With a deep sigh, Archie obeyed, and walked out of the room with a most dejected expression of countenance. No sooner was he gone than Gipsy sprang up, and, clapping her hands, danced round the room—her eyes sparkling with delight.
"Oh, it's such fun!" she exclaimed. "Poor, dear Archie!—if I haven't made him a victim to the 'green-eyed monster!' Mr. Danvers, indeed! As if that dear, good-natured Archie wasn't worth all the Mr. Danvers that ever adorned the quarterdeck! Oh! won't I flirt, though, and make the 'distinguished Mr. Rivers' so jealous, that he won't know whether he's standing on his head or his heels! If I am to settle down into a hum-drum Mrs. Rivers some day, I'll have as much frolic as I can before it. So, Master Archie, look out for the 'wrath that's to come;' for your agonies won't move me in the least."
And never did any one keep her word more faithfully than Gipsy. During the fortnight that Archie was to stay with them she flirted unmercifully with the handsome young midshipman, who was now able to ride out, quite unconscious of all the hopes she was rousing in his bosom. Poor Gipsy! little did she dream that, while she rode by his side, and bestowed upon him her enchanting smiles, and wore the colors he liked, and sang the songs he loved, to torment the unhappy Archie, that he, believing her serious, had already surrendered his heart to the bewitching sprite, and reposed in the blissful dream of one day calling her his!
Archie Rivers was jealous. Many were the ferocious glances he cast upon the young sailor; and many and dire were his threats of vengeance. But Gipsy, mad girl, only listened and laughed, and knew not that another pair of ears heard those threats, and would one day use them to her destruction.
But matters were now drawing to a crisis. The young midshipman was now quite restored to health, and found himself obliged to turn his thoughts toward his own home. Archie's fortnight had elapsed; but still he lingered—too jealous to leave while his rival remained.
One bright moonlight night the three were gathered in the cool, wide porch in front of the mansion. Gipsy stood in the doorway—her white dress fluttering in the breeze—binding in her dark, glossy curls a wreath of crimson rosebuds, given her a few moments previous by Mr. Danvers. All her smiles, and words, and glances were directed toward him. Archie was apparently forgotten.
"Please sing one of your charming songs, Miss Gipsy; this is just the hour for music," said Mr. Danvers.
"With pleasure. What shall it be?—your favorite?" inquired Gipsy, taking her guitar and seating herself at his feet.
"If you will be so good," he replied, his eyes sparkling with pleasure at her evident preference.
Archie's brow grew dark. He hated the sailor's favorite song, because it was his favorite. This Gipsy well knew; and her brown eyes twinkled with mischief, as she began, in her clear, sweet voice: