“‘What is her appearance?’ asked Lady Aubrey.
“‘She might be a gipsy, my lady, from her eyes and complexion,’ said the old butler; ‘but her manner is quite different—quite modest and simple.’
“‘O, mama, let her, let her come; I know it is Keziah.’
“Lady Aubrey changed colour—‘Are you sure there are no others lurking near the house?’
“‘I have seen none, my lady.’
“‘Well, let her come,’ said Lady Aubrey: ‘but do you, Andrews, stay near.’ The old man soon returned, followed by the slight and almost shadowy form of the gipsy girl. The next instant Julia had sprung to her neck. Keziah looked timidly towards Lady Aubrey as if doubting whether she might venture to return the grateful child’s caresses; but the moist eyes and kindly smile that met her glance encouraged her, and kissing Julia’s forehead and hands, she burst into a flood of tears. Keziah’s history was quickly told. As soon as the report of the old woman’s fearful accident, and the child’s being safe and taken under a lady’s protection, had reached the ears of the gipsies, who had also attended the race-course, they concluded that a discovery of their share in the detention of the child was certain; and instantly quitting the course, they hastened by by-paths to join the rest of the gang, whom they had left in the forest. It was immediately determined that, for the general safety, they should disperse and join themselves singly to such tribes as they might be able to fall in with; and Keziah, who had always been despised by some for her timidity, and hated by others for the partiality with which her grandmother had regarded her, was permitted to take her own lonesome way unquestioned and uncared for. Her resolution was soon formed. She owed no duty to any but the old woman who had met with so terrific an end. The gipsy life, always distasteful, was now become loathsome to her. She determined to beg her way to Julia’s home, to give what tidings she could of her to her parents, if she was not yet restored to them, and at all events to throw herself on their protection, offering her labour for her bread.
“Many were the dangers and privations which the poor girl had met with on her weary way. She had sometimes subsisted for days and days on nuts, roots, and berries; she has sometimes been reduced to beg, and the glittering silver had been held out to tempt her to spell fortunes: ‘but,’ said she, with a glow of honest pride, spreading over her fine expressive features, ‘the bread of deceit has never touched these lips.’
“Keziah was now established for ever in her grateful Julia’s home. The thirst of her soul was gratified. She learned all she had so yearned to know, of her God, her Saviour, her religion. She had no longer to gaze at a distance and with mysterious awe, on the walls of a forbidden church, but she was admitted within its doors, to become, by the rite of baptism, in name, as she was already in heart—a Christian.”
CONCLUSION.
And now, my little readers, I will pause. I have told you so long a story, that perhaps we all require a little rest. I shall soon find out, however, whether what I have written for you gives you pleasure. If it does, I promise you another volume very soon; if it does not, you shall receive now my farewell.