But Kate dared not linger longer. Cuthbert fetched her palfrey, and Culverhouse lifted her to the saddle; and hiring a steed from a farmer for a brief hour, promising to bring it back in time for the good man to jog home again at dusk, the newly-plighted pair rode off into the forest together, he promising to see her to within sight of her own home before taking a last adieu.

Cuthbert stood looking after them with a smile on his lips.

"Now, if Heaven will but speed my quest and give me happy success, I trow those twain may yet be wed again, no man saying them nay; for if sweet Mistress Kate can but bring with her the dower the treasure will afford, none will forbid the union: she will be welcomed by Lord Andover as a fitting wife for his son and heir!"

Chapter 13: The Gipsy's Tryst.

"This is surely the spot. Methinks she will not fail me. Moonrise was the hour she named. I will wait with what patience I may till she comes to keep the tryst."

So said Cuthbert to himself as, at the close of that long and varied day, he stood at the mouth of a natural cave, half hidden by tangled undergrowth, which had been appointed months ago by Joanna the gipsy as the place where on May Day evening she would meet him, and tell him more of the matter so near to his heart.

Culverhouse and he had parted company when the former had escorted towards her home the lady of his choice, to whom his troth had been so solemnly plighted a short while before. The young Viscount was going to make his way rapidly to London again; but Cuthbert purposed a long stay in the forest. The search for the lost treasure might be a matter of weeks, possibly of months. But he was very well resolved not to give it up until the search had been pursued with unabated zeal to the last extremity, and he himself was fully satisfied as to its fate. Nothing but actual knowledge that it had been dissipated and dispersed should induce him to abandon the quest.

Standing at the mouth of the cave, leaning against the rocky wall, and enjoying the deep solitude of the forest and its tranquil stillness, Cuthbert revolved many matters in his mind, and it seemed more certain than ever that the finding of the treasure alone could save him and many that he loved from manifold difficulties and perplexities. How that treasure would smooth the path and bring happiness and ease to the Trevlyn family! Surely it was well worth a more vigorous search than had long been made! Cuthbert took from his pocket the bit of parchment containing the mystic words of the wise woman, or her familiar spirit, and perused them again and again, albeit he knew them well nigh by heart.

"Thou art here! It is well."

Cuthbert started at the sound of the rich, deep tones, and found himself confronted by the queenly-looking gipsy. He had not heard her approach. She seemed to have risen from the very ground at his feet. But he was scarcely surprised. She had the air of one who could come and go at will even upon the wings of the wind.

"I am here," answered Cuthbert, making a courteous salutation. "I thank thee that thou hast not forgotten the tryst."

"I never forget aught, least of all a promise," answered Joanna, with her queenly air of dignity. "I come to strive to do my share to atone a wrong and render rest.i.tution where it is due. What paper is that, boy, that thou studiest with such care?"

Cuthbert handed her the sc.r.a.p of parchment. He did not know if she would have learning to decipher it; but the writing appeared to have no difficulties for her. She read the words in the clear light of the May evening, albeit the sun had set and the crescent moon was hanging like a silver lamp in the sky; and as she did so she started slightly, and fixed a keenly penetrating glance upon Cuthbert.

"Where didst thou get these lines, boy?"

"They were given me by a wise woman, whom I consulted to see if she could aid me in this matter."

"A wise woman! And where didst thou find her?"

"In London town, where she practises her arts, and many come unto her by secret. She is veritably that which she professes, for she told me the object of my quest ere I had told mine errand to her."

"But thou hadst told her thy name?"

"Yes, verily, I had done that."

"And knowing that, she divined all. Verily thou hast seen Esther the witch! And this was all she knew--this was all she knew!"

Joanna's head was bent over the parchment. Her eyes were full of fire. Her words seemed addressed rather to herself than to Cuthbert, and they excited his ardent curiosity.

"And who is Esther? and dost thou know her? thou speakest as if thou didst."

"All of us forest gipsies know Esther well. She is one of us, though she has left the forest to dwell in cities. According to the language of men, she is my aunt. She is sister to old Miriam, whom thou sawest in the forest mill, and who would have done thee to death an I had not interposed to save thee. And Miriam is my mother, albeit I am her queen, and may impose my will on her."

"And does she know aught of the lost treasure?" asked Cuthbert, with eager impatience.

"I had hoped she did," answered Joanna slowly, her eyes still bent on the paper. "I have seen her myself since I saw thee last. I have spoken with her on this same matter. I could not draw from her what I strove to do; but I see now that I prepared the way, and that when thou didst go by chance to her, she was ready for thee. But if this is all she knows, it goes not far. Still it may help--it may help. In a tangled web, no one may say which will be the thread which patiently followed may unravel the skein."

"Belike she knows more than she would say," suggested Cuthbert quickly. "If she can look into the future, sure she may look into the past likewise--"

But Joanna stopped him by a strange gesture.

"Peace, foolish boy! Thinkest thou if gipsy lore could unravel the riddle, that it had not long ago become known to me? We have our gifts, our powers, our arts, and well we know how to use them be it for good or ill. But we know full well what the limits are. And if men know it not, it is more their blindness than our skill that keeps them in ignorance. And if they give us more praise and wonder than we merit, do they not also give us hatred and enmity in like meed? Have we not gone through fire and sword when men have risen up against us and called us sorcerers? Have we not suffered for our reputation; and do we not therefore deserve to wear it with what honour we may?"

The woman spoke with a strange mixture of bitterness, earnestness, and scorn--scorn, as it seemed, almost of herself and of her tribe, yet a scorn so proudly worn that it scarce seemed other than a mark of distinction to the wearer. Cuthbert listened in amaze and bewilderment. It was all so different from what he had looked for. He had hoped to consult an oracle, to learn hidden secrets of which the gipsies had cognizance through their mysterious gifts; and, behold, he was almost told that these same gifts were little more than the idle imagining of superst.i.tious and ignorant men.

