the belief — I 
 say I am fearful that your present situation and pros- 
 pects are ” 
 
 “ As bad, as wretched, as can fall to the lot of a friend- 
 less, helpless woman !” she hastily interrupted. “ I will 
 not deceive you, Lord Alberton — I have been for many 
 months leading a life of want and wretchedness, owing 
 a shelter only to the charity of Katherine, whom you 
 must recollect as the servant who attended us when we 
 Avent to France. — Ah, those happy days — days of peac6 
 
 and innocence!”- Alberton displayed a movement of 
 
 impatience at this apostrophe, the force and truth of 
 which he was by no means prepared to admit, and Mrs. 
 Wilmington proceeded 
 
 “ My mother, too, poor unhappy woman, shared that 
 shelter; and I endeavoured to get employment for her 
 and myself, as needlewomen. Sometimes I was suc- 
 cessful, and sometimes not — and I quite lost heart Avhen 
 my mother suddenly deserted me, and I soon after re- 
 ceived a letter to say that she had been enabled, by the 
 
762 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 assistance of a friend, to go to Ireland — and hoped I 
 should do better without her. 
 
 “ Katherine’s husband, who was gone to sea, was now 
 expected home ; and she gave me to understand that it 
 would not be convenient for me to be there. How, in- 
 deed, could I expect it — for she had but one room. 
 
 I was now quite in despair — for I knew it would be 
 quite impossible for me to pay rent — and keep from star- 
 ving on the gains of needlework, when I accidentally 
 met my sister Ellen, whom I had never seen since my 
 unhappy marriage. She was beautifully dressed, and 
 looked all gaiety and spirits — while I, with my shabby 
 black silk, torn and darned in fifty places — my rusty vel- 
 vet bonnet, and still more rusty crape veil, drawn over 
 my pale face, looked, as she said, the very picture of 
 misery and mortification. 
 
 She had been, she told me, for more than a year, the 
 companion of a gay old Irish nobleman, who had brought 
 her to London; but had left her within a few weeks, be- 
 cause he was about to marry a lady, whose friends had 
 insisted on his breaking off all his former connexions. 
 
 “ He had not left her totally destitute, however, she 
 said, and she had plenty of clothes. If I would come 
 home with her, she would see if she could not find some 
 in her wardrobe which would make me a little more 
 like a human being. 
 
 “ Ellen has no heart, Lord Alberton, though she is 
 my sister !” 
 
 Lord Alberton thought that was by no means impos- 
 sible — ^but he did not interrupt her narrative. 
 
 “ I went with her — was equipped in some of her finery 
 * — and, in short, she laughed me out of all my plans of 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 763 
 
 reformation, and I consented to remain with her. 1 need 
 not pursue the tale of misery and degradation any farther, 
 Alberton — but if you knew how I hate myself and my 
 companions — even my sister is hateful to me ! She has, as 
 yet, known no reverse — she has not experienced, as I 
 have, the miseries ” 
 
 Lord Alberton suddenly interrupted the condemnation 
 of her sister, which he thought was by no means neces- 
 sary to enhance the merit of her own remorse and peni- 
 tence — 
 
 I leave town to-morrow, Mrs. Wilmington,” he ob- 
 served, “ and shall therefore have no opportunity of per- 
 sonally assisting you ; and, indeed, with my trifling 
 knowledge of the Avorld, or of business, it is not likely I 
 could be of much service ; but it appears to me that if, 
 which I will not doubt, you are really anxious to main- 
 tain yourself respectably, there are many trades which a 
 female can manage, and for which your manners and ad- 
 dress would fit you. Now, I will be very plain with 
 you — I can and would afford from one to two hundred 
 pounds, for the purpose of enabling you to settle your- 
 self in any manner you may think fit. I will, when I 
 reach home, give you a supply, to enable you at once 
 to leave your present disreputable home; and, as soon 
 as you can meet with an opportunity of procuring a situa- 
 tion likely to answer your purpose, I will remit you the 
 necessary sum.” 
 
 For probably the first time in her life, Mrs. Wilming- 
 ton was unable to express her feeling's. She had calcu- 
 lated only on being able, by a sincere avowal of her 
 situation, to extract from her companion some present 
 aid ; but she was now completely overpowered by the 
 
764 
 
 THE (WrSY MOTHER. 
 
 extent of his undeserved generosity, and she could only 
 inarticulately murmur tlie gratitude which her tears for 
 once evinced was sincere. 
 
 The coach stopped at the door of his residence; and 
 Alberton hurried to his desk, from which he took ten 
 guineas; and having sealed it in an envelope, enclosing 
 also the address to which she was to write, so soon as 
 she found it necessar)' — he gave it to Ned (who had 
 returned before him, and was awaiting his arrival), de- 
 siring him to convey it to the lady who Avas Avaiting in 
 the coach, and at the same time pay the coachman his 
 demand for conveying her to her residence. 
 
 Ned’s looks expressed a Avorld of Avonder and curio- 
 sity, when he returned after performing his commission ; 
 but he soon forgot Mrs. Wilmington, and all connected 
 Avith her, when he discovered, from the appearance of his 
 master’s clothes, that the latter had met Avith some 
 disaster. 
 
 Lord Alberton smiled good-humouredly at his excla- 
 mations- — 
 
 Yes, Ned,” he replied, have indeed been doAvn 
 in the dirt, as you say — and, what is Avorse, it cost me 
 three or four pounds before I got up again.” 
 
 “The Lord preserve us!” exclaimed Ned; “but this 
 Lunnun, as my poor old master used to say, is the very 
 devil ! And so as you Avarned me, too, my lord, about 
 getting into scrapes, and being imposed upon.” 
 
 “ It is easier to give advice, than folloAv our OAvn pre- 
 cepts, Ned, you see,” returned his master. 
 
 “ There’s never no good comes of nothing when that 
 Miss Delaney has any hand in it,” said Ned, shaking .bis 
 head very solemnly; “for my part, I Avould as soon see 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEIG 
 
 7C5 
 
 Old Nick himself, as her face — though it’s not an ugly one, 
 either. But, so sure as she shows herself, so sure there’s 
 some mischief a brewing ! I declare I quite started, 
 when' I found it was her, in the coach at the door — for, 
 thinks I, what a deal ray master has suiFered a’ready, all 
 along of these Delaneys — and yet they stick to him like 
 pitch, that one can never get rid of, if it once gets upon 
 one’s fingers, till it be clean worn away.” 
 
 Alberton smiled at this coarse illustration — yet he 
 could not but allow it was somewhat applicable. 
 
 “ Well, I do hope, we shall have done with all the 
 family, now,” resumed Ned, who was encouraged by his 
 master’s smile to proceed, “ for, the deuce is in it, if they 
 can follow us down to Cumberland ; but, I suppose, it 
 was taking' this Mrs. What’s-her-name’s part against 
 somebody, that got you into this pickle, my lord?” 
 
 “You have very nearly hit it, Ned,” replied his mas- 
 ter ; “ it was in attempting to rescue her from the hands 
 of a villain, that I was knocked down, and lost my purse 
 and its contents.” 
 
 “ The Lord preserve us ! Then, it was about you, 
 the people was talking, when I corn’d out of the play- 
 house!” said Ned, lifting up his hands and eyes. “ I made 
 a mistake, you see, and got into the wrong playhouse — 
 and didn’t see Tony Lumpkin at all, but a play all about 
 
 black fellow ” 
 
 “ Never mind the play, Ned — for you know I saw it,” 
 interrupted Lord Alberton, “ tell me what it was you 
 heard, that related to me.” 
 
 “ Why, I didn’t know, then, it was about you ; but 
 Avhen 1 came out, there was five or six people talking to- 
 gether, and I heard one of ’em say that there was five or 
 
 
766 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 six sovereigns in the purse, he was sure, besides silver — 
 for it looked quite heavy at both ends ; and then the one 
 he was telling, who, I believe, was v/hat they call an 
 officer — though I never saw or heard of any officers be- 
 side soldier-officers before I corn’d to London — he says, 
 ‘ well, but why didn’t the gentleman give an alarm ? 
 The fellow might have been stopped !’ and so then 
 another says, ‘ oh, it was very plain the gentleman didn’t 
 care much about the money — he wouldn’t have minded 
 twice as much, to get rid of the fellow. It was the lady 
 he wanted, or else he’d never have took her off, arter all, 
 in a coach!’ And they said something about her being 
 the man’s wife; and, what I’m sure was false — and I’d 
 have told ’em so, too, if I’d known it had been you — 
 the said, they dare say you know’d very well you deserved 
 all you’d got, and had been the means of ^veigling away 
 the woman from her husband. 
 
 ‘‘ I shouldn’t have stopped to have heard all this,” con- 
 tinued Ned, only that among them there was a lad that 
 I know’d very well — and you know him, too, my lord — 
 Richard, that was groom to master’s friend, Mr. Irwin — 
 he’s the footman now, and I wanted to have a bit of talk 
 with him, and a glass of beer, for old acquaintance sake — 
 but he told me he couldn’t stop, for he must follow the 
 carriage, as his master had only left him to learn the 
 rights of the business ; and besides, Ned, says he, you’d 
 better make haste home — for I heard your master order 
 the coach to Piccadilly, and you’ll be wanted, may be, 
 to wait at supper.’ I couldn’t think, for the life of me, 
 what he meant, or where he had seen you — but now it’s 
 all out.” 
 
 Alberton heard with extreme vexation this detail from 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 767 
 
 his servant. It seemed as if there was, indeed, a fatality 
 attending his connexion with the Delaneys; and that 
 his most praiseworthy actions were doomed to be misre- 
 presented, and become the source of false accusations, 
 when connected with that family. 
 
 He knew, too well, Mrs. Irwin’s inquisitive and censo- 
 rious disposition, not to feel convinced that it was to gratify 
 those propensities that the servant had been commissioned 
 to inquire into the particulars of the affair, of which Mr. 
 Irwin himself had probably been in part a witness ; and 
 though he could not, at that moment, foresee that it could 
 be of any material injury to him, he was by no means 
 contented to rest quietly under the imputations which he 
 was convinced would be cast upon him. 
 
 The more he considered it, the more vexed he was 
 that he had not profited by the opportunity of addressing 
 Mr. Irwin, and at once candidly stating all that had 
 occurred. But it was now too late to regret what 
 could not be recalled, and he was obliged to submit with 
 patience till an opportunity should offer of clearing the 
 affair. 
 
768 
 
 THE GIP8Y MOTHER, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Slander lives upon succession, 
 
 For ever housed where once it gets possession. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 At the appointed time, the Earl of Raeburn and his 
 son departed for Cumberland ; and the latter rejoiced in the 
 anticipation of again beholding the scenes of his happy 
 childhood, and still more in the hope of again beholding 
 her who had been the companion of those happy years. 
 
 Their road lay immediately past the gates of Levison 
 Hall, and Earl Raeburn entered with the deepest interest 
 into Albertoif s feelings, as he gazed on the entrance which 
 he had last passed through under such different feelings 
 and circumstances. 
 
 Earl Raeburn thought of her who had once been 
 acknowledged the mistress of the delightful domain, over 
 which his eyes now wandered, and sighed to think how 
 dearly she had purchased the temporary dignity; and that 
 melancholy sigh, that fhoughtful look, soon recalled Lord 
 Alberton from dreams of the happy future, to the recol- 
 lection of the melancholy past. 
 
 The estate which Earl Raeburn had purchased, was 
 delightfully situated, but its greatest charm, in Albertan’s 
 eyes, was, that from some of the windows of the house 
 were distinctly seen the heavy turreted chimneys of 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEii. 
 
 7()9 
 
 Levison Hall, and the group of dark oaks iii which that 
 mansion was embosomed. 
 
 The anxiety which he felt to hear some particulars of 
 the family who were now residing there, was soon re- 
 lieved ; for, on the very morning after his arrival, the late 
 Mr. Levison’s old coachman, who had been in the family 
 for nearly forty years, sent up a request to be admitted to 
 speak with Lord Alberton, which was instantly granted 
 him. 
 
 Alberton was struck with the alteration so visible in 
 the old man — his fat and rosy cheeks were now faded 
 and fallen in, and the look of jocund hilarity, which his 
 countenance had worn, was changed for the solicitude of 
 care and anxiety. 
 
 “My old friend,” exclaimed Alberton, viewing him 
 with surprise, “ what can have been the matter with 
 you ? have you. been ill ?” 
 
 “ No, sir — my lord, I mean — I beg your pardon — I 
 havn’t been ill ; that is to say, bodily ill — because 1 never 
 in my life knew what illness nor care for myself was, 
 thank God, till now — and that it is that makes it harder 
 to hear, I suppose — for it’s so unexpected, at my time of 
 life, to be forced to look out for a fresh sarvice; and this 
 it is, my lord, that’s brought me here. I don’t want to 
 rise upon the fall of nobody, nor to put nobody out of 
 their places, but I heard last night that your coachman 
 was only hired as town coachman, and didn’t intend stop- 
 ping here more than two or three weeks, and so I 
 thought I’d make bold, sir, to speak in time, because I 
 should rather serve you than anybody else, my lord, see- 
 ing it would be still keeping in the family; and, besides, 
 then,” (and the old man’s voice seemed to swell with 
 
770 
 
 ^’HE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 bitterness,) ‘‘then 1 needn’t send to Mrs. Charles Levi- 
 son, or her mother either, for a character.” 
 
 “ What can be the meaning* of all this, my good 
 friend?” exclaimed Alberton, with unfeigned surprise. 
 “ Surely, you cannot mean to say that you have been 
 discharged, without a proper provision, after so many 
 years’ service?” 
 
 “ Discharged !” repeated the old man, somewhat 
 hastily. “ Oh, no, they would hardly do that, for their 
 own sakes ! They would be worse hated in the country 
 tliaii they are now, and that’s bad enough — but I dis- 
 charged myself, my lord — for it was quite unpossihle that 
 I could bear to stop and see the goings on, and strangers, 
 as I n>ay call them, turning poor Miss Fanny and the 
 old lady out of doors — for it was no better, and then 
 filling the house with their racketty companions, and 
 driving the poor old servants like slaves ; and that 
 proud, upstart Mrs. Lazenby, taking upon herself to find 
 fault with my poor dear master that’s dead and gone, for 
 having spoiled his servants, as she says — though I’ll only 
 ask you, sir, if there ever could be a family where ser- 
 vants knew their places and their duty, or did it more 
 readier, or better ?’ 
 
 Lord Alberton warmly assented to this, which was, in 
 fact, no more than the strict truth. 
 
 “ W'^ell, my lord,” continued the old man, “it was, as 
 1 say, quite unpossible for us old sarvants to stay and see 
 a parcel of saucy, lazy Lunnoners put over our heads ; 
 for Mrs. Charles has got four new ones — a head butler, 
 and a head coachman — head I indeed, she had better 
 have called him throat — for I am sure he will swallow as 
 much ale in a day as I would drink in a month, though 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 771 
 
 Mrs. Lazenby did say I was fit for notliing except to eat 
 and drink, and sleep away my time.” 
 
 Well, well, my good Hampton,” interrupted Lord 
 Alberton, who saw that the old man, if he were allowed 
 to go on with his recapitulation of grievances, would 
 never arrive apt the end of them. “ Dismiss altogether 
 from your mind the undeserved censures which have 
 arisen from ignorance of your real worth, and tell me 
 what has become of the other old servants — have they, 
 
 too, left the Hall? And where is Miss Rachel and 
 
 her niece ?” he added, after a moment’s pause. 
 
 ‘‘ Lord bless me, sir — my lord — don’t you know that 
 Missus and Miss Fanny are both in London ? I thought, 
 to be sure, that they would let you know the first. As 
 to the other old servants, most of ’em have left, but 
 they’ve saved money enough to get into some Avay of 
 business — all but me; and I have had my poor son’s 
 Avidow and seven children to keep and give education to, 
 and it can’t be expected I could save much. God help 
 them, I don’t know what they would have, done, if the 
 Hall for the last ten years had not been in better hands 
 than it is now — for, though there’s three times the quan- 
 tity consumed, there isn’t a bit given aAvay, except by 
 stealth ; for Mrs. Lazenby’s got no notion of pampering 
 the poor with broken victuals. She thinks it better to 
 pamper her nasty brutes of lap-dogs, than Christians.” 
 
 The old man talked on unheeded — Lord Alberton had 
 heard only the astounding intelligence that Fanny Levi- 
 son was in London. In London, unknown to him, and 
 at the very time, too, Avhen he was rejoicing to leave it. 
 Where could she be in London? and what could induce 
 Miss Rachel to reside there, Avith her now very limited 
 
779 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 income ?” were questions which he in vain tried to 
 solve. 
 
 Old Hampton suddenly paused in the midst of a long J 
 string of additional grievances, of which he was relieving 
 his burthened mind, for he discovered, by Lord Alber- 
 ton’s abstracted look and manner, that he was paying no 
 attention to him. 
 
 “ I hope it’s no offence, my lord, what I’ve been say- 
 ing,” he observed, hut it seems so natural to tell you 
 my troubles — for many a time before now you’ve not 
 only listened to me, but helped me out of them — though, 
 for my own part, I never had no troubles, that I could 
 call downright my own, till now — and that makes it, as 
 I said before, harder to bear ; and, if I’d been fond of 
 changing, or had done anything to lose my character, 
 or-"^ ” 
 
 ‘‘ And where are you living now, Hampton ?” sud- 
 denly demanded Lord Alberton, recollecting what had 
 been the purport of the old man’s application. 
 
 ‘‘ I am with my daughter-in-la^v, my lord ; she has 
 got a little shop in the village, and is doing pretty well — 
 l)ut. Lord bless me, I little thought I should ever be a 
 burthen to her — net that I have been, yet — but, if I 
 should not get a place soon — and at my time of life ” 
 
 ‘‘ It is quite time that you should be relieved of all 
 care, my good friend,” said Alberton; “and such, I am 
 sure, would have been Mr. Levison’s feelings, and such 
 his act, had he not been so unfortunately cut off, with- 
 out ” 
 
 “ Ah, that is what I have said a hundred times, my 
 lord — not about myself only— but poor Miss Fanny ! 
 How different it would all have been, if my poor master 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 773 
 
 had but lived a few hours longer — and what bad hearts 
 they must have, that could take such a base advantage, 
 to rob the orphan. Ihn told that poor Miss Fanny 
 did’nt have a single thing to take away with her, except 
 her mother’s picture — but, I beg your pardon, my lord, 
 for interrupting you — only, when I think of her, and 
 how she has been treated, my troubles seem as nothing !” 
 
 This last observation did not tend to decrease Lord 
 Alberton’s good opinion and favourable intention towards 
 the honest old servant ; and Hampton, before he quitted 
 him, received a substantial proof that his lordship would, 
 as he promised, make arrangements to provide for all the 
 servants of the late Mr. Levison, exactly as he believed 
 it to have been the intention of his lamented friend to 
 do. 
 
 “ Heaven bless you, my lord !” said the old man. 
 ‘‘We have all been looking for your coming down, with 
 great anxiety — but not so much on our own accounts, as 
 Miss Fanny’s — for we did hope- ” 
 
 The old man paused, as if conscious he was expressing, 
 rather too freely, the hopes which had daily and hourly 
 been the subject of discussion between himself and those 
 who regarded, like him, the daughter of their old master 
 with the most fervent affection. 
 
 Lord Alberton turned away his glowing face, at this 
 allusion. 
 
 “It has not been my fault, my good old friend, that 
 your hopes have not been realised,” he observed. 
 
