"The moon had gone down, and the false dawn was peeping between the stems of the old oaks, when I caught sight of a square, thick figure threading the track among the trees that led to the Lees' camp. I leaped up, and took him by the hand. He was trembling all over. 'You are welcome back, Uncle Ryley,' says I. 'You have made a long journey, uncle; have you returned empty-handed, or did you find what you went to seek?'
"'The shoes are worn from my feet, brother,' was his answer. 'For three days and three nights I have gone without food or rest; but I took what I wanted, Fin, and I can hold up my head once more among my people.'
"'Did you hear any news of Mary?' was my next question, and my heart rose to my mouth while I asked it, for he was a strong, fierce man, who would strike with fist or steel if he was angered, and never give you a chance. I could scarce believe it was Ryley Lee who answered in that weak, low voice, with a cheek that had turned grey, like the ashes of a wood-fire in the dim morning light.
"'It is well with her,' was all he said, 'but you will see Mary in our tents no more.'
"'She is dead!' burst from my lips, for there seemed a smell of blood in my nostrils, and the pale streaks of dawn grew crimson between the trees.
"'It is well with her,' he repeated, turning from me into his tent. 'Mary Lee has left her people—dead or alive we shall see her no more.'
"Then I knew she had paid the price it costs the Romany maiden who loves a Gorgio too well!"
Waif had changed colour more than once during the above recital; but though she looked very pale now, there was a firm, hard expression in her face that denoted some fixed purpose no consideration should set aside.
"'The hawk does not mate with the barn-door fowl,' said she, 'and the Romany chal marries with the Romany chi, for surely we are one people; but this affects neither you nor me, Fin. If gipsies cannot trust each other, how shall we hold our own against the Gentiles? Mary Lee was a good-for-nothing hussey; Uncle Ryley a cruel, blood-thirsty monster; and here we are at the camp. Take your bundle, Fin, I've carried it till I'm tired. Yes; I'll shake hands with you. Good-night.'"
Extricating herself impatiently from the embrace of her affianced husband, who succeeded, however, in pressing his lips against her brow, she disappeared within one of the tents, leaving Fin Cooper outside, a prey to contending feelings, among which jealousy and suspicion were in the ascendant. He loved the girl: of that he was quite sure, and in such a character, love is a fearful motive power for good or evil. It possesses also a keen instinct of reciprocity, not to be deceived, and few conditions are more pitiable than that of a strong wilful temperament, persuading itself, against its own convictions, that it is not exchanging gold for silver, that the ship which carries its whole freight is not sinking hourly beneath its feet.