“Whatever happens, I must see her,” said the woman. “Tell her there are many reasons; and tell her too that I am hungry for a sight of her—hungry, hungry.”
“Because you love her so much,” said Sylvia, a soft light in her eyes.
“Yes, my darling, that is it—I love her.”
“And she must love you very much,” said Sylvia.
Jasper uttered a quick sigh.
“It is not Evelyn’s way to love to extremities,” she said slowly. “You must not blame her, my dear; we are all made according to the will of the Almighty6; and Evelyn—oh yes, she is as the apple of the eye to me, but I am nothing of that sort to her. You see, dear, her head is a bit turned with the lofty future that lies before her. In some ways it does not suit her; it would suit you, Miss Sylvia, or it would suit Miss Audrey, but it does not suit little Eve. It is too much for my little Eve; she would do better in a less exalted7 sphere.”
“Well, I do hope and trust she will be glad to see you and glad to hear about you,” said Sylvia. “I will be sure to tell her what a dear old thing you are. But, oh, Jasper, do you think she will notice the smart dress made out of her dress?”
“You can give her this note, dear; I am sending her a word of warning not to draw attention to 230 your dress. And now, don’t you think you had better get into it, and let me see you out by the back premises8?”
“I must go and see father just for a minute first,” said Sylvia.
She ran off, saw her father, as usual busily writing letters, and bent9 down to kiss him.
“Don’t disturb me,” he said in a querulous tone. “I am particularly busy. The post this morning has brought me some gratifying news. A little investment I made a short time ago in great fear and trembling has turned up trumps10. I mean to put a trifle more money—oh, my dear! I only possess a trifle—into the same admirable undertaking11 (gold-mines, my dear), and if all that the prospectus12 says is true I shall be in very truth a rich man. Not yet, Sylvia—don’t you think it—but some day.”
“Oh father! and if you are——”
“Why, you may spend a little more then, dear—a little more; but it is wrong to squander13 gold. Gold is a beautiful and precious thing, my dear; very beautiful, very precious, very hard to get.”
“Yes, father; and I hope you will have a great deal of it, and I hope you will put plenty—plenty of money into the—into the——”
“Investment,” said Mr. Leeson. “The investment that sounds so promising14. Don’t keep me now, love.”
“I am going out for a long walk, father; it is such a bright, sunshiny day. Good-by for the present.” 231
Mr. Leeson did not hear; he again bent over the letter which he was writing. Sylvia ran back to Jasper.
“He seems quite well,” she said, “and very much interested in what the post brought him this morning. I think I can leave him quite safely. You will be sure to see that he has his food.”
“Bless you, child!—yes.”
“And you will on no account betray that you live here?”
“Bless you, child! again—not I.”
“Well then, I will get into my finery. How grand and important I shall feel!”
So Sylvia was dressed in the brown costume and the pretty brown velvet15 hat, and she wore a little sable16 collar and a sable muff; and then she kissed Jasper, and telling her she would remember all the messages, started on her day of pleasure. Jasper saw her out by the back entrance. This entrance had been securely closed before Jasper’s advent17, but between them the woman and the girl had managed to open the rusty18 gate, although Mr. Leeson was unaware19 that it had moved on its hinges for many a long day. It opened now to admit of Sylvia’s exit, and Jasper went slowly back to the house, meditating20 as she did so. Whatever her meditations21 were, they roused her to action. She engaged herself busily in her bedroom and kitchen. She opened her trunk and took out a small bag which contained her money. She had plenty of money, still, but it would not last always. Without Sylvia’s knowing 232 it, she had often spent more than a pound a week on this establishment. It had been absolutely necessary for her to provide herself with warm bedclothes, and to add to the store of coals by purchasing anthracite coal, which is almost smokeless. In one way or another her hoard22 was diminished by twenty pounds; she had therefore only forty more. When this sum was spent she would be penniless.
“Not that I am afraid,” thought Jasper, “for Evelyn will have to give me more money—she must. I could not leave my dear little Sylvia now that I find the dreadful plight23 she is in; and I cannot stay far from my dear Evelyn, for although she does not love me as I love her, still, I should suffer great pain if I could not be, so to speak, within call. I wonder if my plan will succeed. I must have a try.”
Jasper, having fulfilled her small duties, sat for a time gazing straight before her. The hours went on. The little carriage clock which she kept in her bedroom struck eleven, then twelve.
“Time for him to have something,” thought Jasper. “Now, can I possibly manage? Yes, I think so.”
She took a saucepan, which held something mysterious, out into the open air. It was an old, shabby saucepan. She hid it in the shrubbery. She then went back to her room and changed her dress. She was some little time over her toilet, and when she once more emerged into view, the old Jasper, to all appearance, had vanished.
A dark, somewhat handsome woman, in a faded 233 red gipsy cloak, now stood before the looking-glass. Jasper slipped out the back way, pushed aside the rusty gate, said a friendly word to Pilot, who wagged his tail with approbation24, and carrying a basket on her arm, walked slowly down the road. She met one or two people, and accosted25 them in the true Romany style.
“May I tell your fortune, my pretty miss? May I cross your hand with silver and tell you of the fine gentleman who is going to ride by presently? Let me, my dear—let me.”
And when the young girl she addressed ran away giggling26, little suspecting that Jasper was not a real gipsy, Jasper knew that her scheme had succeeded. She even induced a village boy to submit to her fortune-telling, and half-turned his head by telling him of a treasure to be found, and a wife in an upper class who would raise him once for all to a position of luxury. She presently pounded loudly on The Priory gates. Mr. Leeson had an acute ear; he always sat within view of these gates. His one desire was to keep all strangers from the premises; he had trained Pilot for the purpose. Accordingly Jasper’s knocks were not heeded27. Sylvia was always desired to go to the village to get the necessary food; trades-people were not allowed on the premises. His letter occupied him intently; he was busy, too, looking over files of accounts and different prospectuses28; he was engaged over that most fascinating pastime, counting up his riches. But, ah! ah! how poor he was! Oh, what a poverty-stricken man! He sighed 234 and grumbled29 as he thought over these things. Jasper gave another furious knock, and finding that no attention was paid to her imperious summons, she pushed open the gate. Pilot immediately, as his custom was, appeared on guard. He stood in front of Jasper and just for a moment barked at her, but she gave him a mysterious sign, and he wagged his tail gently, went up to her, and let her pat him on the head. The next instant, to Mr. Leeson’s disgust, the gipsy and the dog were walking side by side up to the door. He sprang to his feet, and in a moment was standing30 on the steps.
“Go away, my good woman; go away at once. I cannot have you on the premises. I will set the dog on you if you don’t go away.”
“One minute, kind sir,” whined
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