Zula Part 7

"Oh, look, there comes a band of gypsies; now just look how dirty some of them look, and what loads of beads they have in their baskets. I wish we had some, don't you?"

At that moment Zula had reached the spot where the girls were standing.

"Dasn't you go and ask them gypsies for some beads?" said the first speaker to Zula.

"No, I don't like beads," said Zula, hurrying on, and springing lightly into the doorway. Her face was pale and her heart beat quick and hard. She hurried up the stairway, which was well crowded with pupils, and gave a sigh of relief as she reached the top.

"What is the matter?" a teacher asked, who stood near. "Are you ill?"

"I had a pain in my side when I ran up stairs," replied Zula.

She had seen Crisp and she knew that should he discover that she was there hope was lost.

"Oh, before I would be such a little coward, oh, ho! Afraid of a band of gypsies!" said a rude boy.

"I ain't afraid," said Zula, with flashing eyes.

"Oh, but they do say, though, that they will steal little boys and girls and take them away off," said another.

"They won't take her though," broke in a third party, "she looks so much like one; they'd rather have little white ones."

"Hush," said the teacher, as Zula stepped forward and raised her hand as if to strike the offender, "stop this quarreling at once."

Zula dropped her hand and turned quickly away. Her first impulse had been to strike the boy who had insulted her so, but her better nature prevailed and instead of angry words tears were called forth. The teacher after sternly rebuking the boy turned to Zula, saying:

"I am glad you did not give way to your pa.s.sion. It was very good and brave of you."

She looked out of the schoolroom window and saw the gypsy band turn down the road, which she knew they would take in their route from the city, for it was now about the latter part of September. She knew they had delayed starting out in the hope of finding her, but she concluded that they had given up the search. How her heart leaped as she saw Crisp moving away. He was her brother, but she could not remember one kind word he had ever spoken to her. She could not remember one kind act from her mother--not even one look. She wondered why it was that they seemed to hate her very presence and she sincerely hoped that she had looked on them for the last time. She was but a child, but she had experienced a woman's heartaches. Only eleven summers had pa.s.sed over her head, and yet she had seen no childhood. She was brave and ambitious, which traits were more essential than self-esteem, so that if she did sometimes get discouraged, and think she was the dullest person in the whole school, others looked on and admired the work she finally wrought. It was perhaps quite as well that she was ignorant of her own ability, for she had never possessed the opportunity to gain the first rudiments of a school education, and it was remarkable how rapidly she advanced. Had she known her capacity for devouring knowledge she might have been less eager to make up for lost time. The idea that there were any idle moments to be spent in the schoolroom never presented itself to her mind. Thus her time was well improved.

CHAPTER VI.

SILVERY WAVES.

Three years had pa.s.sed since Zula entered the home of her kind benefactor. She had improved vastly in every way. In an atmosphere of love and sympathy, the pa.s.sionate nature was growing more and more subdued, though the old spark was still lying deep down in her heart, and if not so often fanned to a flame was still there.

Mrs. Platts had decided to visit a sister, the wife of a merchant, who lived in the western town of Clear Lake, situated on a lake of the same name, whose waters are as clear as crystal, while its sh.o.r.es are lined with sh.e.l.ls and pebbles of rare shapes and colors.

Pleasure boats ply between the mainland and the island lying four miles out in the lake, whereon stands a commodious hotel, and where pleasure-seekers find a cool and pleasant resort during the heated months. Mrs. Platts' sister, Mrs. Horton, like her sister, possessed a sweet disposition and lady-like manners. She was a fine looking woman, some years younger than Mrs. Platts. There had always existed a marked attachment between the two. She was the mother of two children; a boy of sixteen and a girl of thirteen years of age. Guy was a very intelligent boy, stout and rosy, and very studious. He was usually in advance of his cla.s.s and was called the best writer in school. In fact, so apt was he in his literary efforts that it had become a fixed idea with the people of the town that Guy Horton would, some day, make a mark in the world. Guy's father was wealthy, and consequently Guy was not to receive one rebuke from strangers for fear of hurting his feelings. This Zula noticed, after a time, and she wondered why people were so much more careful of hurting the feelings of the rich than of the poor. Guy's sister Carrie was a sweet-tempered girl, ever ready to oblige and seldom ill-tempered.

