was accustomed to. Our road skirted the edge of a great
heathy moor. The silvery light of the moon began to glimmer, and we passed
a gipsy bivouac with fires alight and caldrons hanging over them. It was
the first I had seen. Two or three low tents; a couple of dark, withered
crones, veritable witches; a graceful girl standing behind, gazing after
us; and men in odd-shaped hats, with gaudy waistcoats and bright-coloured
neck-handkerchiefs and gaitered legs, stood lazily in front. They had all
a wild tawdry display of colour; and a group of alders in the rear made a
background of shade for tents, fires, and figures.

I opened a front window of the chariot, and called to the postboys to stop.
The groom from behind came to the window.

'Are not those gipsies?' I enquired.

'Yes, please'm, them's gipsies, sure, Miss,' he answered, glancing with
that odd smile, half contemptuous, half superstitious, with which I have
since often observed the peasants of Derbyshire eyeing those thievish and
uncanny neighbours.

CHAPTER XXXI

_BARTRAM-HAUGH_

In a moment a tall, lithe girl, black-haired, black-eyed, and, as I
thought, inexpressibly handsome, was smiling, with such beautiful rings of
pearly teeth, at the window; and in her peculiar accent, with a suspicion
of something foreign in it, proposing with many courtesies to tell the lady
her fortune.

I had never seen this wild tribe of the human race before--children of
mystery and liberty. Such vagabondism and beauty in the figure before me!
I looked at their hovels and thought of the night, and wondered at their
independence, and felt my inferiority. I could not resist. She held up her
slim oriental hand.

'Yes, I'll hear my fortune,' I said, returning the sibyl's smile
instinctively.

'Give me some money, Mary Quince. No, _not_ that,' I said, rejecting the
thrifty sixpence she tendered, for I had heard that the revelations of
this weird sisterhood were bright in proportion to the kindness of their
clients, and was resolved to approach Bartram with cheerful auguries. 'That
five-shilling piece,' I insisted; and honest Mary reluctantly surrendered
the coin.

So the feline beauty took it, with courtesies and 'thankees,' smiling
still, and hid it away as if she stole it, and looked on my open palm still
smiling; and told me, to my surprise, that there was _somebody_ I liked
very much, and I was almost afraid she would name Captain Oakley; that he
would grow very ri