At length, when he had ceased to speak, she started from the ground, advanced towards him, and exclaimed in an excited tone, "Have not you and I met before?"
"Not unlikely, my dear," was the reply. "Perhaps under the screw[88]—or in the Holy Land,[89] which I visit from time to time—or else in the bottom of a coal-hell[90] in the county of Stafford."
"It is! it is!" ejaculated the Rattlesnake, ready to spring towards him, and throw her arms around his neck. "Don't you remember me now?"
"Remember you?" repeated the man slowly; and he gazed upon the Rattlesnake's countenance for some moments;—then, as if a sudden light dawned in upon him, he started from the ground in his turn, crying, "May I never drink rum slim[91] again if it isn't my old flame, Meg Flathers!"
And they flew into each other's arms.
"Your Majesty," said Skilligalee,—for this was the individual whose name we for a moment suppressed,—"Your Majesty," he exclaimed, when this embrace was over, "allow me to present to you my wife, the lovely and accomplished Margaret Flathers."
"She is welcome," said Zingary gravely. "Young woman, sit down and be welcome. We ask no questions whether you are our comrade's splice[92] or not: it is enough for us that he acknowledges you as such. Aischa—welcome a daughter; Eva—greet a sister."
The old and the young gipsy women advanced towards the Rattlesnake and took each a hand.
"I welcome you, daughter," said Aischa.
"I greet you, sister," said Eva.