 “ Ah, I knew it,” said the old man, in a tone of exulta- 
 tion, “ I was sure that you would never alter, though 
 she hasn’t got a fortune now, and you have. Ah, I shall 
 live to see her yet hold up her head above all of them ! I 
 
774 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 know I shall ! and it was because I used to say so, in the 
 servants’ hall, and it came to Mrs. Charles Levison’s 
 ears, through her fine new lady’s-maid, that they hated 
 me so, and made my life so miserable, that I’ve wished 
 myself in the grave with my poor master, twenty times a 
 day, before I could get courage to leave the old Hall, 
 that’s been my home for forty years — for I’ve been there 
 ever since I was seventeen, my lord ; and you may think 
 it was a trial to leave it — but I didn’t leave the horses 
 behind, that was one good thing — for if they’d been there, 
 I don’t think I could have had the heart to leave ; but, 
 poor things, they were not good enough for Mrs. 
 Charles, and so the new coachman, the head coachman, 
 was ordered to sell them, and new ones were bought. 
 I could have cried only for shame, when I saw them led 
 out of the stables — but they’ve got into good hands ; for 
 the Rector, hearing they were to be sold, sent and 
 bought them, out of respect, as he said, to his departed 
 friend. It would have been only respectful, I think, if 
 Mrs. Charles had kept them — but they were too old — 
 she hates every thing that’s old, as if she wasn’t growing 
 older and older herself, every day of her life !” 
 
 Lord Alberton could not but smile at the old man’s 
 bitterness, even while he sincerely sympathised with him 
 in his regret, at the total subversion of the old establish- 
 ment at the Hall, and the coachman departed quite satis- 
 fied that, though it might not be in the young lord’s 
 power to restore all that he lamented the loss of, the 
 time was not far distant which would restore the daugh- 
 ter of his respected master, with increased splendour, 
 to those who so bitterly lamented the eclipse of her 
 fortunes. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 775 
 
 The surprise and disappointment which Alberton had 
 felt, at ascertaining that Fanny had, indeed, totally 
 quitted Cumberland, was succeeded by still more dis- 
 quieting sensations — for in the course of his conjectures 
 as to what could have induced aunt Rachel to return to 
 London, which he knew she disliked as a residence, the 
 recollection of her intimacy with Mrs. Irwin, and that 
 Mr. Irwin had been, by the will which had been so 
 fatally destroyed, appointed one of Mr. Levison’s execu- 
 tors, suddenly darted across his mind, and with it came 
 the vision of the two ladies, so closely muffled up in cloaks, 
 whom he had beheld with the former and his austere 
 spouse, on the steps, of Drury Lane Theatre. 
 
 It was Fanny and her aunt ! Oh, he could not for 
 a moment doubt it — and he had beeii so blind, so stupid, 
 so thoughtless, as not to bestow a second glance on them 
 — and they had seen him, too, entering the hackney 
 coach with that unhappy woman ! They had heard, 
 perhaps, a tale highly exaggerated and tortured, to suit 
 that love of scandal, which was so prominent a characte- 
 ristic of Mrs. Irwin. He had never been a favourite of 
 hers, — and Fanny would listen and perhaps believe im- 
 plicitly that which appearances certainly corroborated ! — 
 What must she think of him, if she recognised his com- 
 panion ; and, even if she did not, she would perhaps be- 
 lieve that he had forgotten her, or that he was unworthy 
 of her remembrance ?” 
 
 Such were a few of the rapid exclamations which 
 escaped him, Avhen the discovery suddenly broke upon 
 him. He was, however, soon recalled to something like 
 calmness, by the entrance of his father, to whom he 
 immediately related the surprise he had felt at discovering 
 
TIG 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 that Fanny was in London, and his conjecture as to her 
 being with Mr. Irwin, and expressed, in very strong 
 terms, his regret at having so inopportunely quitted the 
 metropolis. 
 
 “ It is, indeed, unfortunate,” said the Earl ; but we 
 shall learn more, no doubt, when you have paid your 
 intended visit to Mrs. Charles Levison.” 
 
 Alberton had almost forgotten his projected excursion 
 to the Hall, which he had, on the preceding evening, 
 mentioned to his father, to whom he now expressed his 
 fears that it would afford him little pleasure, from the 
 account he had received from old Hampton. 
 
 ‘‘ I shall go, nevertheless,” he observed, “ if it is only 
 that I may have an opportunity of rebuking Emma, for 
 her ingratitude ; and, she may depend upon it, I shall not 
 spare her.” 
 
 The alteration which the old coachman had predicted 
 Lord Alberton would discover, before he had been five 
 minutes a visitor at the Hall, began to display itself to 
 the eyes of the former, before he had even crossed the 
 threshold — for the gate of the grounds was opened by a 
 stranger, instead of the grey-headed domestic who had 
 been the inhabitant of the Gothic lodge. 
 
 “ What has become of Adam Gray?” demanded Lord 
 Alberton, of the man, whose spruce appearance and 
 easy assurance formed a striking contrast, in the eye of 
 his lordship, to that of the person for whom he inquired. 
 
 ‘‘ Adam Gray, sir ? Oh, you mean the old man that 
 used to be here ? I really can’t tell you, sir — that is, not 
 exactly — but he’s somewhere hereabouts ; but they can 
 tell you at the house, I dare say, if you are going 
 there.” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 777 
 
 Alb er ton rode slowly onwards, but his eye involun- 
 tarily glanced into the porch of the lodge, where he had 
 always been used to meet the smiling curtsey of the old 
 porter’s wife, and which he had so often rewarded by 
 going into her clean little miniature of a room, praising 
 her flowers, or tasting her gooseberry wine, and leaving a 
 tribute to its goodness in the shape of a bright half-crown 
 at the bottom of the glass, or among the leaves of her 
 beautiful noseg'ays. In her place now stood a smart, 
 bold, good-looking young woman, who returned his 
 inquiring glance with one equally scrutinising, and then 
 hastily coming forward, with a half-bow, half-curtsey, 
 exclaimed 
 
 “Lord bless me, sir, I beg your pardon — I really 
 didn’t know you — but I hope you’ll excuse me and my 
 husband — he’s quite a stranger in these parts.” 
 
 “ And who are you, my good woman?” said Lord 
 Alberton. “ I do not recollect having ever ” 
 
 “Laws, sir, don’t you recollect me, when you and 
 Mr. Charles and Miss Fanny used to come over to 
 Missusses, to see Miss Emma, before she was married ?” 
 
 “ Oh, you were one of Mrs. Lazenby’s servants !” re- 
 joined Alberton, and rode on with a feeling of vexation 
 which he could not conquer at this first specimen. 
 
 “ He didn’t use to be so short and snappish, nor so 
 stingy, either ! — Many’s the shilling I’ve had of his 
 money,” said the woman, looking after him, “ but he’s a 
 lord, they say, now — and I suppose he thinks it’s beneath 
 him to take notice of them that’s known him when he 
 didn’t know who he was himself.” 
 
 Could Alberton have heard these remarks, It would, 
 perhaps, have reconciled him to his conscience, which 
 
 5 G 
 
778 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 now somewhat reproached him for the ungracious man- 
 ner in which he had treated the woman, who certainly, 
 as he now reflected, was not to blame. 
 
 Mrs. Charles Levison was not visible — but, having 
 heard that Lord Alberton had arrived at his residence, 
 she had anticipated his visit, and given orders for his 
 admission. 
 
 He was therefore ushered into the drawing-room, 
 with an assurance from the servant that his lady would 
 be down in a few minutes ; and not at all sorry did he 
 feel, that he was allowed a short time to recover himself 
 from the agitating remembrances which were connected 
 with this spot. 
 
 It was not the room which, in Mr. Levison’s time, 
 had been usually appointed to the purpose of receiving 
 company, but the identical room which had been so 
 mysteriously neglected and disused, and the history of 
 which had so thrilled Lord Alberton’s heart with hor- 
 ror, when at length it had been revealed to him. 
 
 It was, in fact, the very room in which his unfortunate 
 mother had witnessed the murder, or at least had beheld 
 the dying pangs of the murdered Alfred Levison. 
 
 It had been recently fitted up with the most profuse 
 elegance and splendour — but it was all lost upon Lord 
 Alberton — he thought only of the dying agonies which 
 it had beheld — the fierce demoniac passions of the mur- 
 derer — the contending horror and affright of her who had 
 been in part the cause of the crime — or, at least, had been 
 made the instrument. The windows opening to the 
 terrace were unclosed, and a profusion of the choicest 
 flowers breathed their fragrance there — but Alberton saw 
 only the pale horror-struck image of his mother, as she 
 
THE GIPSY BIOTKER. 
 
 779 
 
 had described herself, entering by one of these windows, 
 determined to avow her guilty concealment of her former 
 marriage, and finding that it was too late. 
 
 From the appalling recollections which forced them- 
 selves upon his mind, he was roused by the entrance of 
 Mrs. Charles Levison, clothed in all the studied para- 
 phernalia of woe — but bearing in her face, her voice, and 
 her step, the strongest proofs that, beyond her outward 
 appearance, there was no trace of sorrow for the events 
 which had placed her in the situation she now held. 
 
 I have won my wager of mamma !’’ she exclaimed, 
 after the first salutation. “ I knew you would be here 
 this morning — but she insisted upon it that you would 
 wait till Rosa came down, and — ^but now, do tell me, 
 Alberton, is it true that, after all, you are to marry Rosa 
 Somerville ?” 
 
 ‘‘ Can you ask me such a question, Emma?” said Lord 
 Alberton, in a tone of reproach. “ Do you, then, think 
 so meanly of me, as to suppose my feelings have wavered 
 with circumstances? Do you not rather suppose tliat 
 the unjust reverse of fortune which has befallen Fanny 
 Levison, has rendered her, if possible ” 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, I am sure I never said or thought anything of 
 the kind,” interrupted Emma ; “ but, for goodness’ sake, 
 don’t look so very enthusiastic about it. As to Rosa, 
 
 I only asked you, because I saw a paragraph in one of 
 the London papers that I thought related to you and her 
 — but I suppose I was mistaken, though it certainly cor- 
 responded, in all respects.” 
 
 Lord Alberton made no reply — for he was so fully 
 aware of the disposition of his companion, tliat he had 
 very little doubt this was solely an invention of the 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 7B0 
 
 moment, to account to him for hav mal a ques- 
 
 tion. 
 
 “ Well, how do you like my taste ?” she exclaimed, 
 observing that his eyes wandered over the room. ‘‘ Is 
 it not prettily fitted up, considering? People are all 
 wondering how I could have the courage to have this 
 room opened once more,” she continued, looking 
 round her with evident self-approbation, “ but I saw no 
 use of losing the handsomest room in the house, be- 
 cause 
 
 “ Pray let us speak of something else,” interrupted 
 Lord Alberton, gravely. 
 
 “ Oh, dear, I beg your pardon— what a thoughtless 
 creature I am,” she replied ; “ and, by the by, that re- 
 minds me of another thing — have you seen or heard any- 
 thing of Fanny ?” 
 
 “ I have heard quite sufficient to grieve and surprise 
 me — for I have just learned that she is in London; and I 
 am exceedingly sorry that I was not made acquainted with 
 it, until I had left the metropolis,” returned Alberton. 
 
 Oh, she is really grown so strange and unaccount- 
 able, that I am not surprised at anything !” returned 
 Mrs. Levison. 
 
 ‘^What could have been aunt Rachel’s reason for 
 going thither, now, when every body is quitting it?” 
 inquired Alberton, without noticing her last remark. 
 
 ‘‘Oh, I don’t know, lam sure,” replied his companion; 
 “ but I believe it was to have the advice of Mr. Irwin, 
 who, in her opinion, is a miracle of wisdom and know- 
 ledge.” 
 
 “ Then I was right,” said Alberton, hastily. “ I did 
 see her ! Good heavens, how unfortunate !” 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 781 
 
 Mrs. Levison looked at him for an explanation — and, 
 without entering into any particulars, he explained that 
 he had had a glimpse only of Fanny, with her aunt and 
 Mr. and Mrs. Irwin ; but, unaware of her being in Lon- 
 don, he had not at the moment recognised her. 
 
 The confirmation he had now received, had the effect 
 of completely detaching his thoughts from every other 
 subject, and Mrs. Levison uttered a long string of in- 
 quiries and observations, to which he replied sometimes 
 correctly, and at other times so completely at random, 
 that she burst into a loud fit of laughter. 
 
 The sound seemed at once to startle him from his 
 reverie — but even her raillery could not bring a smile to 
 his lips, and she at length remarked, with considerable 
 pique in her manner 
 
 “ Wei], really, it is very flattering to find that the plea- 
 sure of this meeting is all on my side — for it is very evi- 
 dent that you feel none ! I have been counting every 
 day till you came, and teasing every body that had any- 
 thing to do at your house, to know when you actually 
 would make your appearance, and all the gratitude you 
 feel ’’ 
 
 I am very grateful for your good opinion of me,” 
 interrupted Lord Alberton, ‘‘ but I have much to render 
 me serious, Emma, in this my first visit to the house in 
 which I passed so many happy years.” 
 
 “ Well, I know all that, — but what is the use of dwell- 
 ing upon what is all past and gone ? I am sure I have 
 enough to make me melancholy,” (and she forced a sigh) 
 
 “ if I was to sit down and grieve for the past — but, as 
 mamma says, what would be the use of weeping away 
 my youth, it could not recal ” 
 
782 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 Lord Alberton interrupted her exposition of her mam- 
 ma’s philosophy and her own, by asking after her infant 
 — the future representative of the house of Levison,” as 
 poor Mr. Levison had so pompously styled it. 
 
 Oh, dear, that reminds me that I haven’t seen the 
 poor little fellow to-day,” she replied. “ Do touch the 
 bell, Alberton, and I will send for him.” 
 
 Lord Alberton complied with her direction, and an 
 order was given to bring Master Charles directly. 
 
 Nearly a quarter of an hour elapsed, and more than once 
 the impatient summons had been repeated — and then a 
 poor little sickly infant made its appearance in the arms 
 of its nurse, who began a confused apology for being so 
 long — Master Charles having been asleep. 
 
 “ He is asleep now, I think,” observed the thoughtless 
 mother, taking the child in her arms, and looking atten- 
 tively at it for a moment or two, seemingly aroused to a 
 suspicion that something was amiss. 
 
 Lord Alberton looked at the cliild with interest and 
 pity — for, though he could see nothing of the resem- 
 blance which the mother suggested between it and its 
 unhappy father, he could not but recal, even on hearing 
 its name repeated, a thousand circumstances connected 
 with the friend and companion of his own childhood. 
 
 “Take him to the nursery, Watson,” said Mrs. 
 Levison, in a few minutes, “ and let him have his sleep 
 out.” 
 
 The child was taken away, and without seeming to 
 bestow another thought upon its very evident indispo- 
 sition, the gay mother began questioning Lord Alberton 
 as to his intended style of living. 
 
 “ Do you mean,” she exclaimed, “ indeed, 1 hope you 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 783 
 
 do mean to be very gay, and give parties, balls, &c. If 
 you do not, I shall not like you at all for a neighbour, 
 for I am half dead with ennui^ and long for the summer 
 to be over, or at least for the London season to com- 
 mence. Oh, but I must tell you that I have got charm- 
 ing neighbours,” she continued, ‘‘at Stanmore House. 
 You will see them, of course — for they visit and are 
 visited by every body. Madame St. George, indeed, is 
 not altogether to my taste — she is too grave and too 
 penseroso; but her husband is a most delightful com- 
 panion — plays, sings, draws, dances, improvisatoresj 
 every thing, d merveille. He is always in spirits, too — 
 never any of your grand, sentimental — in short, he is 
 just the man to my taste, and all the ladies, for twenty 
 miles round, think the same of him.” 
 
 “ Indeed ! and what do their husbands and his wife 
 think of that?” demanded Alberton, half seriously. 
 
 “ Oh, you scandalous creature, how can you ask such 
 a shocking question,” she replied ; “ but, indeed, I don’t 
 think St. George troubles himself much about that. 
 Vive la bagatelle is his motto, and he never gives him- 
 self any concern about what people think of him — by the 
 by, though, I believe he is rather ungrateful towards his 
 lady: — for it is whispered that he had not a fortune, and 
 she had.” 
 
 “ St. George !” repeated Lord Alberton, “ St. George ! 
 describe him, Emma — what sort of a person is he ?” 
 
 “ Dear me, how could I have been so thoughtless — 
 
 I forgot that he knows you, has seen you in France — and 
 poor Charles, too, he knew him.” 
 
 “ Then it is the same,” said Lord Alberton, in surprise, 
 
 “ and he is married, you say ?” 
 
784 
 
 THE GIPSVf MOTHER. 
 
 ‘‘Yes, maiTiecl a widow of fortune; and now I’ll tell 
 you the truth — I belie re he almost wishes he had hung 
 himself first — but this is between ourselves. Oh, she is 
 such a disagreeable, satirical, ill-tempered — but then she 
 gives such gay parties, and manages every thing in such 
 style, every body doats upon her ” 
 
 “ But you and her husband,” said Lord Albertoii, 
 drily. 
 
 “ Well, I declare, Lord Alberton, you seem to have 
 been taking a leaf out of her book, for that was said just 
 in her style; but, however, I don’t mind you a bit; you 
 know, I always used to call you Mentor, though Fanny 
 would insist you were more like her favorite hero, Tele- 
 machus.” 
 
 The sudden mention of Fanny, and this allusion to 
 their childish days, at once drove every other thought 
 from Lord Alberton’s mind ; and Mrs. Levison took 
 care to pursue the advantage she had gained, by continu- 
 ing to speak of Fanny in termis so kind and affectionate, 
 that he forgot his resentment, and indeed began to 
 believe it quite impossible that it could have been any un- 
 kindness on the part of Emma, that had occasioned the 
 sudden departure of the former. 
 
 They were still speaking of her, when Mrs. Lazenby 
 entered the room, and the sight of her instantly recalled 
 to his mind the different reasons he had for disliking her. 
 
 Mrs. Lazeuby’s feelings towards him, however, ap- 
 peared quite of a contrary nature— foF the pleasure she 
 expressed at seeing him, and the congratulations she 
 poured forth upon his attaining his proper rank and for- 
 tune, were quite overpowering, and considerably hast- 
 ened his departure. 
 
M W IIX 'ir E 
 
 TalLi;. i / N'li champ ton .‘■hoi ur- 
 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 785 
 
 He was riding slowly along, gazing with fond recol- 
 lection at different objects which reminded him of past 
 times, when his attention was attracted by a beautiful 
 girl, who, though clad in the very humblest dress of a 
 cottage child, had something so striking and superior in 
 her look, that he involuntarily turned again to gaze upon 
 her. She was sitting at the foot of a stile, as if to rest, 
 while the earthen jug that stood by her side, indicated 
 that she had been to fetch water from the brook which 
 he had just passed. Her large dark eyes rested on his 
 with a look of curiosity, but without that embarrassment 
 which is usual in English girls, of the class to which she 
 evidently belonged ; and Lord Alberton, forcibly struck 
 with the toute ensemble of her appearance, almost involun- 
 tarily checked his horse, and demanded her name. 
 
 My name is Jeannette, sir,” she replied, her clear 
 olive cheeks crimsoning, though her manner was totally 
 free from aukwardness or bashfulness. 
 
 Alberton was still more surprised and interested, for 
 the girl’s accent, as well as the name she had pro- 
 nounced, was decidedly foreign — and, looking still more 
 earnestly at her, he observed 
 
 “ You do not belong to this neighbourhood, my dear 
 — whose daughter are you ?” 
 
