The New York Dime Library No. 1053 — page 3: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

- ~~) tifens tap re 4 ~~ o: a 2: . -% oo a 7 ‘ = a. . . —.— > Le 4, » © ae - e a ® . - ‘ _ secure haven. _. the two castle-crowned cliffs that guarded the entrance to the ba Capta ——a strains of thusic, she had lingered on, until the | tempest burst in fury, and the bay and sea were lashed into a boiling, seething maelstrom. ‘But too often had she faced the mad elements on sea and land, to be drawn away from the | fascination of that scene within by fear of a tempest, and still she lingered on, her cheeks burning, her eyes riveted, and her bronzed bosom heaving tumultuously with the thought that burst impulsively from her lips: ** And I, too, have the power to make inen m slaves, as now those fair maidens do, and— will!” As though there was a certain recklessness called up by her daring resolve; she turned from the window, and unmindful of the pelting storm, left the sheltered nook, crossed the court and said shortly to the porter of the gate: “¥ would go out.” Ww asked the gate eeper, ‘**To my camp.” ‘But the road is overflooded: hark! do you not hear the sea dashing against the cliff?’ ‘*T came not by the road: I will return as I came, so unbar the gate and detain me not,” she answered curtly. ‘*T remember; you camein your skiff, for I recall how swiftly ou glided over the waters, and, we servants of the lower hall, were all ad- miring your skill and daring, pretty Jule.” ““} care not for compliments, m such as you, Derric: unbar thy gate, for I would return to camp,” she said haughtily. “Thou would’st go to thy grave, did I allow thee to pass, and the morning would break on thy graceful limbs, cast mangled and bleeding upon the beach: return, and see the merry dan- cers, and listen to the lively music, or, if it please thee more, my sweet Angel of the Surf, be seated in my cosey nook, and enjoy a flagon of wine with me, for it is the red and rich juice of the grape of old Spain, thy native land, I have heard. ) “Thy head is turned now, Derric, and thy tongue is witless, so let, me get rid of thy com- pany: unbar the portal. ‘Not I! never can [ aid in thy death, Gipsy Jule,” said the man firmly. are “Then shall I unbar the gate myself,” and she laid her hand upon the heavy cross-beam of iron. ‘No, no, nor will I permit thee to take thy own life.” + ¥. ' “Stand back! or my blade shall seek your heart,” and she drew from her sash a long, nar- row-bladed dagger, and turned upon him with flashing eyes. With an alarmed cry Derric started back, terror in his face, while laughing scornfully, Gipsy Jule raised the bar, with a strength that no one would have believed her capable of, and passing out into the darkness, said with a sneer: “ Farewell, Derric, and if thy prophecy proves true, tell the Lady Lenore that my own fool- hardiness caused my death.” as ‘“ By our Lady’s honor! that girl fears neither man or Satan,” cried Derric with a shudder, as he closed the door quickly, and glanced out of the watch-port to see which way she went. But the night was too dark for him tosee her, as she walked briskly down the rapeed pee to the little creek, where lay her li iff in a Entering it, she raised her tiny sail, and fear- lessly steered out upon the wind-swept waters, and, though certain death seemed to stare her in the face, held on her course seaward between But the stanch Tittle craft soon _— that it was not an o boat, but a lifé-skiff, the same in which the girl gone out to the rescue of the crew of the wrecked ship; and though its small sai] drove it over the waters with fearful velocity, and the spray quickly drenched Jule thr and irongh, it stagger- ed from under the waves, and held on its course th 3 - Presently the daring girl reached the pass be- tween the castles, and the waters swept sea- ward with irresistible force, the tide and winds mee Gand for a moment it seemed as if even the life-boat could not live: but not for an instant did her nerve forsake her, and unflinchin holding on her way, she now felt that the grea est danger had passed: but no, the skiff sudden- ly bounded aside with a rude shock, and ing the gunwale, to save herself; Gipsy Jule felt something touch her hand, and instinctively she seized it, and from even her brave lips came a startled cry, for an iron clutch was upon her arm, anda human face looked into her own, from out of the weird, white spray. “Saveme!” — | | The cry came hoarsely from the lips of the drow man, and forgetting