Sharing Her Crime Part 34

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:

"'Sleeping, I dream, love--I dream, love, of thee; O'er the bright waves, love, floating with thee; Light in thy soft hair played the soft wind, Fondly thy white arms around me were twined; And as thy song, love, swelled o'er the sea, Fondly thy blue eyes beamed, love, on me.'"

She hesitated a moment, and looked up in his face, as though really intending the words for him. He was bending over her, pale and panting--his blue eyes blazing with a light that brought the crimson blood in a rosy tide to her very temples. She stopped abruptly.

"Go on!" he said, in a low voice.

She hesitated, glanced at Archie, and seeing the storm-cloud on his brow, the demon of mischief once more conquered her better nature, and she resumed:

"'Soon o'er the bright waves howled forth the gale, Fiercely the lightning flashed on our sail, And as our frail bark drove through the sea, Thine eyes, like loadstones, beamed, love, on me.

Oh, heart, awaken!--wrecked on lone sh.o.r.e, Thou art forsaken!--dream, heart, no more.'"

Ere the last words were uttered, Archie had seized his hat and rushed from the house; and Danvers, forgetting everything save the entrancing creature at his feet, clasped her suddenly in his arms, and pa.s.sionately exclaimed:

"Oh, Gipsy! my love! my life, my beautiful mountain sprite!--can you, will you love me?"

With a wild, sharp cry of terror and anger, she broke from his arms, and sprang back, with flashing eyes.

"Back, sir, back!--I command you! How _dare_ you attempt such a liberty with me?"

How beautiful she looked in her wrath, with her blazing eyes, and crimson cheeks, and straight little form drawn up to its full height, in surprise and indignation.

He stood gazing at her for a moment--amazed, thunderstruck at the change. Then, seeing only her enchanting beauty, he took a step forward, threw himself at her feet, and broke forth pa.s.sionately:

"Gipsy, I love you--I worship you. Have you been mocking me all this time?--or do you love me, too?"

"Rise, sir! I have neither been mocking you, nor do I love you! Rise!

rise! Kneel not to me!"

"And I have been deceived? Oh, falsest of false ones! why did you learn me to love you?"

"Mr. Danvers, don't call me names. As to the learning you to love _me_, I never attempted such a thing in my life! I'd scorn to do it," she said, indignantly; but even while she spoke, the blood rushed in a fiery torrent to her face, and then back to her heart, for she thought of all the encouragement her merciless flirtation must have given him.

"You did, Gipsy, you know you _did_!" he vehemently exclaimed. "Every encouragement that could be given to a lover, you gave to me; and I--fool that I was--I believed you, never dreaming that I should find a flinty, hardened flirt in one whom I took to be a pure-hearted mountain maiden."

Had Gipsy felt herself innocent of the charge, how indignantly she would have denied it. But the consciousness of guilt sent the crimson once more to her brow, as she replied in a low, hurried tone:

"Mr. Danvers, I have done wrong! Forgive me! As heaven is my witness, I dreamed not that you cared for me. It was my mad, wild love of mischief brought all this about. Mr. Danvers, it is as yet a secret, but Mr.

Rivers is my betrothed husband. Some fiend prompted me to make him jealous, and to accomplish that end I--I blush to say it--flirted with you; alas, never dreaming you thought anything of it. And now that I have acknowledged my fault, will you forgive me, and--be my friend?"

She extended her hand. He smiled bitterly, and pa.s.sed her without touching it. Then leaving the house, he mounted his horse and galloped furiously away. Prophetic, indeed, were the words with which her song had ended--words that came pealing through the dim aisles of the forest after him, as he plunged frantically along:

"Oh, heart, awaken!--wrecked on lone sh.o.r.e, Thou art forsaken!--dream, heart, no more!"

Gipsy stood still in the porch, cold and pale, awaiting his return. But though she waited until the stars grew dim in the sky, he came not.

Morning dawned, and found her pale with undefined fear, but still he was absent.

After breakfast, Archie came over, still angry and sullen, after the previous night's scene, to find Gipsy quieter and more gentle than he had ever seen her before in her life.

"I wish he would come! I wish he would come!" cried her wild, excited heart, as she paced up and down, until her eyes grew bright and her cheeks grew burning hot, with feverish watching and vague fear.

"You look ill and excited, Gipsy. A canter over the hills will do you good," said Archie, anxiously.

She eagerly a.s.sented, and leaping on Mignonne's back, dashed away at a tremendous pace, yet could not go half quick enough to satisfy her restless longing to fly, fly, she knew not where.

"Where are you going, Gipsy?" cried Archie, who found some difficulty to keep up with the break-neck pace at which she rode.

"To the Black Gorge," was her reply, as she thundered over the cliff.

"Why, Gipsy! what possesses you to go to that wild place?" said Archie, in surprise.

"I don't know--I feel as if I must go there! Don't talk to me, Archie! I believe I'm crazy this morning!"

She flew on swifter than ever, until they reached the spot--a huge, black, yawning gulf among the hills. She rode so close to the fearful brink that Archie's heart stood still in horror.

"Are you mad, Gipsy?" he cried, seizing her bridle-rein and forcing her back. "One false step, and your brains would be dashed out against the rocks."

But, fixing her eyes on the dark chasm, she answered him only by a wild, prolonged shriek, so full of piercing anguish that his blood seemed curdling in his veins, while, with bloodless face and quivering finger, she pointed to the gulf.

He leaped from his horse and approached the dizzy edge. And there a sight met his eyes that froze his heart with horror.

"Great G.o.d!" he cried, springing back, with a face deadly white. "A horse and rider lie dead and mangled below!"

A deadly faintness came over Gipsy; the ground seemed reeling around her, and countless stars danced before her eyes. For a moment she was on the verge of swooning, then by a powerful effort the tide of life rolled back, and she leaped from her horse and stood by his side.

"It is impossible to reach the bottom," cried Archie, in a voice low with horror. "A cat could hardly clamber down those perpendicular sides."