 The girl shook her head, and cast down her eyes ; and 
 Lord Alberton, doubtful whether she comprehended his 
 question, repeated it in French. 
 
 Jeannette’s bright eyes glistened with pleasure as she 
 looked up in his face 
 
 Ah, you understand my language,” she exclaimed ; 
 
 I am so glad to hear it — there is no one here who can 
 talk to me, but Mr. St George, and he so seldom comes 
 
 5 H 
 
786 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 — and that bad, cross Duclos, who never speaks but to 
 grumble and swear.” 
 
 “ And who is Duclos ? and where do you live ? at 
 Mr. St. George^s ?” said Lord Alberton. 
 
 “Oh, no,” she replied, in a melancholy tone. “We 
 live in the little cottage yonder,” and she pointed to one 
 which was just visible through the trees. “ But do not 
 tell any one — for Mr. St. George will be angry, and 
 Louison says she will go away, as soon as she is well 
 — for she does not like to vex him, though he is so 
 cruel !” 
 
 The last observation explained the mystery. 
 
 “ Louison,” said Alberton, “ is ” 
 
 “ My sister, sir. We are orphans — ^but we were so 
 
 happy, till we met but I must not say anything about 
 
 him, for she will be angry — she loves him still, though 
 he has made her shed so many tears ; and now he wants 
 to send her away, and that cross Duclos says we must go 
 — for if Madame St. George finds out that we are here, 
 she will be mad.” 
 
 “ And have you no friends in England ?” said Lord 
 Alberton, who felt his interest every moment increasing 
 for the innocent Jeannette. 
 
 “ Alas, no,” she replied, “ and Louison is so ill — and 
 she frets so — for, if she were to die, what would become 
 of Jeannette. We were so happy, when first we came to 
 England — for Louison got plenty of work from the 
 ladies, and I used to help her, and make her fire, and 
 
 clean the chamber, and but, then he came, and it was 
 
 soon all over ! Louison used to cry so, that she could 
 not work ; and sometimes the flowers were spoiled, and 
 she could not sell them ; and then she got worse and 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 787 
 
 worse, for she could not find out what had become of 
 him, and when, at last, she did find out that he was here, 
 she could not rest till she came to this place. So we left 
 London, and we have been here ever since — though 
 Duclos growls and scolds whenever he brings Louison 
 any money — and it is very little, too — but if she was well, 
 and able to work, and could go back to London, she 
 would not take any at all ; and often and often I have 
 heard her tell Duclos, that she would sooner starve 
 than accept a favour from any one, but for her poor 
 Jeannette.” 
 
 Tears trickled down the cheek of the innocent girl, 
 as she uttered the last sentence ; and Lord Alberton’s 
 gentle tone and manner, as he attempted to soothe her, 
 seemed but to increase her sorrow. 
 
 “ But, tell me, Jeannette,” he observed, “ who is this 
 Duclos, of whom you speak ?” 
 
 ‘‘Ah, he is the friend of Monsieur St. George,” she 
 replied ; and he it Avas to whom my poor father on his 
 death-bed entrusted his children, and the little money he 
 had to leave for their support ! Well, that has been all 
 spent, long ago !** 
 
 “ And Duclos — was he the person who introduced St. 
 George to Louison ?” said Lord Alberton. 
 
 “ Oh, to be sure — yes, he was his friend,” said Jean- 
 nette, after a moment’s reflection, as if not exactly com- 
 prehending at first the question, “ but it is a long while 
 ago since Louison first saw him,” she continued, “ and I 
 Avas so little, I do not remember it — only I know he was 
 ^ood and kind then, and used to call me his little sister ! 
 But, oh, it is different now — for he is rich, and Louison 
 ^ and Jeannette are poor; and he has married a lady. 
 
788 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 instead of Louison, so I am no longer Iiis sister ! But 
 do not tell Louison, if you should see her — for she will 
 be angry — she does not like me to think that he is no 
 longer good and kind.’* 
 
 “ And she is very ill, you say, Jeannette. And who 
 attends her ?” said Lord Alberton. 
 
 “Oh, no one but me,” she replied, “and, oh dear, I 
 must go now — for she will think I am long gone.” 
 
 She raised the pitcher on her head, and dropping a 
 smiling curtsey to Lord Alberton, was turning away, 
 when he called her back. 
 
 “We must not part so, Jeannette,” he observed, “I 
 must give you something to remember me. There,” he 
 continued, putting a couple of guineas into her hand, 
 
 “ only remember that I request, as a favour, that you will 
 say nothing to Mr. St. George, or his friend Duclos, of 
 your having seen a stranger.” 
 
 “ Oh, no, that I will not, if it is your wish. Monsieur,” 
 returned Jeannette, “nor Louison either, if I tell her 
 how kind you were. But will you not tell me your 
 name, for Louison will 'svant to know— ” 
 
 “I will see you again some day,” he observed, “when 
 I am riding this way.” And, without waiting her reply, 
 he rode clf, leaving Jeannette gazing upon the two 
 pieces of gold, of which she scarcely comprehe.uded the 
 real value. 
 
 “ And this is the gay, delightful Mr. St. Geoi’ge, 
 whose praises Emma sounded with so much emphasis ?” 
 he thought to himself. “The life and soul of all oi/r 
 society,” were her words. “ And, were I to repeat wha^ 
 
 1 have heard— were I even to point out to her where the ^ 
 victim of his cruel arts lingers out her mournful existence, \ 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 789 
 
 in poverty and sickness — it would not render him, I dare 
 say, less acceptable to her. Oh, no, the seducer is re- 
 ceived with smiles — it is his wretched victim only that 
 is frowned upon, and left to solitude and despair !” 
 
 The earl was waiting, with considerable impatience, 
 the result of his visit ; and hb betrayed much more dis- 
 appointment than Alb er ton had expected, at hearing that 
 Fanny was really in London, and that thus the union 
 between her and his son, which he now looked forward 
 to with as much interest as he had formerly anticipated 
 his own, was likely to be still farther protracted. 
 
 “ You will write to her, of course, without delay?” he 
 observed ; “ it can be no longer necessary that etiquette 
 and ceremony should intervene between you, and prevent 
 your happiness.” 
 
 Alberton replied in the affirmative, and the very next 
 post carried, not only a long and affectionate letter from 
 him, in which he conjured Fanny to confirm his happi- 
 ness, by becoming at once his wife ; but also a more for- 
 mal one from the Earl to Miss Rachel, entreating her to 
 use her influence with her niece, to consent, at once, to 
 accept the hand of his son ; and declaring his readiness to 
 enter into any arrangements that the former might think 
 proper, for his future daughter-in-law. 
 
 Though feeling conscious that he could have no rea- 
 sonable cause to fear any opposition to his wishes. Lord 
 Alberton had been so long inured to disappointment, that 
 he could by no means bring himself to look upon the 
 affair (as Lord Raeburn did) as definitively settled ; and 
 most heavily and tediously did the hours lag on, which 
 necessarily elapsed before the expected reply could reach 
 them. 
 
790 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 At length it came. 
 
 “ Here is a whole budget of letters from London !’* 
 said the Earl, who entered the breakfast-room at the 
 same moment as his son. 
 
 Lord Alberton, however, saw none but that which bore 
 Fanny^s well-known hand-writing, and instantly selecting 
 it, he retreated to the recess of the bow- window to open 
 it, where his emotions could not be observed. 
 
 The Earl had, in the mean time, seated himself at the 
 breakfast-table to perusej at his leisure. Miss Rachel’s 
 reply to him. 
 
 “ What can be the meaning of all this ?” he suddenly 
 exclaimed. “ What crotchets have got into the old lady’s 
 head ? Tell me, Alberton — Fanny has written to you, 
 what does she say ? for I can scarcely believe my senses ! 
 
 Her aunt writes to say ” 
 
 That she rejects my offer, sir ! is it not to that pur- 
 port ?” said Alberton, with assumed coolness. 
 
 “ It certainly appears so,” returned the Earl, “ and she 
 refers me to you for an explanation why she does so ; 
 convinced, she says, that, if you choose to be candid with 
 me, I shall agree with her in thinking that such an union 
 will be little likely to secure the happiness of the beloved 
 
 being ^but read her letter — or tell me, first, does 
 
 Fanny write in the same strain ? And, if you can, explain 
 what can have induced them to act so differently to what 
 we expected, for I am sure you could not have foreseen, 
 any more than myself, this termination of our hopes.” 
 
 “ I certainly did foresee that it was just possible that 
 appearances might require some explanation,” returned 
 Lord Alberton, “ but, I confess, I was unprepared for 
 such unequivocal condemnation as it seems I have 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 791 
 
 incurred. There is one consolation, however,” he con- 
 tinued, smiling, “ that Fanny, in defiance of the prudent 
 counsels of her friends, declares herself on my side. She 
 will distrust, she says, even the evidence of her own sen- 
 ses, until I acknowledge myself guilty; and though she 
 adjures me, rather too solemnly, to explain, with perfect 
 candour, the circumstances alluded to, to convince me 
 that she is quite free from all suspicion — still I have not 
 the slightest fear that my confession will satisfy her, and 
 in so doing remove, as she says, every ' obstacle to our 
 mutual happiness.” • 
 
 ‘‘ Bravo ! she is the same open-hearted, generous girl 
 I have ever thought her !” exclaimed Earl Raeburn, 
 ‘‘ but, now do explain, for I am on the tenter-hooks of 
 curiosity— what could have given rise to all these demurs 
 and delays?” 
 
 Lord Alberton explained the whole affair, from his 
 first rencontre with Mrs. Wilmington and her sister, 
 in the box of the theatre, to the fracas of which he was a 
 witness between the former and her husband ; and his 
 (Alberton’s) subsequent interference, with its con- 
 sequences. All this, as he foresaw, had been most in- 
 dustriously misrepresented by his old enemy, Mrs. Irwin, 
 who had never forgotten or forgiven his spirited rebuff 
 to her, in their first interview, in defence of Fanny — but 
 there was another, and a still more potent cause why 
 Mrs. Irwin so sedulously arrayed herself against Lord 
 Alberton; and though Fanny, in her letter to the latter, 
 but slightly hinted at that which had influenced her aunf s 
 decided negative of his proposal, she had said quite enough 
 to rouse his jealousy up in arms, and render him doubly 
 impatient to vindicate himself from the false accusations 
 
792 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 which his appearance in the coach with Mrs. Wilrniiig- 
 ton had so opportunely confirmed, at least to Mrs. Irwin’s 
 satisfaction. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles, 
 
 His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 We must now retrace our steps to the period when 
 Fanny, by the death of her father, and the mortifying- dis- 
 covery that she had no legitimate claim to the title of his 
 daughter, and consequently, no claim at all to the fortune 
 he had certainly intended for her, found herself left en- 
 tirely dependant on the kindness and affection of her 
 aunt, who too, she now learned, was, by her recent 
 loss, reduced from the greatest affluence, to comparative 
 poverty. 
 
 It was not for a considerable period, indeed, that 
 Fanny could he brought to contemplate her situation 
 with regret. The loss of her father had deadened lier 
 heart to all other afflictions; she cared nothing for wealdi 
 or distinction ; and though she suffered the most acute 
 agony at the discovery of her birth, it was not because she 
 felt that any stigma attached to herself, but she mourned 
 tiiat her father should ever have deviated from those strict 
 principles of honour which had governed his every action. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 793 
 
 ill the latter part of his life. And she mourned, too, 
 bitterly mourned, for the sorrows of her mother, whom 
 he had so often spoken of, as the model of all that was 
 lovely, and pure, and innocent. 
 
 Time, however, that great ameliorator of all sov'fows, 
 began to soften the acuteness of her regret for the only 
 parent she had ever known ; but to those pure and natural 
 feelings soon succeeded causes for grief much more bitter, 
 and more likely to be lasting. 
 
 She was not herself the first to discover that she was 
 no longer treated with deference by Mrs. Lazenby, or 
 with quite the usual kindness and confidence by Mrs. 
 Charles Levison; but when once her eyes were opened 
 to the fiict by her aunt’s tearful remarks, she became 
 instantly anxious to quit for ever the residence in which, 
 as poor Miss Rachel observed, they were evidently con- 
 sidered intruders. 
 
 The first announcement of their intention, however, 
 was received with well-feigned surprise, and well-sustained 
 opposition on the part of Mrs. Lazenby and her daughter. 
 
 It would have such a strange appearance,” the for- 
 mer observed, ‘‘and the world would be ill-natured 
 enough, perhaps, to put a wrong construction on their 
 departure, and say that they (herself and Mrs. Charles 
 Levison) had acted unkindly by them, and made their 
 residence irksome, and that she was sure was quite con- 
 trary to the truth; for it was both Emma’s wish and 
 hers, that they should consider Levison Hall as much at 
 their disposal as it had ever been. She hoped that Fanny 
 did not think the proposal to convert her bed-room and 
 dressing-room into a nursery, as being more airy than 
 
 5 I 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 794 . 
 
 the one hitherto appropriated for that purpose, was in- 
 tended ” 
 
 “ Pray, madam, spare yourself this trouble,” interrupted 
 Fanny, somewhat abruptly, do not suppose that I arro- 
 gate to myself the right of being offended, or indeed of 
 having any feelings at all on the subject.” 
 
 Mrs. Lazenby was silenced, “ Somebody must have 
 repeated to her the very words I used, when speaking of 
 her,” she thought to herself, and feeling, though some- 
 what abashed, that all farther hypocrisy was needless, she 
 waived any reply to one who she was conscious had but 
 too much cause for the resentment which her answer 
 betrayed. 
 
 To Emma’s ready tears, Fanny was equally impene- 
 trable. She did not, indeed, believe that the regret the 
 latter expressed was altogether feigned ; for she did not 
 consider that Emma was either hypocritical, or naturally 
 bad-hearted; but she had, for some weeks, seen that 
 the still gay, thoughtless widow, far from having been 
 sobered by the late melancholy events, was longing 
 anxiously to enjoy her unrestrained freedom, and the 
 splendid resources which would now enable her to indulge 
 her love of show, extravagance, and dissipation. 
 
 To all this, the presence of Fanny and her aunt was 
 of course a check — she could not throw off entirely the 
 appearance of sorrow and mourning, while their tears 
 were stiU flowing, and their mournful looks respondent 
 to their sable habits. 
 
 Had she Keen left entirely to herself, indeed, Mrs. 
 Charles Levison would probably have both felt and acted 
 with much more real kindness and sincerity towards 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER, 
 
 795 
 
 Fanny, for whom she felt as much affection as it was pos- 
 sible a mind so volatile and unreflecting as hers could feel; 
 but her mother’s influence counteracted all that her 
 natural kindness of disposition would have suggested — 
 and led her to look upon both Fanny and her aunt as in- 
 cumbrances ; and, what was still more conclpsiye in 
 closing her heart towards them, as being disposed to view 
 her with no friendly feelings, for having intruded between 
 them and the wealth they had expected to enjoy. 
 
 Though she shed, therefore, “some natural tecfrs,” 
 when Miss Rachel announced her intended departure, 
 they were soon dried by her mother’s adroit insinuations, 
 and the prospects of gaiety and enjoyment which lay 
 before her, unchequered by their reproof, and unclouded 
 by their melancholy. 
 
 Mrs. Lazenby, however, indulged much deeper views 
 in her wish to get rid of Fanny Levison, than she at once 
 disclosed to her daughter. She knew that if was highly 
 probable that Lord Alberton would, in a short period, 
 revisit the place of his birth, and most probably take pos- 
 session of the beautiful estate which she understood the 
 Earl had relinquished to him. Emma was still beautiful 
 in her mother’s eyes ; indeed, she was handsomer than 
 she had been, even in her girlish days. She was now 
 rich, too, and at her (Mrs. Lazenby’s) decease, would be 
 still richer. The estates (Lord Alberton’s, and Levison 
 Hall) joined, and, indeed, she did not see, taking all 
 things together, how Lord Alberton could make a better 
 or more proper choice than to marry the blooming widow 
 of his friend. He had ever shown the warmest interest, 
 the kindest attention, to Emma ; and had he possessed a 
 suitable fortune when she first knew him, as the protege 
 
796 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 of Mr. Levisoii, he would liave been the very person she 
 should have chosen for a son-in-law; and how much 
 greater now were his recommendations to her favour, 
 when, in addition to a princely fortune, it was in his 
 power to confer on her daughter the title, eventually, of 
 a countess. 
 
 To all these day-dreams, there was but one serious 
 obstacle — Alberton’s known ardent attachment to Fanny; 
 but she trusted that, even if Alberton should be so fool- 
 ishly romantic as to be willing to overlook the dispa- 
 ragement of her birth, and the loss of her fortune, the 
 Earl of Raeburn, who had seen so much more of the 
 world, would think differently; in short, Mrs. Lazenh}', 
 like most people whose minds are ardently fixed on one 
 object, thought light of all that opposed it. Could she 
 get rid of Fanny before Alberton came down, the rest 
 would be easy of attainment. . 
 
 These hopes appeared all on the point of realisation, 
 when the intended departure of the aunt and niece was 
 announced; but they received again a sudden check, when 
 aunt Rachel, with conscious pride and pleasure, put into 
 Mrs. Charles Levison’s hands the letter in which Earl 
 Raeburn, with every expression of respect and com- 
 miseration, entreated them to take possession of his man- 
 sion, and consider it as their own ; adding a hint, which 
 was very easily interpreted, that at no distant period he 
 hoped it ivould be more than in name their own. 
 
 “Well, and you will accept the offer, surely, madam?’’ 
 said Emma, who had read the letter aloud, without at all 
 comprehending the feelings it excited in her mother’s 
 bosom. 
 
 “ Certainly not,” said Fanny, decidedly, “ but I beg 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 797 
 
 my dear aunt’s pardon for anticipating her, though I am 
 
 sure I know ” and she looked her aunt earnestly in 
 
 the face. 
 
 “ Yes, you are quite right, my dear — I shall decline 
 this offer, though I feel its full value. Not that I ever 
 suspected Earl Raeburn to be one of those summer 
 friends who would fly off at the first indication of a 
 frost. As to Alberton, I would answer for his heart 
 as I would for my own — he would he the last to be 
 swayed by mercenary considerations. Nevertheless, I 
 shall, for the present,” (and she laid a strong emphasis 
 on the last words,) decline taking possession of his 
 house.” 
 
 ‘‘Well, lam better reconciled to parting with you, 
 now,” said Mrs. Charles Levison, addressing Fanny; 
 “ for I see plainly that, at no distant period, you will he 
 my neighbour.” 
 
 Fanny smiled. It was evident that the thought was 
 not displeasing to her — hut the smile was speedily trans- 
 formed to a sigh, by a remark from Mrs. Lazenhy. 
 
 “Well,” she observed, “ I should certainly not have 
 been surprised at such an offer from Lord Alberton, 
 because I know he has always been wonderfully romantic 
 — but I confess that from Earl Raeburn — a man of the 
 world, and one who can fully value the advantages of 
 birth and fortune — and yet, after all,, perhaps, it is not 
 to be wondered at — for a man who was so weak as to 
 fall violently in love at his age, cannot be a very wise 
 man ; and it may be, perhaps, that he has 'not quite dis- 
 missed the tender feeling, even yet, though he cannot, with 
 
 any propriety Dear me, I hope I have said nothing 
 
 offensive ! Fanny, I see, has left the room in a pet.” 
 