her own danger she let go her tiller, and ay ey him in her arms, and dragged him into the skiff with a tsurprised herself. Ss lay at her feet, while the little skiff hurle about like a chip in a mill-race: but ‘ Ju-e had a heart that arose above danger, she bent to her work with a will and ener- sued her b im its terrible dan- we 4 in Kyd | joyous, upon the other; gaining an o “Which way, pretty Jule, in such a tempest?” ) Pp = en nr ———-______t TL re tleman, back to consciousness— Ah “coverin TION ss oF oe ee rr ew rm ee ae ee eee eee —_— — = adh ——— * - = — sae ag ae she had driven through the pass, with Castle Crag, grim an black, on one side, and Castle Cor, bright — fing she down the coast, and, in spite of the al- most impenetrable darkness, and the wild wa- ters, safely guided the life-skiff into the cove, near the glen where lay the camp of her people. Springing ashore, she fastened her boat se- curely, and then returned for the one she had dragged from the waves. @ was unconscious, apparently dead; but she raised him in her arms and a along the rugged pathway, until she suddenly halted, for a tall form stood before her} ‘* Ah, Santos, it is you? Aid me here with this burden,” she said abruptly. ‘‘Came you by the water this night, Jule?” he asked, making no movement to obey. ‘Yes, but aid me, I say, for see you not I a weight fit only for a man’s strength?’ ‘You are as reckless as you are beautiful, Jule,” was the reproachful reply, with yet no effort to relieve her from her burden. ‘Santos, you are a fool; stand from my path for I would save life, if it yet exists,” she sai in angry tones. zB es in God’s name what have you there, Jule?’ ‘*‘ A human being who needs human sympathy and aid.” ‘*Ha! IT deemed it a bundle of silks and velvets from the Lady Lenore’s wardrobe, as you are getting so fine of late.” ‘Dare you throw insult in my teeth, Santos, to say I would wear the cast-off finery of an- other? Stand from my path, or my knife shall go deeper into your heart than you say my | eyes have ever done.” He did not shrink from her, but said sadly: ‘Why, Jule, what is it that has made you so sava to-night?” **'You stand in my way, Santos, when I bear a weight for no woman’s shoulders, and a life hangs in the balance, for I picked up this man enn Ss the bay.” ‘Give him to me.” | He took the form in his strong arms, and, with a sigh of relief she moved rapidly on, the man following. is ‘‘ Where do you go, Santos?” she asked, quick- ly, as he bore to the left upon reaching the en. ‘* To my cabin.” | . | ‘* No, take him to mine.” ei He hesitated, but she laid her hand upon his arm, and, without a word he obeyed. It was but a minute’s walk further on to the cabin of Gipsy Jule, a snugly-built hut, by no means uncomfortable, and containing two rooms, eps Oo perk oe ae be followed her ee e ca a 2 light of a bed of An oil a“. was soon lighted, and the glare turned full upon the rescued man, and both oipsy Jule and her lover, Santos, gave a start, for they recognized who it was that had been so strangely snatched from a watery grave. He was a man of superb pbysical BN od tions, tall, slender, dressed in a riding-suit, and with a face that was deeply bronzed, stern, and: features strangely perfect: in fact he was one to attract attention in any assemblage, and com- mand respect with admiration. ; ‘Do you know him?” asked Santos, in a low tone. “Ts he dead, is the more im t ques- tion?’ she answered evasively, an added quick- Ts S00 this wound upon his head: it is where my skiff struck him, yet is not dangerous I ‘* Do you know who he is, Jule?” asked again the jealous Santos. * Yes,” she answered, defiantly, ‘I do know him, for he was the gentleman who came to the rescue of your old mother and myself, when a band of peasants were:insulting us On the high- way 3 see, he is Sir Hurtel of Castle Cran” Z mre es, the brother of a nobleman,” sneered ‘* The same b is in the veins of,one that is in the other’s, and, from. all accounfS he is the nobler of the two, but I wish no quarrel with you, Santos, but’ your aid in bringing this gen- e is re- pyre d fixed themselves th ‘of Gi Sule, and then me Santon, ee *“You are better, sir, musical tone, habitual to her when not ‘Yes: Icame near drowning, and my horse ronea woman. . s: sunk under me, and I hailed a bane but it ran_ But whot yada a aod ktiew not, nor why me down: did you save me, sir?’ and with an | she was there; curious eyes ony ee slender, . effort he turned his head toward Santos, who | graceful form