qually true that he did many
things which the friends of his family could not and would not have
done. For instance, none would have pitched a tent in the grounds, slept
in it, read in it, and lived in it--when it did not rain. Probably no
one of them would have, at individual expense, sent the wife of the
village policeman to a hospital in London, to be cured--or to die--of
cancer. None would have troubled to insist that a certain stagnant pool
in the village be filled up. Nor would one have suddenly risen in court
and have acted as counsel for a gipsy! At the same time, all were too
well-bred to think that Gaston did this because the gipsy had a daughter
with him, a girl of strong, wild beauty, with a look of superiority over
her position.

He thought of all the circumstances now.

It was very many months ago. The man had been accused of stealing and
assault, but the evidence was unconvincing to Gaston. The feeling in
court was against the gipsy. Fearing a verdict against him, Gaston rose
and cross-examined the witnesses, and so adroitly bewildered both them
and the justices who sat with his grandfather on the case, that, at
last, he secured the man's freedom. The girl was French, and knew
English imperfectly. Gaston had her sworn, and made the most of her
evidence. Then, learning that an assault had been made on the gipsy's
van by some lads who worked at mills in a neighbouring town, he pushed
for their arrest, and himself made up the loss to the gipsy.

It is possible that there was in the mind of the girl what some common
people thought: that the thing was done for her favour; for she viewed
it half-gratefully, half-frowningly, till, on the village green, Gaston
asked her father what he wished to do--push on or remain to act against
the lads.

The gipsy, angry as he was, wished to move on. Gaston lifted his hat to
the girl and bade her good-bye. Then she saw that his motives had been
wholly unselfish--even quixotic, as it appeared to her--silly, she would
have called it, if silliness had not seemed unlikely in him. She
had never met a man like him before. She ran her fingers through her
golden-brown hair nervously, caught at a flying bit of old ribbon at her
waist, and said in French:

"He is honest altogether, sir. He did not steal, and he was not there
when it happened."

"I know that, my girl. That is why I did it."

She looked at him keenly. Her eyes ran up and down his figure, then met
his curiously.