798 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ It cannot be supposed that the subject you have 
 chosen is particularly pleasing, madam,” said Miss 
 Rachel, ‘‘ but we will dismiss it, for it recals recollec- 
 tions, even to me, that I would wish buried in oblivion.” 
 
 Within a few days from this conversation, and while 
 Fanny and her aunt were still undetermined whither to 
 bend their course, and more than half inclined to put in 
 practice a plan they had often talked of, of making a 
 complete tour of England and Wales, which would be 
 more likely, as Miss Rachel observed, to restore their 
 spirits, than silting down at once, quietly, in a strange 
 home — the latter received a most pressing invitation from 
 her old friend, Mrs. Irwin, to join her and her husband 
 in London ; from which place they intended, after a few 
 weeks’ residence, to proceed to Swansea, where a house 
 and other property had been lately bequeathed to Mr. 
 Irwin. As an additional motive for accepting this invi- 
 tation, Mrs. Irwin wrote, that there were reasons to 
 believe that the affairs of the banking-house, the failure 
 of which had been so detrimental to Miss Rachel’s 
 interests, were likely to prove much more favourable 
 than had been expected ; and that it would certainly be 
 desirable that she should be on the spot, till they were 
 finally arranged. 
 
 To London, therefore, Rachel and her niece departed 
 — for Fanny, though she certainly contemplated, with no 
 very delightful anticipation, a residence with Mrs. Irwin, 
 whose austere manners and narrow and illiberal mind 
 had impressed her with no very pleasant recollections, 
 was still too attentive to her aunt’s interest and feelings 
 to offer any objection. 
 
 Contrary to her expectations, Mrs. Irwin’s reception 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 799 
 
 of her was far more kind and considerate than when she 
 had beheld her in a more elevated station ; and Fanny- 
 felt proportionately grateful, for she had, from the first, 
 made up her mind that, if it was possible that the change 
 in her situation had effected so great an alteration even 
 in the estimation of one whom she had loved and treated 
 with the affection of a sister, as in the case of Emma, she 
 could have little reason to hope that it would not much 
 more influence the mind of Mrs. Irwin. 
 
 The hopes which the latter had held out respecting 
 Miss Levison’s money, were amply realised, and she soon 
 found that her loss would be eventually trifling. 
 
 It is not for my own sake that I rejoice so much,” 
 observed the old lady, “ but because Fanny, come what 
 may, will now be above the frowns of the world.” 
 
 “Yes, she will have a very pretty fortune,” returned 
 Mrs. Irwin, to whom this was addressed ; “ and now, 
 my dear old friend, I have a proposal to make, to which, 
 I trust, you will give your most serious consideration. 
 I know that Fanny and you entertain ideas that Lord 
 Alberton will renew his proposals — ^now, I will tell you 
 plainly, I do not think he will ; but that is not what I was 
 about to speak of — you cannot be blind to the fact, that 
 Mr. Irwin’s nephew, Edmund, is desperately in love 
 with Fanny.” 
 
 “ Why, I will not pretend to say that I have not seen 
 it ; and, indeed, I know that Fanny has felt considerably 
 annoyed by his persevering attentions, though she has 
 said nothing.” 
 
 “ I am sorry they should annoy her,” replied Mrs. 
 Irwin ; ‘‘ for, the fact is, both Mr. Irwin and myself have 
 felt very much rejoiced at his attention — for Edmund has, 
 
soo 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 as you know, given his uncle and me much trouble by 
 his wild conduct — but he is now beginning to see his 
 error, and is anxious to settle in the world, steadily and 
 happily. It is in Fanny’s power, I am sure, to make an 
 excellent husband of him — for, with her superior good 
 sense and management, she could do anything she pleased 
 with him. Of his prospects I need not speak — for you 
 know, Rachel, he is sole heir to all Mr. Irwin’s property, 
 but as to his own, I believe, candidly, he has contrived 
 pretty well to dissipate it.” 
 
 But, my dear friend,” interrupted Miss Rachel, 
 somewhat impatiently, what is the use of all this, when 
 you know Alberton and her are so firmly attached to each 
 other, that ” 
 
 “ I am by no means convinced of that,” replied Mrs. 
 Irwin; ^'but, however, all I ask is for you to think 
 seriously of this offer, and if Lord Alberton should not 
 realise your expectations, or if anything should occur to 
 alter those views, I hope you will do your best in favour 
 of Edmund.” 
 
 Certainly — I am sure there does not exist another in 
 the world, whom I would prefer to your nephew, if Lord 
 
 Alberton but, oh no — I am sure that it is settled 
 
 -“I am as sure as that I live, that Alberton will never 
 think of any one but her.” 
 
 Well, well — but if he should,” said Mrs. Irwin. 
 
 “Yes, if he should,” returned aunt Rachel, in a tone of 
 doubt. 
 
 From this time, and indeed for some time previous, 
 Fanny felt, as Rachel had expressed it, greatly annoyed 
 by Edmund Irwin’s attentions. 
 
 Gay, giddy, and apparently good-humoured, possess- 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 801 
 
 ing" a great talent for conversation, and considerable 
 intelligence and information, Edmund Irwin had been a 
 very pleasant companion; and Fanny had, perhaps, given 
 him some encouragement to believe that his addresses 
 would not be unwelcome, by the preference she had 
 shewn to converse with him, rather than any other of 
 the persons whom she met at Mr. Irwin’s : but the fact 
 was, there was no great compliment in this preference-*^ 
 for Mr, and Mrs. Irwin’s associates were none of them 
 such as could, by any possibility, assimilate with Fanny 
 Levison; and she flew to Edmund’s lively rattle and 
 sinall-talk, as a refuge from the heavy dulness of the 
 males, and the ill-natured scandal of the females of 
 the coterie^ who occasionally passed their evenings with 
 her present hosts. 
 
 No sooner, however, was she awakened to the inten- 
 tions of Mrs. Irwin and her nephew, than she resolved, 
 at once, to put an end to them, by unequivocally avoiding 
 to give Edmund any opportunity of conversing with her, 
 and by treating him with the greatest reserve; but 
 neither this, nor her positive refusal, when at length the 
 proposition was formally made through her aunt, that she 
 should bestow her hand on the self-sufficient young law- 
 yer, could put an end to their hopes that she would even- 
 tually be brought (to use Mrs. Irwin’s expression) “ to 
 see her own interest.” 
 
 So long, however, as her aunt Rachel remained firm 
 on her side, Fanny, though she felt annoyed by the 
 importunities of Edmund and his aunt, (the latter of 
 whom having, as she said, set her mind upon the match, 
 was indefatigable in her endeavours to bring it about,) 
 did not consider it worth seriously grieving for ; consider- 
 
 5 K 
 
802 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ing-, too, as she certainly did, at the bottom of her iieart, 
 that the first appearance of Lord Alberton would at once 
 put an end to all their hopes, and her persecution. 
 
 In the first moments of mortification and sorrow, at 
 discovering her real situation in the world, after her 
 father’s death, Fanny had been led to form many proud 
 and romantic resolutions. She would never — never — 
 see Alberton again ! Oh no, degraded as she felt she 
 was, she could not, if even he should be generous enough 
 to overlook her loss of birth and fortune, ever bring her- 
 self to accept his offers ; and, lest her heroism should be 
 put to too severe a test, she was importunate with her 
 aunt that they should leave Levison Hall, before Lord 
 Alberton should come into the neighbourhood. 
 
 Though sorely puzzled to comprehend motives which 
 appeared, to her plain, matter-of-fact understanding, as 
 totally inconsistent with common sense, aunt Rachel was 
 so accustomed to square her wishes and actions by those 
 of her niece, that she yielded to her even in this point 
 v/ith little opposition. 
 
 Fanny, however, soon began to think more calmly on 
 the subject; the letter of Lord Raeburn to her aunt, 
 convinced her that the latter still remained unchanged by 
 her reverse of fortune — and, from the first moment of 
 her residence at Mrs. Irwin’s, she had secretly indulged 
 the pleasing idea that Alberton would speedily discover 
 her retreat, and hasten to renew his vows. 
 
 Alas, most woefully were these visions of happiness 
 dispersed, at the very moment when she believed herself 
 most secure ! 
 
 She was seated between her aunt and Mrs. Irwin, in 
 one of the upper boxes of Drury Lane Theatre, and Mr. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 803 
 
 Edmund Irwin, who was behind them, was at once dis- 
 playing* his acquaintance with the fashionable world, and 
 gratifying his own vanity, in shewing himself to those 
 around him as the intimate friend of the young beauty, 
 who attracted universal admiration, by whispering, from 
 time to time, the names or anecdotes of any one whom 
 she appeared to consider particularly striking. 
 
 Among others whom Fanny’s eyes rested on, were the 
 two .showy females, who have been before noticed as 
 Mrs. Wilmington and Miss Delaney ; the former, Fanny 
 instantly recognised, and the recollections connected with 
 the discovery occasioned her to change countenance, so 
 as to attract the notice of her aunt, who, with some alarm, 
 inquired the cause of it. 
 
 Fanny, in a low voice, communicated to her who it 
 was that sat immediately opposite to them, and aunt 
 Rachel instantly raised her glass to take a survey of the 
 unblushing woman, by whom she had been once so 
 egregiously deceived. 
 
 Good heavens !” she exclaimed, turning to Fanny, 
 who had averted her eyes from one whom she could hot 
 look at without shuddering — “ good gracious !” repeated 
 the old lady, in a tone of undissembled surprise, “ do look, 
 Fanny — and tell me if I am right ? Is not one of those 
 gentlemen at the back of her box, Denzil himself ? I 
 mean. Lord Alberton,” she added, correcting herself. 
 
 Fanny did look — and as hastily withdrew her eyes — ^it 
 was him ! She could not doubt it ; and, to add to her 
 distress at beholding him thus situated, the Irwins had 
 all heard her aunt’s indiscreet exclamation, and their eyes 
 were now all fixed on the unsuspicious Alberton, whose 
 attention seemed wholly engrossed by the gentleman to 
 whom he was talking. 
 
804 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 I do not, after all, believe he is of tlieir party,” said 
 the candid Rachel, ‘‘and, in a theatre, one is some- 
 times ” 
 
 “ There can be no doubt, now,” said Mrs. Irwin, in 
 a triumphant tone. “ See, his companion has taken bis 
 seat between them.” 
 
 Fanny turned red and pale, ten times in a minute, and 
 kept her eyes determinately fixed on the stage, though 
 she knew nothing that was passing there, and heard 
 nothing but the conversation which was going on between 
 Mr. Irwin and his nephew behind her; in which she 
 heard the latter remark, that, if that was Lord Alberton, 
 of whom he had heard so much, he could only say that he 
 believed there was not a greater rake upon town, unless, 
 indeed, it was his present associate. Captain Danvers. I 
 have often wondered who he was,” continued young Ir- 
 win, “ for he is constantly with the officers of the guards, 
 lounging about in the morning, and — oh, I remember — 
 — yes, yes, I see now— it is the very person I mean — I 
 have heard him called Danvers’s pupil, but I never had 
 the curiosity to inquire who he was.” 
 
 “ Are you sure, Edmund ?” said Mr. Irwin, who 
 usually took the good-natured side, “ are you sure that 
 you have seen him before ?” 
 
 “ I could take you to a house which they regularly 
 frequent, and where I have seen that young hero sporting 
 his hundreds, if not thousands, of a night.” 
 
 “ No, no — I should be sorry to be the; witness of such 
 a scene,” said Mr. Irwin, “ for his sake, and for the sake 
 of- — -but, hush ! say no more on the subject. Fanny, 
 my dear, you look tired, and your aunt, I suspect, would 
 rather not stay out the farce.” 
 
 Miss Rachel assented— -Edmund left the box to order 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 805 
 
 his uncle’s carriage ; and the party, under the protection 
 of Mr, Irwin, slowly followed; hut, if Fanny had before 
 felt surprised and hurt at beholding Alberton in such un- 
 expected society, what was her distress when her aunt, 
 drawing her arm closer to hers, whispered 
 
 “ See, there he is again ! and that shameless woman, 
 too !” 
 
 Fanny comprehended nothing that was said to her — 
 nothing that passed during their ride home ; she answered, 
 indeed, mechanically to what was addressed to her — but 
 ,she could see nothing, think of nothing, but Alberton fol- 
 lowing Mrs. Wilmington into the hackney-coach, and 
 her voice directing the coachman whither to drive. 
 
 She was soon, however, condemned to hear more than 
 even this ; for Edmund Irwin had witnessed a great part 
 of the altercation between Mrs. Wilmingtron and her 
 husband, and her subsequent appeal to Lord Alberton, 
 
 ' and he now related the tale to his uncle, in the manner he 
 thought best suited to promote his own purposes, repre- 
 senting Alberton as the cause of the separation between 
 the husband and wife ; and that the latter had finally out- 
 raged all common decency, by carrying her off with him. 
 The servant’s account, though not exactly tho same, in 
 part confirmed this tale, which was repeated by Mrs. Ir- 
 wjn to Miss Rachel, and from her to Fanny, as a convinc- 
 ing proof of Alberton’s total degeneracy. 
 
 Fortunately, the very excess of vice which was attri- 
 buted to Alberton, convinced Fanny that there was some 
 misrepresentation in the whole affair. She recollected 
 how hastily and wrongfully he had been judged before ; 
 and, even in spite of what she had herself seen, she deter- 
 ' mined to believe him innocent. 
 
806 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ I will never believe him guilty, till he pleads guilty 
 himself,” was her constant reply to her aunt ; while to 
 Mrs. Irwin she became even a more determined defender 
 of his fame, and more decidedly than ever repugnant to the 
 addresses of Mr. Edmund Irwin, whom she now abso- 
 lutely hated, for the petty malignity which he displayed 
 towards him whom he considered as his rival. 
 
 Affairs were in this position when Alberton’s letter 
 to^ Fanny, and Earl Raeburn’s to Miss Rachel, were re- 
 ceived. 
 
 For the first time since Fanny had arrived at years of 
 discretion, her aunt acted without consulting her in a 
 matter where she was concerned ; but the old lady was 
 gradually yielding herself entirely to the dominion of her 
 presumptuous and domineering friend, Mrs. Irwin ; and 
 by her advice, before she even conferred with Fanny, 
 was her reply, containing a decided rejection of Lord 
 Alberton’s proposal, forwarded to Earl Raeburn. 
 
 Fanny’s letter, however, as we have seen, conveyed 
 very different sentiments; and so- far did both Lord 
 Alberton and his father consider it in the light of an 
 encouragement, that, within twenty-four hours of its 
 receipt, they were both on their way towards London. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 807 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 In all 
 
 Such have I found him as my father said. 
 
 Byrotj. 
 
 Never, perhaps, was surprise and consternation more 
 unequivocally betrayed, than in the party which still 
 lingered over the breakfast-table at Mr. Irwin’s, when 
 Earl Raeburn’s carriage drew up to the door» 
 
 Unaccustomed to practise the fashionable mode of 
 denial to visitors, by not choosing to be at home, there 
 was no resource but to endeavour to put a good face on 
 the matter, though Mrs. Irwin was ready to sink, as she 
 declared, with surprise, at the intrusion. 
 
 The Earl and Lord Alberton were announced, and 
 entered together; and, certainly, never did the counte- 
 nance of guilt assume so open, so cheerful an aspect, as 
 that worn by Alberton, who, without even glancing at 
 Edmund Irwin, who seemed to shrink into half his usual 
 dimensions at the approach of his dignified rival, advanced 
 instantly to Fanny. 
 
 , “You have called upon me to vindicate myself in the 
 eyes of your friends, my dearest Fanny,” he observed, 
 “ and I have come to obey your call.” 
 
 “ Bold in the consciousness of innocence, no doubt, my 
 lord,” said Mrs. Irwin, with her usual promptness and 
 sarcastic sneer. 
 
808 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 “ Precisely so, madam,” and Alberton bowed to lior, 
 with a smile which increased the bitterness with which 
 she beheld him. 
 
 The Earl, who at first had addressed Miss Rachel, (who 
 had found it very difficult to preserve the air of reserve 
 and coolness she had thought it necessary to assume 
 towards him,) now approached Fanny. It was evident 
 that it cost him a considerable struggle to address her 
 without confusion ; but the frank and innocent pleasure 
 with which she held out her hand to welcome him, seemed 
 at once to restore his self-possession, and in a few 
 moments they appeared on perfectly easy terms with 
 each other ; while Rachel, scarcely able to restrain her 
 pleasure, yet evidently fearing to offend her severe friend 
 Mrs. Irwin, hovered between her usual cordial kind- 
 ness of manner, and an attempt to appear distant and 
 reserved. 
 
 Mrs. Irwin sat frowning and biting her lips — Mr. 
 Irwin, as usual, all fidget and good-humoured curiosity, 
 seemed anxiously expecting the forth-coming explanation, 
 while his nephew, at once foreseeing, from Alberton’s 
 assured easy manners, and Fanny’s corresponding smiles, 
 that all his own hopes were at an end, appeared to be 
 revolving in his mind whether it would not be most 
 expedient for him to withdraw, before he met with 
 further mortification. 
 
 It would be useless to follow Lord Alberton in his 
 eloquent defence of himself to Miss Rachel and Mrs. 
 Irwin, since our readers are already in possession of the 
 truth of the affair, which had been so misrepresented, and 
 which had certainly borne a very strange appearance. 
 
 A letter from Mrs. Wilmington, in which she expressed 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 809 
 
 not only her gratitude for his opportune assistance, but 
 her determination, by a life of honest industry, to expiate 
 lier former faults, confirmed needlessly,” as Miss Rachel 
 observed, his explanation ; and Mrs. Irwin, even against 
 her own will, was compelled to acknowledge that it was 
 a perfectly satisfactory explanation. 
 
 From motives of delicacy, Eanijy had withdrawn to 
 the adjoining room, the library, attended by Earl Rae- 
 burn, and followed by Edv/ard Irwin, who eagerly 
 sought an opportunity of pouring into her ear his sighs 
 of regret and, as he said, hopeless despair, at being com- 
 pelled to relinquish his cherished hopes. 
 
 Fanny’s bright colour for a moment faded, and her 
 eyes were cast down, as she listened to his impassioned 
 expressions, and trembled lest his influence, and that of 
 his relatives, might, even yet, intervene between her and 
 happiness; but these fears were soon removed, when 
 Alberton, with sparkling eyes, entered the room, and, 
 
 advancing to her, whispered 
 
 Nov/ then, rny ever dear, ever beloved Fanny, I am 
 at length permitted freely to claim you as my own !” 
 
 The Earl replaced the book which he had taken from 
 the shelf, and Mr. Irwin, understanding his significant 
 smile, led the way into the room in which the two old 
 ladies were seated. His nephew, reluctantly, and with a 
 look full of reproachful meaning to Fanny, who however 
 , did not observe it, followed in obedience to the signal 
 he had received. 
 
 Fanny, too, arose, but she was gently detained by the 
 enraptured Alberton, who, for the first time, enjoyed the 
 precious privilege of breathing in her ear his vows of 
 
 5 L 
 
810 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 never-ending love, and of pressing her to confirm his 
 happiness by the last, the most sacred of ties. 
 
 Fanny, however, though above all affectation, was by 
 no means prepared to accede to what she considered a 
 most unseemly and hurried proposal ; and the affair was at 
 length compromised by her agreeing that Earl Raeburn 
 and aunt Rachel should decide when the marriage cere- 
 mony should take place. 
 
