s over: the
gipsy went to the running brook, washed his face, took a large draught
of water, and then hastened away and was soon out of sight.

Melchior, who had watched the departure of the gipsy, slowly approached
us. I observed him and Nattee, as they met, as I was certain that
something important had taken place. Melchior fixed his eyes upon
Nattee--she looked at him mournfully--folded her arms, and made a slight
bow as if in submission, and in a low voice, quoted from the Scriptures,
"Whither thou goest, I will go--thy people shall be my people, and thy
God my God." He then walked away with her: they sat down apart, and were
in earnest conversation for more than an hour.

"Japhet," said Melchior to me, after he had quitted his wife, "what I am
about to tell you will surprise you. I have trusted you with all I dare
trust any one, but there are some secrets in every man's life which had
better be reserved for himself and her who is bound to him by solemn
ties. We must now part. In a few days this camp will be broken up, and
these people will join some other division of the tribe. For me, you
will see me no more. Ask me not to explain, for I cannot."

"And Nattee," said I.

"Will follow my fortunes, whatever they may be--you will see her no
more."

"For myself I care not, Melchior; the world is before me, and remain
with the gipsies without you I will not; but answer me one
question--what is to become of little Fleta? Is she to remain with the
tribe, to which she does not belong, or does she go with you?"

Melchior hesitated. "I hardly can answer, but what consequence can the
welfare of a soldier's brat be to you?"

"Allowing her to be what you assert, Melchior, I am devotedly attached
to that child, and could not bear that she should remain here. I am sure
that you deceived me in what you stated, for the child remembers, and
has told me, anecdotes of her infancy, which proves that she is of no
mean family, and that she has been stolen from her friends."

"Indeed, is her memory so good?" replied Melchior, firmly closing his
teeth. "To Nattee or to me she has never hinted so much."

"That is very probable; but a stolen child she is, Melchior, and she
must not remain here."

"Must not."

"Yes; must not, Melchior; when you quit the tribe, you will no longer
have any power, nor can you have any interest about her. She shall then
choose--if she will come with me, I _will_ take her, and nothing shall
prevent m