| CHAPTER | PAGE | |
| I. | Night and Storm | [5] |
| II. | Mr. Toosypegs | [7] |
| III. | The Lovers | [17] |
| IV. | The Gypsy’s Vow | [26] |
| V. | Mother and Son | [30] |
| VI. | The Child-Wife | [37] |
| VII. | The Mother’s Despair | [49] |
| VIII. | Mr. Toosypegs “Turns up” Again | [55] |
| IX. | The Secret Revealed | [63] |
| X. | The Voice of Coming Doom | [72] |
| XI. | Little Erminie | [80] |
| XII. | Woman’s Hate | [91] |
| XIII. | Retribution | [98] |
| XIV. | The New Home | [105] |
| XV. | “After Many Days.” | [121] |
| XVI. | Master Ranty | [132] |
| XVII. | Our Erminie | [141] |
| XVIII. | Pet’s Peril | [150] |
| XIX. | Playing with Edged Tools | [161] |
| XX. | Firefly Goes to School | [176] |
| XXI. | Pet Begins her Education | [187] |
| XXII. | Pet Finishes her Education | [206] |
| XXIII. | The Adopted Daughter | [215] |
| XXIV. | Pet Gives her Tutor a Lesson | [224] |
| XXV. | Mr. Toosypegs in Distress | [238] |
| XXVI. | Pet “Respectfully Declines.” | [244] |
| XXVII. | Greek meets Greek | [251] |
| XXVIII. | An Unlooked-for Lover | [270] |
| XXIX. | Mr. Toosypegs in Distress Again | [280] |
| XXX. | Miss Lawless in Difficulties | [286] |
| XXXI. | The Outlaw’s Wife | [296] |
| XXXII. | The Outlaw | [307] |
| XXXIII. | Home from Sea | [319] |
| XXXIV. | Face to Face | [332] |
| XXXV. | Father and Son | [341] |
| XXXVI. | The Outlaw’s Story | [350] |
| XXXVII. | The Attack | [361] |
| XXXVIII. | Lady Maud | [373] |
| XXXIX. | The Dawn of a Brighter Day | [384] |
| XL. | Chiefly Matrimonial | [392] |
THE GYPSY QUEEN’S VOW.
CHAPTER I.
NIGHT AND STORM.
“The night grows wondrous dark; deep-swelling gusts And sultry stillness take the rule by turn, While o’er our heads the black and heavy clouds Roll slowly on. This surely bodes a storm.” —Baillie.
Overhead, the storm-clouds were scudding wildly across the sky, until all above was one dense pall of impenetrable gloom. A chill, penetrating rain was falling, and the wind came sweeping in long, fitful gusts—piercingly cold; for it was a night in March.
It was the north road to London. A thick, yellow fog, that had been rising all day from the bosom of the Thames, wrapped the great city in a blackness that might almost be felt; and its innumerable lights were shrouded in the deep gloom. Yet the solitary figure, flitting through the pelting rain and bleak wind, strained her eyes as she fled along, as though, despite the more than Egyptian darkness, she would force, by her fierce, steady glare, the obscure lights of the city to show themselves.
The night lingered and lingered, the gloom deepened and deepened, the rain plashed dismally; the wind blew in moaning, lamentable gusts, penetrating through the thick mantle she held closely around her. And still the woman fled on, stopping neither for wind, nor rain, nor storm—unheeding, unfeeling them all—keeping her fierce, devouring gaze fixed, with a look that might have pierced the very heavens, on the still far-distant city.
There was no one on the road but herself. The lateness of the hour—for it was almost midnight—and the increasing storm, kept pedestrians within doors that cheerless March night. Now and then she would pass cottages in which lights were still glaring, but most of the houses were wrapped in silence and darkness.