 Finding that she had no longer a hope of advancing 
 her nephew’s interest, and delighting in the opportunity 
 of being busy and of consequence, Mrs. Irwin at length 
 condescended to relax from her haughty mood towards 
 Lord Alberton, and enter with earnestness into the 
 details which she and her friend Rachel considered ne- 
 cessary; and all Alberton’s dislike of her was converted 
 into gratitude, when he found that she had been a most 
 strenuous advocate for shortening the period fixed for the 
 performance of the marriage ceremony, which Rachel had 
 at first decided should be six weeks from that day, but at 
 her intercession had agreed it should take place at the 
 end of one month ; the old lady very adroitly, though 
 not very delicately, hinting that Fanny had less need of 
 preparation than was usual on such occasions, as she had 
 already more bridal finery in her possession than fell to 
 the lot of most young ladies. 
 
 Fortunately, neither Alberton or his father heard this 
 allusion to past events, and were thus spared from some 
 painful feelings; and a remonstrance from Miss Rachel 
 prevented any repetition of it. But Mrs. Irwin was 
 sadly disappointed, and not a little vexed, at Fanny’s 
 obstinately insisting that the ceremony should be per- 
 formed as privately, and with as few witnesses as possible; 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 811 
 
 the propriety of which requisition was strongly though 
 silently conceded by Lord Alberton and his father. 
 
 A month of unalloyed happiness, as regarded the present 
 and the future, and only sometimes tinged with melan- 
 choly by a retrospection of the past, flew rapidly away. 
 Rosa Somerville had, during this time, become again 
 Fanny’s inseparable companion, and Edmund Irwin, 
 having already found consolation for the loss of Fanny in 
 the smiles of the beautiful young heiress, and promising in 
 reality to dismiss all his former follies and become worthy 
 of his uncle and aunt’s fond partiality, assisted to form a 
 delightful partie quarre^ while the old folks, among whom 
 the Earl of Raeburn now contentedly took up his station, 
 (being quite satisfied to find his happiness in that of his 
 son,) employed themselves in arranging all that was 
 necessary to the future prospects of the bride and bride- 
 groom. 
 
 At the appointed time the nuptial ceremony took place, 
 which confirmed, though it could not increase, the affec- 
 tion which had for so many years united the hearts of Al- 
 berton and his Fanny, and they immediately left town, 
 accompanied only by Rosa Somerville, for Cheltenham ; 
 from whence they, after a fortnight’s stay in that gay and 
 fashionable sojourn, departed to join the Earl, Mr. Dor- 
 mer, and Miss Rachel Levison, who, together with the 
 Irwins, awaited their arrival in Cumberland ; but, as if 
 to convince them that human happiness can never long 
 exist without some alloy, they found that a sad tale awaited 
 them on their arrival. • 
 
 Mrs. Charles Levison, forgetful of the ties of duty to 
 her child, to herself, and to the memory of the husband 
 she had lost under such peculiarly distressing circum- 
 
812 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 stances, had become so infatuated by the seductive arts of 
 St. George, that she had yielded to his persuasions and 
 eloped with him, it was believed, to Italy; leaving 
 Madame St. George in a state of distraction, at having 
 bestowed herself and her fortune upon an ungrateful man, 
 Avho had not even the decency to pretend kindness 
 towards her, after he had attained his object of getting 
 possession of her money. 
 
 As if to add to the enormity of Emma’s guilty conduct, 
 her neglected child died in convulsions, the very night 
 she quitted her home ; and Mrs, Lazenby, heartstruck at 
 seeing all her hopes and schemes thus defeated, had taken 
 to her bed, from which she never expected she would 
 again arise. 
 
 Ever anxious to administer consolation to the afflicted, 
 Fanny (now Lady Alberton) proposed to her aunt, on 
 the morning after their arrival, to visit Mrs. Lazenby, 
 whom, though she could not respect, she sincerely com- 
 passionated. 
 
 ‘‘ And I, in the mean time,” observed Lord Alberton, 
 to whom she mentioned her intention, will ride over 
 towards the cottage which was the residence of Louison, 
 and endeavour to learn some news of my little friend 
 Jeannette, and her unfortunate sister.” 
 
 Tears of compassion stood in Fanny’s bright eyes, 
 which he fondly kissed away, and they both departed on 
 their errands of charity. 
 
 In a few hours, tliey met again — and it was plain that 
 both had had much to agitate them. 
 
 Have you time to spare a few minutes, before you 
 go to dress, my love ?” inquired Lord Alberton, as ho 
 assisted her from the carriage; and, reading lier reply 
 
THE GIPSY IMOTIlEll. 
 
 813 
 
 in her looks, he led Fanny to the housekeeper’s room, 
 where she beheld the beautiful girl, for whom she had 
 already been interested by the statement Alberton had 
 given of his former interview with her. 
 
 Louison was dead — the charity of some of Madame St. 
 George’s servants, Avho were of the same country, had 
 supplied the means of burying her; and poor Jeannette 
 Avas left in the miserable cottage alone, to depend on the 
 casual contributions of those who Avere compelled to 
 bestoAV their favors in secret, lest Madame St. George 
 should discover their kindness and her retreat, and by 
 learning the story connected with her, Avould resent Avhat 
 tliey had done for the poor orphan. 
 
 There needed no other recommendation than her OAvn 
 beautiful and eloquent countenance, to bespeak Lady 
 Alberton’s favour for poor Jeannette ; and tears for the 
 loss of her poor Louison Avere quickly succeeded by smiles 
 of gratitude on the countenance of Jeannette, Avhen she 
 found that she Avas indeed to remain under the protection 
 of the beautiful lady, Avhom she soon learned to value for 
 charms far more precious than she could at present 
 estimate; and to whom she remained attached, Avith the 
 most enthusiastic fervour, to the end of her existence, 
 during Avhich she Avas successively the play-felloAv and 
 nurse of the beautiful and amiable children of Lord and 
 Lady Alberton, Avho shared her love with their parents, 
 and reAvarded her devotion to them by the fondest 
 affection. 
 
 But, to return to our story, Avhich we have rather 
 anticipated. 
 
 The tale that Lady Alberton had to tell of her morning’s 
 visit, Avas of a far more sombre character; for the release 
 
814 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHEll. 
 
 of poor Loiiison from her earthly woes, melancholy as 
 h.ad been the circumstances attending it, could scarcely 
 be considered an affliction, even by her best friends. 
 
 Mrs. Lazenb}^ had, it appeared, at first refused to see 
 Lady Alberton and her aunt ; but, at the moment the 
 carriage was turning from the door, a servant had hastily 
 appeared to beg they would alight. 
 
 In a few minutes, Fanny alone was requested to walk 
 up stairs, Mrs. Lazenby’s maid apologising to Miss 
 Rachel for not asking her also, her mistress being, she 
 said, so dreadfully ill, that she could not bear more than 
 one pel son at a time. 
 
 Mrs. Lazenby was, indeed, apparently dying, and, to 
 Fanny^s great horror and affliction, she was compelled 
 to listen to the self-reproach and remorse which now 
 haunted her with frightful violence, and was so strangely 
 and incoherently mingled with torrents of execration on 
 her barbarous and unnatural daughter, as she called her, 
 and imprecations of vengeance on the head of her seducer, 
 that Fanny began to think that her mind was completely 
 deranged, and to repent that she had so officiously in- 
 truded her services ; but she was soon convinced that 
 Mrs. Lazenby, though she expressed herself with a vehe- 
 mence so inconsistent with her situation, was perfectly 
 conscious of it, and perfectly aware of what she uttered. 
 
 Having sent away her attendants, she drew Fanny 
 close to her, and putting into her hand a small key, point- 
 ed to a cabinet which stood opposite. 
 
 “In that cabinet, Fanny,” she observed, “you will 
 find a paper, which is of the utmost consequence to you 
 — I did not intend that you should have it till after my 
 death, but I did not then think that you would forgive 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEIl. 
 
 815 
 
 me, so far as to come to comfort me. I have behaved 
 cruelly to you, Fanny — and all, too, for the sake of one 
 who has deserted me — but I will not shock you again, 
 I will not curse her with my dying breath, but I will 
 pray that she may live to feel tlie bitterness of being 
 deserted in her last hours, even by those for whom she 
 has periled her soul.” 
 
 Fanny was, during this speech, employed in searching 
 the cabinet to which the invalid had pointed, hut it was 
 rather in obedience to the wish of Mrs. Lazenby, than 
 any anticipation of the value and importance of the object 
 of her search. 
 
 “ That is it, Fanny,” exclaimed the latter, her keen eye, 
 even at that distance, instantly recognising the important 
 paper which she saw. 
 
 It was a parchment deed of which she spoke, and a 
 single glance told Fanny at once what was its purport. 
 She beheld her fathers signature, in his own well-known 
 hand, and tears filled her eyes as she hastily folded it 
 without farther examination. 
 
 “ You are aware,” said the humiliated Mrs. Lazenby, 
 in a low tone, “ that it is the will, which was supposed to 
 be destroyed, or rather, it is the copy of that will. With 
 the caution which distinguished most of his conduct, your 
 father had left a copy in his escritoire at the Hall, at the 
 time he left it to go to France. The wily lawyer was 
 well aware of this, but he suppressed his knowledge to 
 you and your aunt, determined to sound me, and see if 
 he could make any advantage of it. I need not say, 
 Fanny, that I fell into his snare — I purchased his silence, 
 
 and but I cannot pursue this degrading detail. You 
 
 have the will, Fanny, and may you be as happy in the 
 
81G 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 possession of the wealth, that will now be 5 ^ 0 urs, as I 
 hope and trust she will be miserable and wretched, for 
 whom ” 
 
 Oh, do not be thus unforgiving,” interrupted Fanny, 
 who was shocked at the bitterness with which this un- 
 happy woman spoke of her daughter’s offences towards 
 her, while she seemed to pass over, as comparatively light 
 and venial, her own unprincipled offences, and to con- 
 sider herself, indeed, almost praiseworthy, because it h.ad 
 been her love, as she said, for her daughter, and not any 
 selfish motive, that had actuated her to act so basely and 
 dishonestly. 
 
 The kind and well-meant reproof, however, which 
 Lady Alberton intended to repress that harsh and mis- 
 taken feeling towards her erring daughter, had quite a 
 different effect on Mrs. Lazenby. The attempt to sof- 
 ten Emma’s conduct towards her, and suggest to her the 
 truth that the errors of the latter were in a great measure 
 attributable to the false system which she (Mrs. Lazenby) 
 had all her life pursued, threw the latter into agonies of 
 passion, and she loaded her absent daughter with curses 
 and invectives, which sounded so horrible and unnatural 
 in Fanny’s gentle ears, that she was compelled abruptly to 
 leave her. 
 
 In a few days after this important disclosure, Mrs. 
 Lazenby died, having, even till her last moments, preserved 
 the same implacable feeling towards her guilty daughter — 
 a feeling of which she left a lasting record, in bequeath- 
 ing all her fortune to distant relations, excepting only an 
 annuity of one hundred pounds a year to her daughter 
 Emma, being, as she observed, intended only to keep her 
 from want, whenever her seducer deserted her — an event 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 srr 
 
 wliicli slie confidently predicted would take place, at no 
 great distance ; and, as if to add to the galling mortification 
 of this bequest, I ord Alberton was, without his know- 
 ledge, appointed her trustee, and directed to pay it only 
 to Iierself, in quarterly payments. 
 
 It was long, however, before he was called upon to 
 fulfil these directions ; Madame St. George had quitted, 
 the neighbourhood of Levison Hall, and though a sigh 
 would sometimes heave Fanny’s compassionate bosom, 
 when she thought of the fallen and consequc i' ; v. retched 
 Emma, all other trace of her was buried in oblivion until 
 nearly five years after the happy period which had united 
 the fate of Alberton and his beloved, when they received 
 a visit from Rosa Somerville, who, however, had long 
 before exchang'ed her name for that of Irwin, and had 
 found, in the reclaimed Edward, if not precisely a Lord 
 Alberton, a very successful imitator of his virtues. 
 
 Lady Albertou was at this time the mother of two 
 beautiful boys, her friend Rosa had one girl; and never, 
 perhaps, were a happier family circle collected, than that 
 which, at the period we are speaking of, assembled 
 round the hospitable fireside of Levison Hall, which 
 Fanny and Lord Alberton now inhabited, having disposed 
 of their other estate in the neighbourhood. 
 
 ' It was Christmas — the weather was even more than 
 usually severe — for snow had fallen so thickly, for several 
 days, that the roads were nearly impassable ; but neither 
 the inhabitants of Levison Hall, or the neighbourhood, 
 for some miles around, felt much the inclemency of the 
 season. 
 
 Within the Hall, mirth and festivity occupied every 
 hour, and the bounteous liberality of Alberton and his 
 lovely wife had been so judiciously exercised, that there 
 
 5 M 
 
818 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 was not a cottage within their reach, in which plenty, 
 and, as far' as their influence and example could procure 
 it, peace and harmony also, did not reign. 
 
 It had been always Mr. Levison’s custom, at this joyous 
 season, to entertain the whole of his tenants and their 
 families with a dinner in the great hall, and the evening 
 was concluded with a dance, in which all of the family, 
 who had, as he was used to say, in old Capulet’s phrase, 
 “ feet unplagued with corns,” were accustomed to join; 
 and with Fanny it was a point of sacred duty to honour 
 the memory of her father, by diligently following his 
 example. 
 
 On this occasion there was perhaps even a more 
 numerous assembly collected than at any previous period 
 — for, in addition to the usual inhabitants of the Hall, 
 among whom were the kind-hearted and still active and 
 happy aunt Rachel and Earl Raeburn, who, sick of the 
 gay and great, seldom left his son and daughter, there 
 were several visiters, including, as we have already noticed, 
 Edmund Irwin and his beautiful Rosa. 
 
 Every window” of the ancient Hall was streaming with 
 light, as if to mock the deep darkness of the starless night, 
 while the loud and joyous sounds of music, and the merry 
 hum of mirthful steps and voices, rendered the howling 
 of the storm that raged without, inaudible to its happy 
 inmates. It was at this moment that the bell at the outer 
 door was rung with a violence which occasioned some 
 surprise to the jovial party, and occasioned Lord Alber- 
 ton, who was just leading off the dance with the blooming 
 daughter of one of his tenants, to pause suddenly and 
 consign her to another partner, while he inquired who it 
 was that had arrived at such an unseasonable hour. 
 
 It was the driver of a post-chaise from the nearest 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 819 
 
 town, which was nearly ten miles from the Hall ; and 
 Lord Alherton speedily learned that he had been em- 
 ployed to convey a lady and an infant (who had arrived 
 at the Inn only a few hours before by the mail from 
 London) to the Hall; hut that the heavy snow had 
 somewhat impeded his progress, that he had been be- 
 nighted, had driven out of the road, and, finally, the 
 chaise had been upset, and his unfortunate passenger was 
 so seriously hurt, that he had been compelled to leave 
 her in the broken carriage, about four miles oif, and 
 make his way with the horses, to the Hall, the lights of 
 which fortunately guided him. 
 
 Lord Alberton scarcely waited to hear the conclusion 
 of this tale, before he commenced preparations to hasten 
 to the stranger’s assistance. His light shoes were hastily 
 exchanged for boots — a cloak was thrown over his dress 
 — and, accompanied by at least a dozen sturdy rustics, who 
 were too m.uch exhilarated by their good cheer to heed 
 the weather, he set out for the spot, Avhich the half- 
 frozen driver had pointed out, leaving the latter to recruit 
 himself by a warm fire, and answer the questions, which 
 poured in upon him, as to the lady — of whom, however, 
 he could give but little farther account than he had done, 
 except that she seemed very ill, and very melancholy ; 
 and when the master of the Inn had suggested that it was 
 overlate to proceed on her journey, and recommended 
 her to remain there till the morning, she replied that her 
 business at the Hall was of too much consequence to be 
 delayed even for an hour. 
 
 It cannot be supposed that Lord Alberton was wholly 
 destitute of curiosity, as to who this stranger could be, 
 though his humanity prompted him to fly instantly to her 
 
THE GlfSY MOTHEll, 
 
 9S() 
 
 relief, without wishing to ask a single cjuestion. As he 
 hastily led the way, however, to the spot indicated, a 
 hundred conjectures arose in his mind, and were all as 
 quickly rejected as alike improbable. 
 
 They had provided themselves with torches, and some 
 of the men carried a large chair fitted to long poles, 
 which had formerly been made for Mr. Levison, at the 
 time he was incapacitated by the gout for walking, and 
 wished to be carried out into his garden, or among his 
 agricultural labourers, whom he was fond of surveying. 
 This vehicle was now well provided with blankets to 
 enwrap the traveller ; and fortunate it was that they had 
 been so provident, for when they at length discovered the 
 broken remains of the chaise, which was nearly dashed 
 to pieces, she was, with her child, nearly buried under 
 the heavy snow, and completely insensible. The brandy 
 with which one of the farmers had thoughtfully provided 
 himself, for the use of the party, was now of signal ser- 
 vice. A small quantity being poured into her mouth, 
 and her hands well rubbed with it, produced symptoms 
 of returning life ; and she soon became capable of sup- 
 porting herself in the chair, to which she was removed, 
 well wrapped up. One of the farmers folded the 
 infant, which appeared only a few months old, in his 
 large rug coat ; and they hastily retraced their steps to 
 the Hall, Lord Alberton walking by the side of, and 
 supporting the invalid, who had not spoken, but moaned 
 deeply, as if in great pain. 
 
 A loud cry from the infant, which, revived by the 
 genial warmth which it imbibed from the farmer’s close 
 embrace, now began to feel the want of its necessary sup- 
 port, appeared to arouse the suffering mother. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 82 i 
 
 ‘‘Givelier to me! Oh, my poor — poor cliild !” she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 Alberton started — the voice was well known to him, 
 yet when or where he had heard it, he could not con- 
 jecture. They were now within a few minutes’ walk of 
 the Hall, and in gentle accents he entreated the stranger 
 to be patient a few moments longer. 
 
 A low shriek answered him — ‘‘ Denzil — oh, Denzil ! 
 Can it be possible that I have been saved by you ?” ex- 
 claimed the stranger. 
 
 Alberton no longer doubted — it was, indeed, the 
 wretched, guilty Emma ; and, having hastily uttered a 
 few words of consolation to her, he flew before the rest 
 of the party, to prepare his beloved Fanny for the recep- 
 tion of her who would be to her like one risen from the 
 grave, so little probability had there appeared, for some 
 years, that they should ever see or hear from the mis- 
 guided woman, who seemed to have totally lost all re- 
 membrance of her home or her connexions. 
 
 The sounds of mirth had ceased, when he re-entered 
 the house — for all partook, or appeared to partake, of 
 the anxiety which kept Lady Alberton pale and silent, 
 listening with a throbbing heart, and gazing with earnest 
 eye, through the half-opened door, which, cold as it was, 
 seldom remained closed many minutes, so anxious were 
 all to get some information of the absent party. 
 
 The flash of their torches was at last seen reflected on 
 the snow-clad trees — the door was thrown open to its 
 fullest width, and groups of curious and expectant faces 
 collected close to it, in spite of the piercing northern 
 blast, and the snow which drifted in upon them. 
 
 Here is my lord i” exclaimed one, as Alberton, 
 
822 
 
 THE airSY MOTHER. 
 
 throwing his torch away, and shaking the snow from his 
 cloak, hastily entered the vestibule. 
 
 Lady Alberton rushed towards him — but, at the sight 
 of his pale and hurried look, she started back. 
 
 You were too late, then — the poor creature ” 
 
 “ No, not so, my love !” he interrupted. She is safe, 
 and will be here in a few minutes; but you must retire, 
 dearest — I have something to communicate,” and he led 
 her, as he spoke, towards the dra\ying-room, just as the 
 party, who were still anxiously looking out, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 “ Oh, here they come ! — here they all are !” 
 
