Zula Part 11

He made no reply, for Meg was just coming in with a cup of tea, which she gave to Zula, who as she drank it, said:

"It is so bitter."

"It will strengthen you," said the old gypsy.

"Will it cure the cuts on my shoulder?" asked Zula.

"That is all nonsense."

"Oh, I know it is cut; and here is one on my arm; I know by the way they smart."

She raised the sleeve of her dress, and revealed a gash from which the blood had started.

"Then you must learn to be good. You don't know," she said, turning to the stranger, "what a bad little thief she is."

"No matter what wrong she has done it does not justify the punishment you have given her."

Zula's eyes were turned full upon the face of the young man as though beseeching him not to believe her guilty.

"Will you have your fortune told?" asked Meg.

"For what? I came out to the woods to get fresh air and to practice a little shooting. I came very near using that young rascal there for a target. It is quite necessary to keep in practice, I see--but what do you know of my fortune?"

"I can tell you what you wish to know most."

He laughed.

"See if I cannot."

"Well," he said, prompted by curiosity, "if you can tell me all that, proceed."

She took his hand, as soft and white as a woman's, and gazing at the palm, she said:

"You are wealthy."

"Indeed."

"Your parents are both living."

"Yes."

"Your hands are never soiled with work."

"I thought you were to tell me something which I did not know."

"You will marry a beautiful woman."

"Ah! well, that will be no satisfaction if she is not good."

"She will be good and beautiful."

"That is well."

"But there are tears for you, and the stain of blood on your hands."

The young man drew back, then laughed at his own folly.

"No," he said, "there will never be the stain of blood on my hands.

Tears are for us all, but crime is not for me."

"We can't change the fates."

"We weave our own destiny, perhaps."

"Others weave for us and we must take what comes."

"I must go," he said. "Is there any more fortune for me?"

"Yes, there is a great deal to tell."

"I will come some other day and get the rest of it, I must go," he said, placing a piece of money in her hand. "I suppose you get a great many silver pieces in this way."

"Oh, yes," she answered, placing the money in a well-filled beaded bag. "Yes, almost every afternoon the young ladies and gentlemen from the city come here."

"Well, I cannot see that I have learned anything," said the young man, thinking that she had given him all that her wicked heart would allow, and that the criminal part was given through spite from his having interfered in the whipping of Zula. He went to the door of the tent and bade Zula good-bye, then wandered away through the woods.

"Oh, dear," said Zula to herself, with eyes filling with tears; "why cannot I stay with some one who is kind to me? I wish I could get back home to dear Mr. and Mrs. Platts, and I will, too, some day. How kind they were to me. If I ever get a chance to hurt Crisp I'll do it. I believe I'll kill him."

The thought had scarcely pa.s.sed through Zula's brain ere she shuddered at its coming.

"How terrible that would be," she added. "Oh, I wish I could get away from him; I know if I do not I shall do something terribly wicked. If I could only get home again I could be good. I do not feel so wicked when I am with dear Mrs. Platts. I wonder why."

It was not strange that Zula should feel a spirit of revenge while in the presence of Crisp and his mother.

The gypsy camp was arranged for a dance. Zula lay on her bed and ever and anon caught a glimpse of some gaily dressed gypsy, as they flitted by the tent door. A young girl entered the tent, and going to Zula, said:

"Meg sent me in to tell you to get up and come out; they want you to play the guitar."

"I don't want to play," said Zula, in a half angry tone. "I am too lame to play or dance, and they would not let me dance if I could, just because they know I would enjoy it more."

"Well, I suppose you will have to come anyway, 'cause Meg said so, and so did Crisp."

"Crispin," and Zula's eyes flashed a light like that of an angry tiger. "Crisp, I hate him bad enough to kill him."

"I'm sorry for you, Zu," said Fan, as she noticed the great red marks on Zula's flesh. "I am so sorry, and if I was you I'd----"

"What would you do?"