"Then canst thou tell me nothing?" he asked.

"I can tell thee much," was the steady answer, "albeit not all that thou wouldst know; that will still be thine to track out with patience and care. But these lines may help; they may contain a clue. I wonder how and where Esther learned them! But come within the cave. The evening air grows chill, and I and thou have both walked far, and stand in need of refreshment. All is ready for us within. Come; I will lead the way."

Joanna stepped on before, and Cuthbert followed. He had thought the cave a small and shallow place before, but now he discovered that this shallow cavity in the rock was but the antechamber, as it were, to a larger cavern, where twenty men might sit or lie at ease; and the entrance to this larger place was through a pa.s.sage so narrow and low that none who did not know the secret would think it possible to traverse it.

Cuthbert wondered if he were letting himself be taken in a trap as he followed the gipsy through this narrow way; but he trusted Joanna with the confidence of instinct which is seldom deceived, and presently felt that they had emerged into some larger and wider place. In a few moments the gipsy had produced a light, and the proportions of the larger cavern became visible. It was a vaulted place that had been hollowed out of the ruddy sandstone either by some freak of nature or by the device of men, and had plainly been adapted by the wandering gipsy tribes as a place of refuge and resort. There were several rude pieces of furniture about--a few pallet beds, some benches, and a table. On this table was now spread the wherewithal for a modest repast--some cold venison, some wheaten bread, a piece of cheese, and a flagon of wine. Cuthbert, who had fared but scantily all that day, was ready enough to obey the gipsy's hospitable invitation, and seated himself at the board. She helped him liberally to all that was there, but appeared to want nothing herself; and whilst Cuthbert satisfied his hunger she commenced the tale, part of which in its bare outline was already known to him.

"Thou knowest the story of the witch burned on the village common, nigh to Trevlyn Chase, by the order of the knight then ruling in that house? Dost know too that that woman was my grandam, the mother of Miriam and of Esther?"

"I knew that not," answered Cuthbert.

"But so it was," pursued Joanna, her big dark eyes fixed upon the flickering flame of the lamp she had kindled. "I never saw my grandam myself; she had met her doom before I saw the light. Yet I have heard the tale so ofttimes told that methinks I see myself the threatening crowd hooting the old woman to her fiery death, the stern knight and his servants watching that the cruel law was carried out, and the gipsy tribe hanging on the outskirts of the wood, yet not daring to adventure themselves into the midst of the infuriated villagers, watching all, and treasuring up the curses and maledictions poured upon the proud head of Sir Richard as the old woman went to her death."

"A cruel death, in all truth," said Cuthbert. "Yet why hold Sir Richard in fault? He was not the maker of that law; he was but the instrument used for its enforcement, the magistrate bound to see the will of the sovereign performed. Most like he could not help himself, were his heart never so pitiful. I trow the Trevlyns have always done their duty; yet I mis...o...b.. me if by nature they have been sterner or more cruel than other men."

A faint smile flickered round the lips of the gipsy. She went on with her story without heeding this plea.

"They had made shift to see her once before her death--my mother, my father, and Esther with them. Upon those three she had laid a solemn charge--a charge to be handed down to their children, and pa.s.sed throughout all the tribe--a charge of deadly hatred to all that bore the name of Trevlyn--a charge to deal them one day some terrible blow in vengeance for her death, a vengeance that should be felt to the third and fourth generation."

"I have heard somewhat of that," said Cuthbert.

"Ay, the old woman raved out her curses in the hearing of all as she was fastened to the stake and the flames leaped about her. All heard and many treasured up those words, and hence the tradition always in men's mouths that the treasure of Trevlyn was filched by the gipsy folks in fulfilment of that curse. But now another word. My grandam laid another charge upon the tribe and all who claimed kindred with her; and that charge was that all should give loving and watchful care and tender service to the house of Wyvern; that all bearing that name should be the especial care of the gipsies--they and their children after them, whether bearing the old name or not. The Wyverns had been true friends to the gipsy folk, had protected them in many an hour of peril, had spoken them gently and kindly when all men else spoke ill of them, had given them food and shelter and a place to live in; and to my grandam had given a home and sanctuary one bitter winter's night, when, pursued by foes who strove then to get her into their hands and do her to death, she flung herself upon their charity, and received a welcome and a home in her hour of peril and sore need. It was beneath the roof of the Wyverns that Esther first saw the light; and in grat.i.tude for their many acts of charity and kindness my grandam, ere she died, laid instructions on all who owned her sway that the Wyverns and all descended from them should be sacred to the gipsies--watched over and guarded from all ill."

"Ah!" said Cuthbert, drawing a long breath; "and shortly after that a Wyvern wedded with this same Sir Richard."

"Ay, and that but just one short month before his house was to have been burned about his head, and he himself slain had he come forth alive. All the plans were laid, and it was to be done so soon as he should return to the Chase after long absence. Long Robin had planned it all, and he had a head as clever and a will as firm as any man that ever lived. He had thought of all--he had everything in order; and then came the news that the knight had wed with Isabel Wyvern, the tenderest, the sweetest, the gentlest maiden that ever drew breath; and when they knew that, even Long Robin knew that no hand could thenceforward be raised against the knight."

"Long Robin--who is he?" questioned Cuthbert eagerly.

"He is Miriam's husband--my father," answered Joanna, a strange shadow pa.s.sing across her face.

"And does he yet live?"

The gipsy paused and hesitated.

"Ask any other member of the tribe, and they will tell thee that he does; but for me, I do not know, I cannot tell."