upon the castle turrets, anc answered angrily: Mir bis nocturnal rides through the country, ‘““No, and [ am sorry that Jule did.” _ | Sir Hurtel. was often acco by a femi- ‘““Ab! I owe my life then to Gipsy Jule; | nine co on, who rode the same reck- others are indebted to her for the same service; | less way as he did. ou are then Gipsy Jule?’ and he gazed into the ace of the young girl earnestly. | a7 ‘Yes, I am so called, Sir Hurtel,” she an- swered mode ‘You know ow ae then?” e said in a soft, aroused. —_ ‘Yes, for you did me a service once on the highway; but your face shows that you are ering.” He gave a grimace, and answered: ‘*My head feels dizzy, and my left arm is broken, for your boat struck me hard: but otherwise I am all right, I think.” ** Then you shall remain bere and I will care for you, for it was I that burt you.” ‘“‘ It was you that saved my life,” he said with a smile. She made no reply to his remark, though her face flushed, and Pipex ay Bi her lover, she said: ** Santos, Eo ask edictine to come here at once, for“he bas skill in wounds and sick- ness. ‘*T will not go, Jule,” was the determined reply of the young Gipsy. ; ‘** As you pie but remain here and I will go,” and she glided from the cabin, leaving her onsen lover alone with the wounded and suf- ering Sir Hurtel. A moment of silence passed, and then Santos ke: ‘Jule is a fool, and she will love you for what she has done for you to-night.” “Tt would be more grateful in me to love her,” — the Neng reply, but oy, maseemed the young Gipsy, for, wing a e he sprup toward Sir Hurtel, whose eye never quail nor did a muscle quiver, though he well knew his danger, alone, and with a broken arm in the presence of a jealous Gipsy. ‘Dare to set your love upon Jule, and you shall die, as s she, if she raises her eyes to you, | will swear it, by the dead of my race.” ‘Your threats cannot intimidate me, and I alow that you had best keep clear of my path, The calm manner of Sir Hurtel enraged the Gipsy stiJl more, and he step nearer, and raised his knife to strike, while he hissed forth: ‘Your words have séaled your fate; you shall die, and by the hand of Santos the Gipsy.” Before Sir Hurtel could spring to his feet, or Santos could strike bis intended deadly blow, he felt himself seized suddenly and flung aside, while Gipsy Jule, with flashing eyes and drawn knife sprung in between the one she had rescued and her frenzied lover: ‘Coward! would you kill a wounded man!” ‘*T would kill any one that came between me and thy love, Jule—ay, I would drive my blade to eck didst AN 4 ou attempt to protect “Santos, I tell you 1 hate you, and I dare thee to come on and cross thy blade with mine.” {t seemed for a moment that the frenzied youth intended to neces this daring ae ip ou and, weak as he was, Sir Hurtel, who for his own ey seemed strangely indifferent—half arose, as though to place himself between the fearless girl and harm; but inthe doorway sud- denly ee a form that caused Jule to give a cry of joy, and the Gipsy to lower his head, as in shame, It was a man with snow-white hair and beard both falling to his waist, and upon whose head four-score years had fallen; but there was no fee- bleness in his step or manner,and his eyes flashed fire, as he turned them upon Santos, and said in deep, angry tones; “* What! has a forest-child and sea-wanderer forgotten the apes due the stranger in his camp? Ay, and does he draw a blade upon a woman and a wounded man?” “T was mad, king,” said the young man, ‘You were a fool; but go; let not thy king, nor thy people, see thy face for one whole moon. Go! Benedictine, thy king, commands thee?’ He pointed toward the door, and the humbled Gipsy glided away in silence, for he dared not disobey the command of the king of his roving CHAPTER IV. THE MYSTERIOUS GALLFY. Two years have passed away since that sient of storm, when Sir Hurtel recklessly rode horse into the mad waters, and so ery. lost his life; ay, would have found a grave in the Sen not been for the courage of Gipsy e = And in those two years ch have come, for Castle Cor has rejoiced in the birth of an heir, and the earl’s heart is glad with > ba ete Le. Se | thought that there is a son whom to cast _ Slowly, the vt pe sy of Sir Hurtel a 7S = per g pea riches. ° ‘ ‘si i strange rumors have ing the hermit master of Castle Crag, for it been whisper SE , [ poted e from the outer world, and that Old Cormac, on ‘his mon town, for supplies for the hold ‘was often q rding this fair mistress : ee oe oe | nm we FE