 “ Rosa ! Mrs. Irwin !” exclaimed Lord Alberton, re- 
 collecting that it was equally necessary to prepare her 
 for the meeting with Emma. ‘‘ Rosa !” he again called, 
 but Rosa was deaf to his call — for, with her shawl thrown 
 over her head, she was peering out into the darkness, to 
 reconnoitre the party, whose approach had been an- 
 nounced. Divided between the two objects, Alberton 
 failed in both — for his agitated manner effectually de- 
 feated his intention to prepare his lady by degrees for the 
 melancholy surprise which awaited her. 
 
 ‘‘Alberton, what has happened?” she exclaimed, “for 
 Heaven’s sake, keep me not in suspense ! Who is it, that I 
 may ” 
 
 A faint scream from Mrs. Irwin reached her at this 
 moment. 
 
 “ Good Heaven, what is this? The consequences of 
 alarm may be fatal, in Rosa’s situation,” she added; and, 
 before Lord Alberton could utter a word, she flew back 
 to the assistance of her friend. 
 
 “ Fanny, I am come to die in your arms !” exclaimed 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 823 
 
 the poor siifterer, fixing her holloAv eyes on those of 
 Lady Alberton, as the latter hesitatingly advanced to- 
 wards her. Fanny uttered an exclamation of mingled 
 hope, doubt, and alarm, and the next moment Emma 
 was strained to her pure and gentle bosom — her follies, 
 her errors, her crimes, all forgotten in the sufferings, 
 which were but too plainly depicted in her care-worn 
 frame and pallid countenance. 
 
 “And Rosa, too,” said the poor sufferer, raising her 
 head from Fanny’s neck, where she had wept in silence 
 for some minutes — “ Rosa, too, has a kind look and a 
 kind word for the poor, miserable wretch, who is con- 
 scious she deserves nothing but reproach and contempt?” 
 
 Rosa pressed the hand she was still holding 
 
 “ Do not talk so, Emma; all that is past, is forgotten 
 —and ^mu will henceforth be all your friends can wish.” 
 
 “-You are right, Rosa,” she replied, with emphasis, 
 “ I shall be in my grave — and that is all my friends can 
 wish for me! Fanny, they told me that my mother’s 
 
 dying curse was upon me 1 have felt it was, but it 
 
 cannot pursue me here ! Oh, no — ^liere I am safe, and 
 my poor child, too, my poor babe !” 
 
 Fanny started, and looked round for the infant, but 
 Jeannette had already carried it off to the nursery ; and 
 there, when she had seen the unfortunate mother placed 
 in bed, and ascertained that she had received no material 
 injury from the accident, though sadly bruised. Lady Al- 
 berton beheld and wept over the poor infant, who was, 
 she saw, destined to be soon left motherless. 
 
 The child seemed to have sustained little injury from 
 its exposure to the cold, and had been equally fortunate 
 in escaping unhurt by the overturned vehicle; but it 
 
824 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER 
 
 was a sickly, weakly infant — and Jeannette, as she, after 
 carefully feeding and warming it, proceeded to undress 
 it, exclaimed 
 
 ‘‘ Ah, poor baby, it is well for you that you are come to 
 have good nursing — for your poor mamma does not look 
 as if she will be here long, to take care of you !” 
 
 “ Have you any idea who the parents of that child are, 
 Jeannette?” demanded Lady Alberton, looking stead- 
 fastly at her. 
 
 Jeannette looked surprised, as she replied in the nega- 
 tive — but the next moment it seemed all to rush into her 
 mind, and, half pushing the child from her, she ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 ‘‘ lEih^ mon dieu ! est il possible ! Oh, ma pauvre sceur, 
 ma pauvre Louison ! He is dead, then ?” she observed, 
 looking in Lady Albertoif s face. 
 
 I do not know that, Jeannette — it does not follow, 
 because we see this unfortunate babe here, and its still 
 more unfortunate mother.” 
 
 Oh, non 'est vrai, it is true, indeed — he has, perhaps, 
 deserted her, as he did ” 
 
 Jeannette burst into tears, as the recollection of her 
 poor Louison, and all the events connected with her 
 fate, rushed into her mind. . 
 
 ‘‘ Madame St. George is dead, this long time !” she 
 observed. 
 
 Lady Alberton was surprised. 
 
 How did you hear it, Jeannette?” she demanded. 
 
 “ Pierre, Mr. Irwin’s valet, told me,” she replied, 
 his brother was servant to Madame, and she died in 
 Paris two years since.” 
 
Tliii GIPSY MOTHEU; 
 
 All that care, and tenderness, and skill could devise, to 
 soothe and comfort Emma, was diligently employed by 
 the kind friends with whom she was surrounded; but it 
 was impossible to arrest the progress of the fatal disease 
 which had seized upon her for its prey ; and, in a very 
 few days after her arrival at Levison Hall, those who 
 were so deeply interested in her welfare became convin- 
 ced that she was in a confirmed consumption, and fast 
 sinking to an early grave. But, though she had at 
 first expressed her own conviction that her case was 
 hopeless, the change — from unfriended misery, reduced 
 to nearly her last shilling, and burthened with a helpless 
 infant — to ease and affluence, and constant attention and 
 tenderness, had operated so forcibly on her naturally 
 cheerful disposition, that she seemed to forget all the past, 
 and indulge the most extravagant hopes for the future. 
 
 By degrees Lady Alberton heard from her own lips 
 the detail of her adventures, after she had quitted Levison 
 Hall. 
 
 Emma’s seducer had, it appeared, acted in one respect 
 more honorably than she probably had a right to expect — 
 he had married her immediately after the death of his 
 wife, who, having learned that he had, after making the 
 tour of the Continent, finally settled in Paris, suddenly 
 made her appearance there ; and, in a fit of reviling and 
 passion, had broken a blood vessel, from the effects of 
 which she had died. But, though St. George had so far 
 fulfilled his promises to the credulous Emma, he had, in 
 other respects, fallen greatly short of them ; and, far 
 from enjoying that life of pleasure and liberty he had 
 painted in such glov/ing colours, she soon found that she 
 had bound herself to a life of slavery and miserable de- 
 
826 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 pendance on the capricious humours of that most uncer- 
 tain, and least to be depended on of all human beings — a 
 gambler ! 
 
 Constant ill-health, and the birth of four children, all 
 of whom (except the last) died soon after they beheld 
 the light; the severe pressure of poverty, at times, which 
 was poorly compensated by superfluity at others, when 
 fortune had been more favorable to her husband, all 
 combined to break down the frame and the spirits of the 
 unhappy Emma. The circumstances connected with her 
 mother’s death, too, had been conveyed to her, with all 
 the exaggerations with which ignorant minds delight to 
 paint events, of themselves sufficiently horrible. She 
 fancied her mother’s dying curse was always ringing in 
 her ear — her children’s deaths recalled, with horrid force, 
 that of her flrst-born, which she had left to perish, un- 
 wept by a mother’s care ! The man who had tempted 
 her to this unnatural conduct became hateful to her. 
 Their reproaches were mutual, and they dragged on a 
 wretched life, until a fever, brought on by excess, and 
 aggravated by the prospect which awaited him of a prison, 
 put an end to St, George’s existence, and left her sick, 
 helpless, and a widow, with an infimt only three weeks 
 old, in a strange land. 
 
 Left thus hopeless and destitute, her heart had turned 
 with deep yearning to the scenes and the friends of her 
 youth. To die in their bosom, to be laid in the same 
 grave with her mother, and to leave her child to their 
 care and tenderness, became her darling project; but it 
 was not without difficulty she accomplished her journey. 
 But, the haven gained, Emma’s hopes and spirits, though 
 not her health, revived. The affectionate kindness and 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 827 
 
 attention, so new to her — their forbearance on the subject 
 of her past follies — and the certainty that she would be 
 welcome to share with them the advantages of rank and 
 affluence — altered greatly her sentiments with regard to 
 dying; and she now as ardently wished to live, as she 
 had before prayed to leave a world of misery. But the 
 die was cast — the arrow had struck deep; and, within 
 one little month from her arrival at the Hall, Emma was 
 borne from it to her last earthly home. 
 
 From her first appearance, Lady Alberton and her 
 other friends had been prepared for this event — for death 
 had been marked, in legible characters, in her counte- 
 nance ; and it was to them a source of the greatest com- 
 fort that her last hours had been soothed by all the cares 
 that affection, and all the consolations that religion, can 
 bestow. Yet it was mournful to see one in the prime of 
 life — gifted naturally with a kind heart and good disposi- 
 tion — and the possessor of more than ordinary personal 
 attractions — thus sink a victim to her own folly, and the 
 errors of evil example ; and many and bitter were the 
 tears which Lady Alberton and her friend, Mrs. Irwin, 
 shed to her memory, ere time had softened it to a more 
 gentle remembrance. 
 
 The child, who promised to inherit all the personal 
 charms of her unfortunate mother, became the object of 
 peculiar care to Lady Alberton, after whom she was 
 named ; and who, having no daughters, soon learned to 
 consider the little Fanny as much her own as though she 
 had really given her birth. 
 
828 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Is lie a stranger ? 
 
 His voice and gestures seem familiar to me ; 
 
 I craved his name, but this he seemed reluctant 
 
 To trust. Byron. 
 
 Surrounded with all that could make life valuable, 
 and occupied unceasingly in the endeavour to communi- 
 cate to their less fortunate fellow-creatures some por- 
 tion of that happiness which had fallen to their own lot, 
 the life of Lord Alberton and his amiable partner passed 
 on for several years, uninterrupted by any event of suf- 
 ficient importance to disturb 
 
 “ The even tenor of ‘ their’ v/ay.” 
 
 The death of the Earl of Raeburn, though in some 
 measure prepared for it by a long and gradual decay of 
 the powers of nature, was for a time a source of deep 
 sorrow to them, not only for the loss of a kind, affec- 
 tionate, and considerate friend ; but that it revived, with 
 painful accuracy, recollections which time and new im- 
 pressions had softened and obscured. 
 
 Lady Alberton seemed again to lose the parent whom 
 she had never ceased to regret ; while her lord, in fol- 
 lowing to their last resting-place the remains of his 
 lamented father, seemed again to live over those days of 
 suffering and sorrow, which he had shared with his 
 unfortunate mother. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTH11.H. 
 
 829 
 
 The death of the Earl rendered it necessary that his son 
 should, for some time, remain in the metropolis, which 
 he had, for the last five or six years, only occasionally 
 visited; and, unwilling to leave his beloved Fanny to 
 brood over the melancholy which had taken possession 
 of her mind, his lordship at length came to the resolu- 
 tion of taking’ his family with him, for the first time, to 
 town; where, indeed, he found it would be absolutely 
 necessary that he should henceforth reside for part of the 
 year, being now called upon to assume his father’s title 
 and situation in the world. 
 
 For the first time. Lady Raeburn now threw open 
 her doors to the gay and fashionable world ; but, while 
 she thus yielded the privacy, in which she had so long 
 found her happiness, to the usages of society, she men- 
 tally resolved that neither the blandishments of pleasure, 
 nor the seductions of fashion, should withdra^v her, more 
 than she could possibly avoid, from her children, to 
 whom she was ever the most revered instructor, the 
 most confidential friend, and the most welcome and 
 valued companion. 
 
 In compliance with this resolution, in all her walks 
 and rides, and indeed on every occasion where they 
 could be introduced without impropriety or injury to 
 their simple and unsophisticated manners, the young Lord 
 R^aeburn, his brothers Frederic and Charles, and their 
 sister Fanny (as they were taught to call her) were the 
 constant companions of their still-beautiful mother. 
 
 On one of these occasions, they had left the carriage, 
 to walk through Hyde Park, having ordered it to meet 
 them at Kensington Gate. With her two elder boys, 
 one on each side of her, and preceded by Fanny and the 
 
830 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 youngest, iTady Albertoii walked cheerfully and fear- 
 lessly along, talking, laughing, and occasionally seriously 
 joining in the wishes the boys expressed, that the time 
 were arrived which would restore them to the uncon- 
 strained enjoyments of the country, for which they con- 
 sidered the present scene but a poor substitute. 
 
 They had proceeded about half way through the park, 
 when a man, whose appearance bespoke the most abject 
 poverty, and whose pallid and haggard countenance be- 
 trayed the ravages of disease rather than time, slowly 
 approached them, apparently with the intention of soli- 
 citing alms. 
 
 “ Poor man! how ill he looks !” said one of the boys, 
 hastily putting his hand in his pocket; while Lady Rae- 
 burn herself made a similar movement, to relieve the 
 object of their pity; but, to her extreme surprise and 
 that of the boys, after a hasty glance at the party, the 
 supposed mendicant turned abruptly away, as if to avoid 
 them, and continued his walk. 
 
 The children, in the mean time, had been busily con- 
 tributing their silver to make up a sum sufficient to 
 satisfy their benevolent purposes, and they now turned 
 eagerly to their mother for her contribution. 
 
 “ I would willingly give it, my dear children,” said 
 she, “for, certainly, the poor creature looks as if he 
 sadly needs assistance — but he seems rather to wish to 
 avoid us, than ” 
 
 “ Oh, give it me, mamma,” exclaimed the eldest boy; 
 “ poor creature, he has not been used to beg, I dare say; 
 but I will give it him, so that he cannot be hurt.” And, 
 catching the money from his mother’s half-doubtful hand, 
 he flew away after the object of his compassion, who was 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 831 
 
 now at some distance, having quickened his pace more 
 than could have been expected from his emaciated ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 “Do not look back, my dears,” said Lady Raeburn, 
 walking slowly on ; “ it will perhaps give pain to this 
 poor man, to see that he is the object of curiosity. Your 
 brother will soon rejoin us, and then we shall hear how 
 he has succeeded in his errand.” 
 
 Contrary, however, to her ladyship’s prediction, a 
 considerable period elapsed, and still the young Lord 
 Alberton did not return. 
 
 “ He is still talking with the poor man, mamma,” said 
 Fanny, whose impatience could no longer be kept in 
 check, and whose quick eye had, in spite of Lady Rae- 
 burn’s interdiction, more than once glanced back towards 
 the object of her anxiety. 
 
 “Well, then, we will hero await his joining us,” re- 
 turned Lady Raeburn, advancing to one of the seats. 
 At this moment a horse, which had taken fright, and 
 thrown his rider, was seen galloping wildly and furiously 
 tov/ards the spot where they stood ; and the few passen- 
 gers who were near them, fled in every direction. 
 
 The terrified mother hastily drew the children close to 
 lier, and uttered a fervent prayer for their safet}^, and 
 the frighted animal bounded past them at only a few 
 paces distance ; but scarcely had she breathed, scarcely 
 felt the consciousness that the danger was past, before a 
 frenzied scream from her darling Fanny, who, scarcely 
 thinking of herself, had still kept her eyes fixed on her 
 favorite brother, (as she called Lord Alberton) betrayed 
 to the distracted mother the danger of her child. She 
 saw him start forward — heedless of his own danger — his 
 
m 
 
 tHE GIPSY MOTHEK. 
 
 eyes fixed on, and his arms stretched towards his mother, 
 
 whose peril he had seen The next moment he was 
 
 senseless and bleeding- on the ground, and his unhappy 
 mother, regardless of the shrieks and terrors of her other 
 children, flew forward, and fell fainting beside him. 
 
 When Lady Raeburn recovered her recollection, she 
 was in her own carriage, supported in the arms of her 
 friend Rosa (Mrs. Irwin), and little Fanny holding her 
 hand, and weeping over her. For some minutes she 
 gazed wildly around, unable to recal to her recollection 
 what had happened ; but the terrified and sorrowful ex- 
 pression of Fanny’s features, seemed suddenly to bring to 
 her mind the fatal truth, and with frantic cries she 
 demanded her child. 
 
 “ They are all safe, dear Fanny — compose yourself, 
 pray do; for the sake of your children, your husband, 
 exert yourself to conquer these wild feelings,” said Mrs. 
 Irwin. 
 
 “ For the sake of my children, Rosa,” repeated Lady 
 Raeburn, emphatically. “ Have I any children ?” 
 
 “ Oh, yes, dear, dear mamma, I am here !” exclaimed 
 little Fanny, clinging still closer to her. 
 
 And your brothers, Fanny — where are they ?” ex- 
 claimed the distracted mother. 
 
 The child looked at Mrs. Irwin, as if at a loss what to 
 say — and Lady Raeburn, clasping her hands in agony, 
 added — “ Oh yes, yes, it is so — I see it all — both, both 
 my darlings, at one blow!” 
 
 “No, no, indeed it is not so, mamma — Frederic is 
 well — quite well — but he would not leave his brother — 
 they tried to take him away from him ” 
 
 “ Listen to me calmly, Fanny,” said Mrs. Irwin, “and 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHEPt 
 
 833 
 
 I will not deceive you. One of your children is unhurt 
 — the other has received some injury; hut I trust — I 
 
 hope ” She J^urst into tears, and Lady Raeburn, in 
 
 a voice of more composure, said 
 
 ‘‘ I understand you, Rosa — he is dead !” 
 
 ‘^No, on my sacred word, he was not, when I saw 
 him taken away to receive medical assistance. On the 
 contrary, he was perfectly sensible, and called to me to 
 take care of his mother.” 
 
 Lady Alberton burst into tears — They were the first 
 she had shed, and their effects were most refreshing' to 
 her agonised heart. In a short time, she was sufficiently 
 recovered for Mrs. Irwin to give directions to the coach- 
 man to drive slowly on to the surgeon’s, whither the 
 wounded child had been taken; but before they arrived 
 there, he had been removed to his own residence, and 
 the surgeon had accompanied him. 
 
 To Lady Raeburn’s agitated inquiries, assurances were 
 positively returned that the young gentleman was not 
 seriously hurt, and that she would find her other son 
 safe at home with him. 
 
 “ Let us go, then, instantly,” said the anxious mother, 
 turning back to the carriage — for, too impatient to wait, 
 she had sprung out of it the moment it had stopped, 
 under the expectation of beholding her ch?^^ 
 
 There were several people, whom curiosity or perhaps 
 some better feeling had detained, lingering around the 
 surgeon’s door; but Lady Raeburn passed througli 
 them, without being conscious that she was the object of 
 universal observation. 
 
 As the carriage-door was being closed by the servant, 
 however, she heard a man exclaim — 
 
 do 
 
834 . 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 ‘‘ Yes, yes, tliat’s the mother — but though it is all very 
 natural that she should be anxious about her ehihl, one 
 would think she might bestow a little compassion upon 
 the poor fellow that got so cruelly hurt in trying to save 
 it. But he’s taken olF to the Hospital, and there, I sup- 
 pose, he may lie and die, because he’s a poor man !” 
 
 “ Who are you speaking of?” demanded Lady Rae- 
 burn, beckoning the man to the carriage-window. 
 
 « Why, my lady, the poor man that tried to save the 
 young gentleman was cruelly hurt,” he replied; “and I 
 think it but right you should be told of it — for, though 
 he’s but a poor man, my lady, his life is as valuable, may 
 be, to his wife and children, if he’s got any ” 
 
 “You are quite right, my good friend,” replied Lady 
 Raeburn, “ and if you will go with my servant to the 
 place you mention, you shall have the satisfaction of see- 
 ing that all that can be done to assist him, and reward 
 his humanity, shall be done.” 
 
