And so the seemingly lifeless Gypsy Nan was carried into the mansion-like home which stood in the garden-all-aglow that she had so loved.
CHAPTER VI.
ONLY A GYPSY-GIRL.
When at last the girl opened her eyes, she looked about her in half dazed wonder. Where could she be? In a room so beautiful that she thought perhaps it was the gorigo heaven. The walls were the blue of the sky, and the draperies were the gold of the sun, while the wide windows framed glowing pictures of the sea and the garden.
For the first time in her roaming life, Nan was in a luxurious bed. Hearing the faint rustle of leaves at her side, she turned her head and saw a grey-haired, kindly faced woman, who was gowned in a soft silvery cashmere; a bow of pink fastened the creamy lace mantle about her shoulders. It was Miss Dahlia Barrington, who was reading a large book. Hearing a movement from the bed, she looked up with a loving smile, and closing the book, she placed it on a table and bent over the wondering eyed girl.
“Where am I, lady?” Nan asked.
“You are in the Barrington Manor, dear. My sister’s home and mine. Do you not recall what happened?”
“Yes, lady, was the little boy hurt, lady?”
“Indeed not, thanks to you,” Miss Dahlia said. “Tell me your name, dear, that I may know what to call you.”
The girl’s dark eyes grew wistful and she looked for a moment out toward the sea. Then she said in a very low voice. “I don’t know my name, only just Nan.” It was then she remembered that her race was scorned by the white gorigo, and, trying to rise, she added, “I must go now, lady. I must go back to Manna Lou. I’m only a gypsy. You won’t want me here.”
“Only a gypsy?” the little woman said gently, as she covered the brown hand lovingly with her own frail white one. “Dearie, you are just as much a child of God as I am or Miss Barrington is, or indeed, any-one.”