drawn by two lank horses, emerged into view. Behind the wagon, mounted on a mule, rode a dark-visaged man.
When the wagon arrived in front of the house it stopped, and the man on the mule advanced to the garden fence, dismounted, and threw his reins over the gate post. He then opened the gate, and was about to pass to the rear of the cottage when he spied little Edith. The slanting sunbeams had crept so close to her face that it was only a question of a few moments when the bright glare would end her sleep.
The man paused and glanced cautiously about him; then, taking another look at Edith, he stealthily moved on until he reached the back part of the house. The widow sat in a large arm-chair near the kitchen door, which was open. In her lap lay an old garment that she had been mending; the cool breeze that came through the door from the front of the house blew the pendant honey-suckle against her cheek, but she heeded it not, for she, too, like little Edith, had succumbed to the influence of the sleepy afternoon.
The dark-visaged man no sooner took in the situation than he quickly, but quietly, returned to the wagon and said some strange words to a big, stupid-looking fellow who was perched on the front seat of the odd-shaped vehicle, and from whose hands dangled the lines of the lank horses. The fellow stood up, and shading his eyes with his huge, brawny hand, peered toward the house: then fastening his lines to a hook in the wagon bow, he jumped lightly to the ground and followed his companion to where little Edith lay sleeping.
In the back portion of the wagon sat two persons; one was an old woman with a swarthy, wrinkled face, and the other was a beautiful little girl about ten years of age. Her hair was not black as was that of the old woman, it was of a rich chestnut hue, and her complexion, although darkened by the sun, was extremely fair; but her eyes! oh, they were the rarest of
brown eyes! and as she turned them inquiringly towards the old crone, they seemed like pansies wet with dew; so velvety, so liquid. Without saying a word, she let her long silken lashes drop until her lovely eyes were fixed upon the blankets that lay at her feet. The old woman was restless and looked through the curtain windows towards the cottage.
Mean while the men had reached the porch. Their movements were noiseless and cat-like. The dark-visaged man drew a handkerchief from his breast pocket, and the stupid looking fellow held a stout cord in his right hand. In an instant they gagged and bound little Edith and rapidly bore her to the rear of the wagon, when, opening the leather door, they handed her struggling form to the old crone, who stood ready to receive her. Quickly shutting the wagon door, the stupid-looking fellow mounted his seat, the dark-visaged man leaped upon the back of his mule, and in a twinkling the gypsies had disappeared behind a bend in the road.
As soon as the little girl with brown eyes saw the men bring Edith to the wagon she trembled and began to weep. The old crone shook her finger at her and bade her to have a care what she did. Then turning to Edith she said, “I will remove the gag from your mouth if you promise not to make any noise.” Edith, who was almost frightened to death, nodded her head whereupon the old crone untied the handkerchief not from kindness, but fear that the child would suffocate. Poor Edith sobbed as though her heart would break, and more than once looked appealingly at the brown-eyed girl. The latter, whenever the crone turned her head, glanced at Edith and tried in every possible way to mutely assure her of her sympathy and friendship.
The gypsies drove very fast for several miles, when they suddenly left the main road and turned into a narrow lane that led through a dense forest. The horses were then allowed to
slacken their speed. After an hour’s drive the party came upon a gypsy encampment in an open space. The forest trees formed a semi-circle about the sides and rear of the camp while the front was somewhat protected from view by the wagons, which were ranged on a line with the lane.