Mr. Horton always made the visits of his guests pleasant, although very much occupied with his business.

Mrs. Platts had prepared for Zula a liberal wardrobe, and when she stood before the mirror in her pretty dress of garnet with its satin folds, she wondered if the image she saw there was really Zula, the gypsy, or had she been transformed into a young princess, with sparkling eyes and raven hair. Although she had no idea that any one would think she was pretty, yet she was glad that the tan was wearing off, and that her hands had grown more plump and even more beautiful in shape than before. She wondered what Crisp would think of her now.

She did not feel quite as much like shooting him as she had heretofore, but she would just like to see him unhappy, for she still carried the marks of his cruelty, and would carry them to her grave.

She had said to Mrs. Platts:

"I do so want to take my little pistol, and shoot the heads off the little birds and squirrels, for I may forget how to shoot if I don't."

Mrs. Platts shuddered at the thought of so young a girl talking so freely of using firearms, but since Zula seemed to desire it so much she consented, first having gained a promise that she would be very careful, at which Zula gave a half-derisive smile. Truly there were many evils to root out of the girl's nature, and Mrs. Platts had grown to the belief that it was her mission to do it, but she prayed for strength, believing that education and culture alone would do the work of reform, and though it would take patience on her part, she felt that there was too much good, too much that was really n.o.ble in the child to be lost. One afternoon about a week after her arrival at the home of Mr. Horton, Zula sat by the lakeside, whose waters were all aglow, sparkling like a thousand diamonds, as the soft winds made tiny waves, which rose and fell with a sweet musical sound. She had wandered down to the bank, alone, for she loved to go there and watch the little pleasure boats, and to gather the sh.e.l.ls that lay along the sh.o.r.e. She sat with her broad-brimmed hat shading her face, and her lap half filled with pebbles. She was looking out over the waters, while her fingers, which held a pencil, rested on a little book which lay upon her knee.

"Bless me, there's a pretty little gypsy; only look what a head of hair!"

Zula saw two fashionably dressed young ladies standing a short distance behind her.

"How do you know I'm a gypsy?" she asked, angrily.

"Goodness, did you hear me? Well, excuse me, then, please."

"Yes, and I want you to tell me how you know I'm a gypsy."

"Why, I only judged by those long beautiful braids, but I would know it now by the angry look in your black eyes; so now you may as well tell the truth about it."

"It's none of your business."

A hearty laugh broke upon the air and floated away over the water. The young lady had spoken in jest, but her words went like a sharp pointed arrow straight down into Zula's heart.

"You are saucy enough whatever you are."

"I don't care if I am," said Zula. "If you don't like me all you have to do is to let me alone."

The young ladies walked on, laughing as they went.

Zula sat for some moments motionless and with eyes looking down into the clear water before her, thinking deeply. The little pebbles, round and white, which lay under the water, seemed to form themselves into tiny shapes. They rose and fell with the soft waves, washing up on the sh.o.r.e, and at last forming a castle--Zula's castle, the first she had ever built. Tiny fish darted out and through its arches, sprinkling drops about with the dip of their silvery fins. The sunbeams gave a rich golden glow to the little castle so full of bright visions, for Zula saw within its walls sights so beautiful that they fairly made her heart leap for joy. She wondered if some day she would not wander through the halls of such a castle as she saw there. The tears began to drop one by one from the heavy black lashes.

"Oh, I wish I could; how I wish I could. I wonder if some day--but, oh, dear, I can't--who ever heard of a gypsy----"

Her pencil went down making marks on the little book on her knee.

"Julia Ellis makes the loveliest pictures, without a bad line in them, and I wish, oh, how I wish----"

"Why, Cousin Zula, here you are, I have been looking all around for you, and here you are--drawing, too. What, you haven't been crying?

Are you homesick?"

"Oh, no. What made you think I had been crying?"

"I fancied I saw tears; that was all."

"Well, I did cry a little. There were two of the sauciest young ladies here--no, I don't believe they _were_ ladies."

"Were they rude to you?"

"I should think they were."

"What did they say?"

"They thought I looked like a gypsy, and I told her it was none of her business if I was."