reat was the excitement and consternation which the news of Dr. Wiseman's crime and arrest created in St. Mark's and the neighboring city. The peculiar and romantic circumstances attending it, imperfectly known as they were, the respectability of the parties implicated, the high standing of the prisoner in society—all contributed to add to the general interest of the case.
The rapid and exciting events, the startling discovery that Gipsy was his grandchild, so confounded and bewildered the squire, who was never noted for the brightness of his intellect, that it completely upset his equilibrium; and his days were passed alone, smoking and staring stupidly at every one he saw. As for Lizzie, she was too feeble and languid either to feel horror or surprise, and a faint stare and shiver was the only effect the news produced upon her. Mrs. Gower groaned in spirit over the depravity of mankind in general, and Dr. Wiseman in particular; and generally passed her days in solemn exhortations to the servants, to be warned by his fearful example, and mend their ways.
On Gipsy, therefore, all the business of the household devolved. A great change had come over the elf; her laughing days seemed passed; and quietly establishing herself as mistress of the household, she issued her orders with a quiet dignity and calm authority, that commanded obedience and respect. She wrote to Louis, informing him of all that had occurred, and desiring him to return home immediately.
The only moments of relaxation which Gipsy ever allowed herself were her visits to Valley Cottage, listening to the gentle words of Celeste—"dear Celeste," as Gipsy called her. Day by day she had grown paler and frailer, her step had lost its airy lightness, her cheeks no longer wore the hue of health; but no complaint ever passed her lips. Gipsy often passed her nights at the cottage, feeling it a comfort to pour her troubles into the sympathizing ears of her friend. And Celeste would forget her own sorrow in soothing and consoling the poor, half-crazed little elf.
Miss Hagar, whose health had for some time been failing, was now unable to leave her bed. Fearing the shock might prove fatal, Celeste had taken care she should not hear of her brother's arrest. As for Minnette, no one knew where she was; and, indeed, few cared—for her hard, selfish nature had made her disliked by all.
One evening, Mrs. Gower sat in one of the upper chambers conversing with Mrs. Donne, whose life, it will be remembered, Gipsy saved. That worthy old lady was still an inmate of Sunset Hall, and unwilling to leave her comfortable quarters while suffering with the "rheumatiz." In the confusion and excitement following the arrest, she had been almost totally neglected, and had as yet no opportunity of learning the particulars. Providentially encountering Mrs. Gower, when really dying of curiosity, she began plying her with questions; and the worthy housekeeper, delighted to find so attentive a listener, sat down, and with much gravity began narrating the whole affair, while the attention of her auditor deepened every moment.
"Laws a massy 'pon me!" exclaimed Mrs. Donne, as she ceased; "was she picked up on the beach, Christmas eve, nineteen years ago?"
"Yes; astonishing, isn't it?"
"'Stonishing! I guess so!" said Mrs. Donne; "if you knew what I do, you'd say so."
"Why, what do you know? do tell me," said Mrs. Gower, whose curiosity was aroused.