 The man looked abashed, and murmured some excuses 
 for having spoken so freely — and Lady Raeburn having 
 given her purse to the footman, with instructions to ap- 
 ply it for the use of the poor man, and to assure him that 
 Lord Raeburn himself would see him in a short time — 
 if, as she earnestly hoped, he would be able to see his 
 lordship — drove off, followed by the blessings and good 
 wishes for her child’s recovery of all who beheld her. 
 
 At the house-door she was met by Lord Raeburn, 
 whose looks, though pale and agitated, spoke comfort to 
 her, 
 
 “ He is seriously, but not dangerously hurt, my love,” 
 he replied, in answer to her rapid inquiries; “but he 
 bears it like a little hero — and is more anxious on your 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 835 
 
 account than his own. Summon, therefore, all your 
 fortitude, and let him see that you are recovered — for 
 though I was aware, from Mrs. Irwin’s account, that 
 you had only fainted, nothing that I coukl say could con- 
 vince him that you were not dead.” 
 
 In .a few minutes Lady Raeburn was by the bed-side 
 of the sufferer, who, she found, had received no other 
 injury than a fractured arm, and some few bruises. 
 
 ‘‘ But I should have been killed,” he exclaimed, but 
 for the poor man, who threw himself over me— for the 
 vicious animal made a second plunge, and the poor man 
 received all the ” 
 
 “Tell me, my love,” interrupted Lord Raeburn, ad- 
 dressing his wife, “ was the poor creature, whose hu- 
 manity saved our child’s life, properly attended to?” 
 
 Lady Raeburn replied by relating what had passed 
 at the surgeon’s door; and the Earl, having com- 
 mended what she had done, proceeded to quiet the ani- 
 mated regrets of his son, by assuring him that, if the ob- 
 ject of his anxiety was not fatally injured, his benevolent 
 action shouid be rewarded, to the utmost of his own 
 wishes. 
 
 “ And if it should unfortunately prove that he is be- 
 yond our power to reward,” concluded his lordship, “ it 
 will be our satisfaction to reflect that this last disinte- 
 rested action of his life, will entitle him to a reward far 
 greater and more durable than it is in our power to 
 bestow.” 
 
 It was not until now, in consequence of some remark 
 of Frederic, who still stood by his brother, never having 
 quitted him from the moment of the accident, that Lady 
 Raeburn learned that the person, who was now the object 
 
^36 
 
 'rufc GII^SY MOTllETt. 
 
 of so much ailxiety and commiseration, was the identical 
 mendicant whose apparent misery had induced her son to 
 quit her side, and by his attempt to relieve him had be- 
 come exposed to the accident from which he was suffer- 
 ing'. But if this increased the gratitude and compassion 
 she felt towards him, how much more did it excite the 
 interest both of her and Lord Raeburn, when they heard, 
 from the same source, that the poor creature had de- 
 clared he should die happy, in having saved the child of 
 one to whom he had been deeply indebted, and whom 
 he had deeply injured. 
 
 The surprise of both the Earl and Countess was ex- 
 treme at this disclosure ; and it was not lessened, when, 
 on the return of the servant from St. George’s Hospital, 
 to which the sufferer had been conveyed, they learned 
 that the latter had at first shrunk with horror at the 
 thought of receiving a visit from Lord Raeburn, and had 
 positively refused to receive the money which the servant 
 was charged to deliver to him. 
 
 The assurances of the surgeons, however, that, fright- 
 ful and dangerous as were the wounds he had received, 
 there were yet strong hopes that they would not prove 
 fatal, seemed to effect a considerable change in the sen- 
 timents of the patient. 
 
 “I was in hopes,” he observed, ‘‘that my miseries 
 were drawing to a speedy close, and that the memory of 
 what I was, would die with me.” 
 
 The servant took advantage of this favourable moment 
 again to press his acceptance of the money that Lady Rae- 
 burn had sent, observing, that he would probably have a 
 long confinement, and that he would not find it very 
 pleasant without money. 
 
 ‘•I-., 
 
^’HE (iii\SY MOtHEU. 83t 
 
 “ You are right, young man,” he replied, even here, 
 in the abode of charity, money is the chief object.” 
 
 ‘‘ Besides,” said the servant, without replying to his 
 observation, but anxious only to discharge his errand in 
 a manner that he knew would be acceptable to his mis- 
 tress — “besides, though you may not want money here, 
 as indeed you won’t, seeing every thing is provided for 
 you much better, I dare say, than you’ve been used to — 
 yet perhaps you have got a wife or children— ” 
 
 The man impatiently interrupted him — “No, no, no — 
 I have no wife — no children — no one to care for me — 
 no one !” and he burst into a flood of passionate tears, 
 “ no one to lament me, or shed a tear upon my grave.” 
 
 “ I’m sure you need not say that, my good man,” said 
 the compassionate Ned, who, “albeit unused to the mel- 
 ting mood,” felt his own eyes brimfull with sympathy, 
 “for I’m sure my poor lady cried bitterly, when she 
 heard you were so seriously hurt.” 
 
 “ Did she ? Heaven bless her, and make her worthy 
 of the best of human beings !” exclaimed the poor man. 
 
 “ Well, come now,” rejoined the homely and plain- 
 speaking servant, “ I’m glad to see you are going to cheer 
 up a bit — and so I’ll leave you to the care of these good 
 people, who. I’m sure, will do the best they can for you 
 — and I’ll tell my lady, if you’ve no objection, that you 
 send your humble duty to her, and will be glad to see 
 my lord, whenever he likes to come.” 
 
 During this speech, the eyes of the sufferer had been 
 intently fixed on the face of the speaker. 
 
 “ You do not know me, then,” he at last observed, “ I 
 do not wonder at it — for, until this moment, I did not 
 remember you — though time has rather improved than 
 otlierwise that honest countenance, while misery and 
 
838 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 guilt has worn me to the bone ! I see you do not even 
 yet recognize me — and I am not sorry for it,” he con- 
 tinued. “ Should your master’s memory be equally 
 treacherous, it will spare me some mortification.” 
 
 In silent wonder, Ned had continued to scan features 
 which he in vain endeavoured to recal to his remem- 
 brance; but, in addition to the change which he had 
 himself spoken of, there was another circumstance, of 
 which the invalid did not seem to be aware, namely, that 
 one of the blows which he had received from the heels 
 of the horse, had so much swollen and discoloured his 
 face, that it scarcely appeared human. The long tangled 
 hair, too, that fell about his ears, and the unshaven grisly 
 beard, added to the wildness of his appearance, and con- 
 tinued to baffle all Ned’s attempts to discover, in the 
 wretched being before him, an old acquaintance, which 
 the man’s words led him to suppose he was. 
 
 ‘‘ One would think, if I could not remember his face, 
 I should have known his voice, my lord,” he observed, 
 when repeating the circumstances that had passed at this 
 interview ; “ but I did not — and, indeed, I don’t think, 
 in all my life, I ever heard such a hoarse hollow sound — 
 it sounded just as if it came out of a grave, and made me, 
 two or three times, quite shudder.” 
 
 It cannot but be supposed that this relation increased 
 tenfold the anxiety of the Earl to behold the man who 
 had thus powerfully excited Ned’s curiosity, as well as his 
 better feelings ; and, accordingly, the moment that the 
 object of his first anxiety — his boy — was pronounced to 
 be free from pain, and enjoying a refreshing sleep, he 
 left him to the care of his anxious mother, and proceeded 
 to the Hospital, attended by Ned. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 839 
 
 The man who was the object of his curiosity was sleep- 
 ing wlien he approached the bed on which he was laid, 
 and Lord Raeburn sat quietly down to await his awaken- 
 ing, having forbidden the nurse to disturb him. 
 
 During this period of suspense and expectation, a 
 thousand different conjectures, as to who this unhappy 
 being could be, passed through his mind ; but it was in 
 vain that, by the most careful examination of his features, 
 which were entirely exposed to view, he endeavoured 
 to draw a conclusion. 
 
 The sleep of the sufferer, which had at first appeared 
 quiet, became disturbed; and some words escaped his 
 lips, among which Lord Raeburn plainly distinguished 
 the name of Tyrrell” and “ Montgomery,” while a 
 pang’, occasioned apparently by recollections connected 
 with those names, convulsed his already disfigured fea- 
 tures into absolutely hideousness. 
 
 Lord Rvaeburn uttered an involuntary ejaculation, and 
 the man started, and opened his eyes full upon his 
 face. 
 
 “ You are come, then, to triumph in my wretcheidness, 
 Denzil ?” he exclaimed, in a hoarse voice. 
 
 “ Delaney !” exclaimed Lord Raeburn, in a tone of 
 mingled doubt and suspense. Can it, indeed, be him !” 
 
 “ Yes, that is the name I once bore,” he replied ; “but 
 you need not tell every one that the wretched Delaney is 
 dying in a prison — a felon, a convicted felon !” — he con- 
 tinued, muttering between his teeth, and then looking 
 wildly around to see if he was observed. 
 
 The Earl now discovered that the wretched man was 
 delirious, and in a soothing tone he observed 
 
 “You are ill, Delaney — your sound mind is disturbed 
 
840 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 by your bodily anguish ; but, be assured, you are with 
 those who will do all in their power to mitigate your 
 sufferings.” 
 
 Where am I, then ?” he again demanded, looking 
 inquiringly around, am I not in a prison ?” 
 
 ‘‘ No, no — you are with friends who will do all in 
 their power for you,” repeated Lord Raeburn. 
 
 By degrees the unhappy Delaney became composed, 
 and able to comprehend his situation, and the circum- 
 stances that brought him there; and the Earl listened, 
 with the deepest compassion and sympathy, to the ex- 
 pressions of mingled repentance and despair, which broke 
 involuntarily from his lips. 
 
 ’ All that humanity could suggest, did the latter adduce 
 to console the wretched Delaney, from whom he at 
 length learned the particulars of his history, from the 
 period when he had, in consequence of his crime against 
 the laws, been banished from his native country. Of 
 the conduct of his wife and family on that occasion, he 
 spoke in terms of the bitterest condemnation. 
 
 “ Even the children,” he observed, ‘‘for whose advance- 
 ment in life I had been incessantly occupied — for whom 
 I had planned, night and day, a thousand schemes — and 
 to support whom in luxury all my means, and all my 
 talents were employed — even they abandoned me ! My 
 son, who by my means had been enabled to marry a 
 woman of fortune, wrote to reproach me with having- 
 disgraced him, and compelled him to quit the country, 
 refusing me even the paltry trifle which I requested, to 
 lighten the miseries of my prison. My wife, my daugh- 
 ters, all — all abandoned me — and I was left to bear all 
 the horrors of my fate, without one single consolation. 
 
ThF. mother. 
 
 841 
 
 I saw even the lowest, the most abandoned of the 
 wretched beings with whom I was associated, soothed by 
 the tears and regrets of some to whom they were dear — 
 but I, I was alone in the world — no one mourned my 
 departure — no one attempted to lessen the horrors of my 
 imprisonment, or endeavour to conciliate my gaolers, and 
 induce them to regard me with favour! — I was left to 
 bear the full penalty of the crime, which I had princi- 
 pally been lod into by my over-anxiety for those who 
 now were foremost to desert me !” 
 
 “ And have you never seen any part of your family 
 since?” inquired Earl Raeburn, who at this moment re- 
 collected that Mrs. Wilmington, the ci-devant Julia De- 
 laney, lived within a few minutes’ walk from the place 
 which had given her father, in all probability, his last 
 asylum. 
 
 ‘‘ Chance,” he resumed, has at different times thrown 
 me in the way of all of them, except Julia, of whom I 
 have never learned any tidings. Some circumstances, 
 too long now to repeat, having recommended me to the 
 favour of the government, when only half the term for 
 which I was banished had expired, the remainder of my 
 sentence was remitted, and I was set at liberty. Had I 
 chosen to remain there, I might have again prospered — 
 but, though they had forgotten me, I could never cease 
 to remember that I had a wife and children. I had seen 
 the errors of my ways, and was determined to amend 
 them — and I longed to restore also to the right road, 
 those whom I felt my example had seduced into error. 
 
 “ Fortune seemed to favour my wishes—four years 
 after I had quitted it, a wretched, hopeless, heartless 
 being, I arrived again in ray native land — my health re- 
 
 5 V 
 
84.2 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 stored, my mind at ease, on my own account at least, 
 and possessed of a sum, which, though I should once 
 have thought it an insignificant trifle, being now the 
 earnings of honest industry, appeared of considerable im- 
 portance in my eyes. 
 
 “ It was with great difficulty I traced my wife — her 
 tale of the injuries she had endured from me, had an- 
 swered her purpose. She was living in comfort — in af- 
 fluence, compared to my situation, and she shrunk from 
 me as from a poisonous reptile. Her friends all took 
 her part — I was a monster, a wretch, devoid of every 
 feeling, to intrude myself upon her! But that which set- 
 tled the whole matter, and made me fly from her with 
 more real disgust than I could have believed it possible 
 I could feel, was the expression of her belief that I was 
 not legally discharged from the penalty I had incurred, 
 accompanied by the threat that she would give informa- 
 tion of my return to the proper authorities, if I per- 
 sisted in my claim upon her. 
 
 I have never seen her since — and, for my children, 
 my son has absolutely refused me even the means to pro- 
 cure a meal, when I was reduced to beg' it of him ! One 
 of my daughters I have lived to see reduced to as great 
 misery as myself — though, when I found her out, she 
 was living in a style which would not suffer her to ac- 
 knowledge her father 
 
 ‘‘Julia, then, you have never seen?” observed Lord 
 Raeburn. 
 
 “ No,” he replied. “ Heart-sick at the reception I met 
 with from my other children, I did not take any great 
 trouble to trace Julia — from whom, perhaps, I should 
 have only heard a repetition of those reproaches which 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 843 
 
 her sister loaded me with, when I last beheld her. Poor 
 girl, perhaps, after all, she was right — yet it was hard to 
 hear it from her, whose interest I beliered I was con- 
 sulting in what I did.” 
 
 The Earl interrupted the melancholy reverie into which 
 the unhappy man had fallen, entreating him to make his 
 mind easy, as in future he would take care to secure him 
 from a repetition of the misfortunes which had attended 
 him. 
 
 “ I will leave you now,” continued the Earl, “ to the 
 repose which, I trust, will restore you — and, to-morrow 
 morning, if you find yourself able to bear it, you shall be 
 removed from this place.” 
 
 Delaney pressed with warmth the EaiTs hand — but he 
 was too much agitated to speak, and the latter left him. 
 
 From the period when his interference had rescued 
 Julia from her wretched degradation, and enabled her by 
 liberal pecuniary assistance to adopt the plan she had 
 marked out for her future subsistence. Lord Raeburn 
 had never beheld her — but he had had the gratification 
 of knowing, from her repeated grateful communications, 
 that her endeavours had been crowned with success, and 
 that she was then mistress of a flourishing business, in 
 the neighbourhood of Piccadilly. 
 
 Without hesitation, therefore, he bent his steps thither, 
 and was received with every mark of respect and grati- 
 tude by Mrs. Wilmington, to whom, by degrees, he 
 revealed the situation of her father. 
 
 Little reason as she had to respect the parent to whose 
 pernicious counsels and example the errors of her former 
 life were undoubtedly to be attributed. Julia yet could 
 not hear of his lamentable state without a sorrow and 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 SU 
 
 emotion which rendered her far more amiable, in Lord 
 Raeburn’s eyes, than she had ever appeared before. She 
 declared her intention to go immediately to him, and also 
 to have him removed to her own house, v/here she could 
 pay him proper attention ; and the Earl, anxious to be 
 witness of an interview so interesting, as well as to afford 
 every assistance in his power, proposed instantly to return 
 with her to the Hospital. 
 
 The invalid was raised up in bed when they approached 
 him, and his eyes were instantly fixed on his daughter, 
 while an exclamation of surprise broke from his lips, 
 which was instantly succeeded by a burst of tears, that 
 proved, more incontrovertibly than words could have 
 done, the reality of those feelings which, contrasting them 
 with his former apparent insensibility, Earl Raeburn 
 might have supposed exaggerated. 
 
 Some minutes elapsed before his daughter could recog- 
 nize her unhappy relative in the object before her; but 
 she became at length convinced that it was indeed her 
 father, and was about to go round to the other side of 
 the bed, that she might be nearer to him, when a man 
 who appeared to be a patient, and who had been standing 
 opposite, with his eyes fixed on her and Earl Raeburn, 
 from the moment of their entrance, hastily approached, 
 and laying his hand on her arm, exclaimed — 
 
 “ Julia, we meet then again, once more in this world !” 
 
 “ Who are you ?” exclaimed Mrs. Wilmington, 
 starting back in alarm, and gazing at the pale emaciated 
 face which met her view. 
 
 “You do not know me ?” said the man, in a taunting, 
 contemptuous tone. “ I do not wonder at it ! with one 
 so every way preferable by your side,” (and he glanced 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 845 
 
 at Lord Raeburn,) “it is not likely you would wish to 
 acknowledge your wretched husband. Yes, you start, 
 Julia — but, though you may wish to avoid me, you cannot 
 deny that I have a husband’s right to claim you — nay, 
 and I will do so, in spite of your paramour there !” 
 again darting a fierce look at the Earl. 
 
 Good heavens ! this is, indeed, a strange fatality !” 
 exclaimed the latter; “but be assured, my friend, you 
 are under a delusion — for, until within this last hour, I 
 have not seen your wife for many years.” 
 
 ‘Gt is a lie! a false lie!” exclaimed the man, with 
 vehemence. “ Did I not myself behold you with her, 
 when I last tried to draw from her pity some assistance 
 to save me — but no matter, I have found her now, and 
 from me she shall never again escape alive !” 
 
 Before Lord Raeburn could utter another word, or 
 rescue the unfortunate Julia from his menaced blow, the 
 maniac-husband (for such it now appeared he was) rushed 
 upon her with a knife, which he had kept, from the first 
 moment of her appearance, concealed in his hand. 
 
 The Earl caught his arm, as it was a second time 
 raised ; but the first blow had been effectual — and when, 
 by the powerful exertion of the former, the murderer 
 was compelled to relinquish his hold, the unfortunate 
 woman fell, bleeding and senseless, on the foot of her 
 father’s bed. 
 
 All was now uproar and confusion — the maniac, with 
 all the desperate and almost supernatural strength of 
 frenzy, continued to struggle against the efforts of Lord 
 Raeburn, and those who had come to his assistance, to 
 prevent his doing further mischief. The agonised groans 
 of the unfortunate Julia, and the shrieks of her father, 
 
846 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 who thus beheld his last hope and tie in this world torn 
 violently from him, at the very moment when he had 
 learned to value it, and to feel that life still had some- 
 thing left to render it valuable — altogether presented a 
 most appalling spectacle. 
 
 The sturdy strength of Ned, however, who was wait- 
 ing in the Hall for his master’s return, and to whom it 
 had down like lightning, that that beloved master was in 
 danger, decided the contest. The wretched maniac was 
 secured and strapped down to his bed, from which, it ap- 
 peared, he had only been released a few hours, having 
 been previously attacked with similar paroxysms of frenzy. 
 
 The situation of the wounded woman now became the 
 object of Lord Raeburn’s care — but he was soon con- 
 vinced that the blow would prove fatal. She was raised 
 up — and the expression of her eyes, as she turned them 
 alternately from him to her father, shewed that she still 
 retained her senses and recollection, though she was 
 unable otherwise to give utterance to her wishes. 
 
 Delaney was in agonies — he uttered a thousand self- 
 reproaches, as he gazed upon the dying countenance of 
 his hapless daughter ; and then transferred his maledic- 
 tions from himself to the maniac husband, who, however, 
 seemed now totally unconscious of the part he had acted 
 in the fatal traged}^, and continued to rave incoherently, 
 without noticing or replying to the reproaches which 
 were bestowed upon him. 
 
 In less than one hour from her entrance into the pre- 
 sence of her father, the once gay and beautiful Julia was 
 taken from his sight, a lifeless corpse ! Yet, shocked and 
 v\ ounded as he was by this awful termination of her life, 
 Delaney declared himself happier than he was while he 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 847 
 
 was in ignorance of her fate, and believing that she was 
 experiencing all the horrors of guilt and destitution. 
 
 Before her remains were committed to the earth, the 
 death of her wretched husband, who never recovered his 
 senses sufficiently to be conscious of the crimes he had 
 committed, relieved those who were interested from all 
 further concern on his account. Delaney, as soon as he 
 could with safety be removed, was, by the Earl’s care, 
 placed in comfort and respectability; and, during the few 
 years of life that remained to him, continued to deserve 
 the favour that was shown to him. With the sons of 
 his benefactor he became an especial favourite, and one 
 from whom they never parted, when they left London to 
 pass their pleasant summers in the country, without re- 
 gret; for, still retaining that peculiar talent of rendering 
 his conversation attractive and pleasant to his hearers, 
 he now joined to it the more useful quality of making it 
 beneficial to them, by painting Virtue in her true colours, 
 and giving to Vice her proper deformities. Nor did he 
 even shrink from avowing to them that none was ever 
 better qualified to pourtray the miseries attendant upon 
 guilt and falsehood, than himself, who had so long wan- 
 dered in the paths of vice; nor did he forget to point the 
 moral of his lessons by shewing them that, even now, 
 with all the favourable circumstances around him — pos- 
 sessing ease, health, and competency — he was still unhappy. 
 The memory of his past crimes still rose to reproach him 
 — and the consciousness how little he deserved the re- 
 spect which his apparent blamelessness of life elicited 
 from those who knew nothing of his former errors, 
 seemed, as he often said, to render it a burthen to him. 
 
 The fate of his youngest daughter, too, long lay 
 
848 
 
 THE GtESY MOTIIEll. 
 
 heavy on his mind. The last time he had belield her, 
 it was in penury — little removed from what he was then 
 suxfering* himself; but that circumstance had created no 
 sympathy for him, in her mind. She had reproached 
 him, bitterly reproached him, with having been the cause 
 of all her errors and all her sutferings; and the justice 
 of that reproach, now more than ever embittered his mo- 
 ments of reflection, while fancy painted her often sufter- 
 Ing all the horrors which experience had taught him ever 
 fell to the lot of the friendless. 
 
 From these conjectures he was, however, at length 
 happily relieved, through the means of those whom he 
 with justice styled his guardian angels. His daughter, 
 after a long and persevering search, which Earl Rae- 
 burn, without acquainting him, had occasioned to be car- 
 ried on for nearly three years, was at length discovered ; 
 and it was found that Miss Delaney, after numerous vicis- 
 situdes, had become the wife of a poor but honest man, 
 who was then struggling with the pressure of indigence 
 and sickness; and that she had effectually redeemed her 
 former errors, by the strictness with which she discharged 
 her duty to her husband and her two children* 
 
 The benevolent interference of Lord Raeburn was 
 again exerted, and Delaney had the supreme delight of 
 being re-united to his daughter, and beholding her raised 
 from penury to comfort — her husband grateful and at- 
 tached, and her children inheriting the beauty and intel- 
 ligence of their mother, without the probability that the 
 possession would be abused, as it had been in her case. 
 
 Happy, supremely happy in each otheFs love, and in 
 the reflection of their own virtues and accomplishments 
 in those of their children, the lives of Lord Raeburn and 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 84.9 
 
 Fanny passed on like a clear and spotless mirror, upon 
 which no sullying cloud alighted to damp its brightness ; 
 and their friends, Irwin and his beautiful Rosa, seemed to 
 emulate them in the purity and benevolence of their 
 lives. 
 
 “ I sometimes think it is possible to be too happy, 
 Fanny,” said the latter to her friend, when they were 
 one day contemplating their children, from the window 
 of the dressing-room, engaged in some amusement on 
 the lawn beneath. 
 
 ‘‘ Here,” she continued, I have been eleven years 
 married — am almost thirty — and have never known a 
 single misfortune or a day’s uneasiness. ‘ Can this last for 
 ever ?’ I sometimes say to myself ; and then the terror, 
 that, should it be interrupted, I should not have proper 
 fortitude ” 
 
 ‘‘ Hush, hush, Rosa, do not talk thus,” interrupted 
 her friend; ‘Ht appears like ingratitude to the beneficent 
 Providence which has so favoured us ! Come,” she con- 
 tinued, assuming a livelier air, “let us go and join those 
 urchins; and, if you are disposed to play the part of 
 “The Woman never Vexed,” I will whisper it in 
 Edmund’s ear, and see if he cannot contrive a cross for 
 you ; or shall I say to you, in the words addressed to 
 that character, in the comedy,” she added, resuming her 
 gravity — 
 
 “ Do not appoint the rod; 
 
 “ Leave still the stroke unto the magistrate — 
 
 “ The time is not past, but you may feel enough,” 
 
 Mrs. Irwin made no reply — but her thoughtful look, 
 and half-suppressed sigh, betrayed that she felt the truth 
 
850 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 of her friend’s remark; and, passing her arm through 
 Lady Raeburn’s, she descended with her to the lawn, to 
 join the children. 
 
 Before, however, they could reach the spot where 
 they had from the window beheld them, they had all 
 vanished, and the two happy mothers could hear their 
 loud laughter and snatches of merry songs, among the 
 thick branches of the plantation, which was almost im- 
 pervious, from the verdant load of leaves and blossoms. 
 
 “ They are gone off the nearest way, to meet their 
 fathers,” said Lady Raeburn. “We will await them 
 here,” and she threw herself on a seat, which the chil- 
 dren had left strewed with the wild garlands they had 
 been making. 
 
 Mrs. Irwin, however, was not inclined to be station- 
 ary. She was restless — she knew not why, she said, — but 
 Lady Raeburn instantly yielded to her suggestion, and they 
 proceeded on the path the children had taken. Suddenly 
 a scream, which seemed to rend the air, arose ; and the 
 agitated mothers, with an exclamation of terror, flew 
 onwards. The scream was repeated, and the loud bark- 
 ing of a dog was followed by an authoritative command 
 from a manly voice, which seemed to have the desired 
 effect; and when they came in sight of the youthful 
 group, they beheld the boys encircling the girls, as if to 
 protect them — while a stranger, to whom the dogs 
 belonged which had been the occasion of terror, was 
 endeavouring to re-assure the affrighted children, and 
 convince them that the dogs had only been actuated by 
 sportiveness, and wished to join in their play. 
 
 “ It is very rough play, though, sir,” said one of the 
 boys, “and I do not wonder that poor little Rosa 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 86J 
 
 screamed — Look how he has marked her shoulder with 
 his great paw, leaping on her.” 
 
 The stranger looked earnestly at the child, who Wt-i a 
 blooming cherub, not more than four years old. 
 
 “Is your name Rosa, my love?^’ he demanded, kissing' 
 her glowing cheek. 
 
 The child replied in the affirmative — and then, at that 
 moment espying her mother, who had come up close 
 behind them, added, “ And mamma’s name is Rosa, too.” 
 
 “ Yes, yes, too well I know it,” he answered. 
 
 Mrs. Irwin started, and the stranger, whose attention 
 had been so wholly taken up with the child as not to have 
 seen her, now turned suddenly round and uttered a hasty 
 and confused apology, stooping at the same time and ca- 
 ressing his two beautiful dogs, as if to disguise his 
 embarrassment, and prevent any examination of his fea- 
 tures. 
 
 The boys were all anxious to vindicate themselves 
 from any blame in not having taken sufficient care of 
 little Rosa, whom they had been especially entrusted with, 
 on the promise of making her the peculiar object of their 
 care. Mrs. Irwin was occupied in listening to their ex- 
 planations, and soothing her little darling, who still 
 viewed the two great dogs with some remains of her for- 
 mer terror. Lady Raeburn, in the mean time, had suffi- 
 cient leisure and presence of mind to mark with astonish- 
 ment the strange embarrassment of the stranger ; who, 
 while apparently anxious only to explain to her the 
 groundless cause of the alarm of the little girl, was 
 evidently occupied with other thoughts and recollections 
 than those connected with the present affair ; and who, 
 when he at lenp-th took leave* seemed to go reluctantly, 
 
852 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 and yet to be glad to be relieved of the observation of 
 those to whom he had been so unexpectedly introduced. 
 
 That is our new neighbour, I suspect, who has 
 taken the pretty cottage in the vale, which you so much 
 admire,” observed Lady Raeburn, addressing her friend. 
 “ He is rather a singular character, I understand — for 
 he declines mixing at all in society, on the plea of ill- 
 health, yet rambles over hill and dale with his two com- 
 panions, from morning till night — and certainly, to judge 
 from his looks, and the activity he displayed in leaping 
 yonder hedge, I should give very little credit to his plea, 
 and suspect that he has some other motive for his seclu- 
 sion.” 
 
 “ Perhaps the youth is melancholy — crossed in love,” 
 said Mrs. Irwin, laughing ; “ but what sort of a creature 
 was it, Fanny, for I scarcely looked at him ?” 
 
 ‘‘ He looked at you enough,” replied Lady Raeburn, 
 smiling; “and, indeed, had I not often heard you say 
 that you never had a lover but him you made a husband 
 of, I should have guessed this gentleman to have been 
 one whom your cruel rejection had some time driven to 
 despair.” 
 
 Mrs. Irwin laughed heartily at the conceit ; but, 
 though she declared she had never, to her recollection, 
 beheld the person who was the subject of their discussion, 
 her friend could not divest herself of the idea that he 
 perfectly recollected her, and beheld her with consider- 
 able emotion. 
 
 At dinner, the subject of their transitory alarm, and 
 interview with the inhabitant of Beech Cottage, as his 
 residence was called, formed one of the topics of con- 
 versation. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 853 
 
 “ I have seen his dogs repeatedly, and beautiful crea- 
 tures they are,” observed the Earl, “ but I have tried in 
 vain to cultivate a good understanding with their master 
 — for, whenever he has crossed my path, he flies off in 
 an opposite direction, or affects not to see me. I under- 
 stand, however, that he has recently returned from the 
 East Indies, and that, plain and retired as he lives, Mr. 
 Meredith is possessed of an immense sum of money, and 
 that he is very liberal and benevolent.” 
 
 Is his name Meredith?” repeated Mrs. Irwin, Then 
 I am now quite sure, Fanny, you were mistaken; for I 
 never in my life knew one of that name. Would you 
 believe it,” she continued, turning to her husband, that 
 Lady Raeburn was inclined to write a little romance this 
 morning, of which I was to be the heroine, and this 
 retired East Indian Nabob, or whatever he is, the 
 hero ?” 
 
 “ How could that possibly enter her ladyship’s head?” 
 returned Mr. Irwin, with a look of great surprise. 
 
 Unconscious of any evil, or the possibility of any 
 misconstruction, the artless Rosa proceeded to relate the 
 observations Lady Raeburn had made upon the look and 
 manners of the stranger ; and, when she had concluded, 
 seemed astonished that her husband, instead of laughing, 
 as she did, at the supposition, seemed restless and un- 
 easy, and asked a thousand questions respecting Mr. Me- 
 redith, whose appearance in the park he stigmatised as an 
 impertinent intrusion, and was angry at his wife’s attempt 
 to vindicate him by observing that he had only jumped 
 the fence to call off his dogs, who were the trespassers, 
 if any. 
 
 He had better not let me catch him, or his dogs, on 
 
854 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 grounds,” said Irwin, with considerable heat, ‘‘or, he 
 may depend on it, I shall treat them with very little 
 ceremony.” 
 
 “Why, surely, you would not offend him, Edmund?” 
 observed his wife, Avho did not see the evil effect her 
 thoughtless candour had produced upon her husband. 
 Until this moment, indeed, she had been totally uncon- 
 scious of the latent evil which slumbered in her husband’s 
 disposition, and which this spark had kindled into a 
 flame. 
 
 Irwin was jealous — ;jealous of he knew not whom, or 
 what — but, certain he was, that there must be some foun- 
 dation for the remarks Lady Raeburn had made; and 
 Rosa, when she that night quitted Levison Hall, whis- 
 pered to Fanny, 
 
 “ The change I prognosticated has begun — Edmund 
 is unkind and unjust to me.” 
 
 “ He will not long remain so, Rosa,” returned her 
 friend, who was greatly agitated, leave him to his own 
 good sense, and calm reflection, and do not see that he is 
 wrong.” 
 
 A week passed on. The Earl and his family returned 
 the visit of their friends, and, to Lady Raeburn’s infinite 
 joy, all traces of Mr. Irwin’s malady seemed to have 
 vanished, and Mr. Meredith appeared forgotten. What, 
 therefore, was her surprise, when, a few evenings after, 
 Irwin rushed into the drawing-room at Levison House, 
 in a state of visible agitation, which he endeavoured to 
 account for by saying that he had had a vexatious letter 
 by the mail, and was fearful he should be obliged to go 
 up to London, on account of a law-suit with his uncle’s 
 late steward. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 855 
 
 Plausible as this appeared, however, it did not fully 
 satisfy Lady Raeburn, whose suspicions were still more 
 excited when she saw her visitor draw the Earl aside 
 and enter into some secret detail with him, which had the 
 evident effect of communicating the emotion he felt to 
 his auditor, and they instantly withdrew together to the 
 library. 
 
 It was impossible for Lady Raeburn to form a con- 
 jecture as to the purport of this conference, but she awaited 
 with anxiety its termination. Earl Raeburn, however, 
 did not return to the drawing-room, and, upon inquiry, 
 his lady found that he had quitted the house with his 
 friend. 
 
 ‘‘ Whither could they be gone, at that time of night ?” 
 was the question which arose almost involuntarily to her 
 lips, as Ned told her that he had saddled his lordship's 
 horse for him, but that he (Earl Raeburn) had declined 
 his further attendance. 
 
 ‘‘ There’s no good a-foot, my lady,” said Ned, after 
 gazing intently in her face for a moment, ‘‘ and, if my 
 master kills me. I’ll follow him.” 
 
 Before she could utter a reply, Ned was gone — and, 
 in a state of suspense and terror, which left her not 
 the power of reasoning. Lady Raeburn awaited his 
 return. 
 
 In about half an hour, she had the satisfaction of seeing 
 Ned spring up the Hall steps with an alacrity that imme- 
 diately re-assured her, 
 
 “ It is all right, my lady — I ran across, and got out at 
 the little wicket before them, and hid myself; and, as 
 they passed me, I could hear they were good friends — 
 but yet I followed them, and saw" my lord turn oif to the 
 
850 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 foreigner’s, at the cottage, and Mr. Irwin rode off home- 
 wards.” 
 
 To the cottage ! What could Earl Raeburn have gone 
 there for ? — In vain his lady asked herself this question — 
 it was impossible she could assign a cause — but the sub- 
 ject did not long remain a mystery. 
 
 Mr. Irwin’s smothered jealousy had at length burst 
 into a flame-— he had learned that Mr. Meredith was in 
 the habit of way-laying his children in their rambles, and, 
 by ingratiating himself with them, induced them to talk 
 of their mother to him. He had even decked little Rosa, 
 who seemed his especial favorite, with a valuable necklace, 
 and had loaded all the children with expensive toys. 
 
 These Mr. Irwin had insisted should be all sent back — 
 but, not content with this, he laid a scheme by which he 
 obtained the desired interview with Mr. Meredith, and 
 then, as it appeared, with little courtesy demanded to 
 know to what motive his family were indebted for his 
 (Mr. Meredith’s) particular notice. 
 
 The reply he got was not satisfactory to his jaundiced 
 apprehension. Mr. Meredith had been greatl)r indebted 
 to Mr. Dormer, the uncle of Mrs. Irwin ; and, though 
 he had no wish to intrude himself on Mrs. Irwin’s re- 
 membrance, he could not help feeling a particular interest 
 in the child. 
 
 ‘‘ Mrs. Irwin denies that she knows even your name. 
 Sir,” observed Irwin. 
 
 ‘‘ It is true — she does not,” returned Meredith. 
 
 Irwin was not satisfied — he made some further remarks, 
 which the stranger would not appear to understand, but 
 at length he roused him into anger, and Meredith coolly 
 declined all further conference with him. 
 
THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 857 
 
 Still heated and unreasonable, Irwin repaired from 
 tills interview to Earl Raeburn. 
 
 He was determined to demand satisfaction of the inso- 
 lent East Indian. Earl Raeburn reasoned with him — he 
 spoke of the misery he would bring on his family— but 
 it was talking to the winds ; and the utmost that Earl 
 Raeburn could obtain was, his permission to see Mere- 
 dith, and, if he could, arrange matters honourably. 
 
 The result of that conference was long kept secret 
 from all but Irwin himself — but Mr. Meredith quitted 
 the cottage within a few days, and his name even was 
 forgotten, until three years afterwards, when his death 
 was announced to have taken place, and that he had left 
 the whole of his immense property between the younger 
 children of her whom he had, he said, “ dared to love, 
 as Rosa Somerville.” It was the young man whom Mr. 
 Dormer had rescued from vice, and placed in a situation 
 to redeem his errors, which he had nobly done. 
 
 Earl Raeburn had instantly recognised the gambler 
 Aubigne in the East Indian Meredith, which name he 
 had taken in consequence of a fortune having been left 
 him; and the Earl speedily convinced him of the folly 
 and cruelty of indulging his romantic feelings at the ex- 
 pense of Mrs. Irwin’s domestic felicity. 
 
 The consequences were as has been related ; and Irwin, 
 again restored to reason, his confidence unshaken in his 
 wife, found still new cause to respect the calm, conside- 
 rate, and thoughtful friend, who had saved him from the 
 effects of his own rash passions. 
 
 “ Yet,” would Earl Raeburn often say, “to the chasten- 
 ing effects of those adverse events which beset my early 
 life, alone are owing what you arc pleased to call my 
 
858 
 
 THE GIPSY MOTHER. 
 
 distinguishing* traits of character. By nature I was 
 proud, rash, and thoughtless:’ but the mystery which in- 
 volved my birth, excited my feelings and taught me to 
 reflect : the noble confidence and liberality of my bene- 
 factor, too, made me emulous to deserve it : and, for my 
 pride, the last remnants of that were buried in the grave 
 of my « Gipsy Mother !* ” 
 
 THE end. 
 
 Directions to the Binder for placing the Plates. 
 
 Elinor Tyrrell and Anne in the shrubbery of Levison 
 
 Hall to face engraved title and vignette. 
 
 Mr. Levison’s death, “ in strong convulsions”, .^o face page 49 
 Anne Powell “ had now a little girl of her own, whom she 
 
 called Elinor” 67 
 
 Charles Levison — “A pretty night’s work,” &c .. 165 
 
 The Gipsy Elinor and her Companions 330 
 
 Elinor 336 
 
 Fanny Levison in Switzerland 518 
 
 Earl Raeburn 641 
 
 Jeannette 785 
 
 Mrs. Charles Levison 795 
 
 The Reader may have the work hound up in one. twOy or three 
 volumes. 
 
 C.. Baynes, Printer, Duhe-street, Lincoln’a-Inu-Fields. 
 

 
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